tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37341621349021747222024-03-06T04:57:24.553+05:30The-Zest-in-UsGittihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06602368265889969241noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734162134902174722.post-4899797738919440982016-12-14T00:11:00.000+05:302016-12-14T00:11:33.134+05:30An Epic Love story..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">April, the busiest part of the year. She could not believe she had let her friend set her up on a blind date. 'Nothing serious, she was told. Just go out & have dinner with him. Do it as a favor to me.' She hadn't been out for quite some time now, thanks to being the all-time trouble-magnet that she was. So just some over-time at work was perfect enough for her, at least for the moment. Yet, she said yes. So, there she was picking out an outfit like any other ordinary day at work. After all, she wasn't expecting anything.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The day went by in a jiffy and suddenly, it was 9pm. He had texted her an hour before and she knew she'd better leave or she'll be late. Arriving at the bar, she noticed him, but pretended not to. She was blushing as if it were her first date ever.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What would you like to have? The first question as soon as they settled. She ordered a gin tonic and he, a rum & coke. She was trying to run all the questions in her head. Rehearsing, thinking if she should skip awkward conversations. Re-iterating every sentence in her head as if it was a job interview & not a date. It was maybe the drinks or him, but it took no time for the conversation to become easy, the topics common and the hands were talking in a language of their own.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As much as she wanted to continue the conversation, they had to leave as the bar was closing. It was 1 am and he insisted to drop her. Another hour of chatter in the cab, when it was finally time to get off the car. He got down, helped her out and took her hands in his. "It was a lovely evening, he said, I had a great time." Then he leaned and kissed her. A few seconds of pure passion, pure love, no expectations. No Fairy Tale romance. No dreams of happily ever after. In that moment, it was just that. A simple kiss. He said goodbye when her eyes were still closed. She stood there while he left and began thinking.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Not all love stories are meant to last forever. But that does not mean it wasn't love. It just means that they were not meant to be novels but short stories. That, however, does not make them any less epic, any less love. She came back upstairs and started to jot down her short story..</span></div>
Gittihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06602368265889969241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734162134902174722.post-15402424034104516182016-12-10T00:44:00.000+05:302016-12-10T00:44:00.179+05:30फिर से वही सपना..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">फिर से वही सपना.. फिर से आँख खुली, और खुद को उसी मोड़ पर पाया। चार दिन बीते हो या चार महीने, उस दर्द का एहसास आज भी वही था जो उस दिन बस में बैठ कर आँखों से झलक रहा था। </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">सोच कर फिर से पलंग पर बैठ गयी मैं और खुद से पुछा, क्या कर रही थी मैं अपने साथ। किस तरह से जी रही थी। क्या यही अरमान खुद के लिए संजोये थे? क्या यही मंजिल खुद के लिए चुनी थी? क्या यही रुकना चाहती थी मैं?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">जहाँ एक तरफ अपने आप से हार चुकी थी, वहीँ दूसरी तरफ झुकना नहीं चाहती थी। जहाँ एक तरफ दिल टूट चुका था, वहीँ उसे संभालना भी चाहती थी। जहाँ एक तरफ वो जा चुका था, वहीँ उसके पास भी जाना चाहती थी। क्या करू, शायद इस बार आगे नहीं बढ़ना चाहती थी, शायद इस बार यही मेरी कहानी थी। यही शुरुवात, यही अंतिम किस्सा था मेरी किताब का। </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">पर इस किताब को लिख कौन रहा था? मैं या मेरा खुदा ? इस कहानी के पात्र काल्पनिक नहीं व्यक्तिगत थे। इस कहानी के किस्से लिखे नहीं जिए गए थे। हर एक आंसू सच में बहा था, हर एक हँसी खुल के सुनाई दी थी। हर एक बार हाथ पकड़ने से धड़कन बढ़ी थी, सिर्फ पढ़ने वाले की नहीं, पर जीने वाले की भी। फिर इस कहानी का अंत खुशनुमा होना गवारा क्यों नहीं था? इस में दिल टूटने का दर्द भी तो महसूस हुआ था। </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">पर अब फिर से करवट पलटी, तो ये सोचा। अगले किस्से का तो पता नहीं, पर ये वक़्त बहुत एहम है। टूटे दिल का तो पता नहीं, उसके आगे के पन्ने पर लफ्ज़ बहुत सहेज के लिखने पड़ेंगे मुझे। क्योंकि उनकी छाप मेरे ही जीवन पर पड़ेगी, उनका ज़िक्र मेरे ही ज़हन में होगा। उनके निशान मेरे ही जिस्म पर दिखेंगे। आंसू का तो पता नहीं वो मुस्कराहट कायम रहनी चाहिए। प्यार हासिल हो न हो, वो विश्वास कामिल रहना चाहिए। मुकम्मल हो न हो, इश्क़ का जूनून रहना चाहिए।</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">आँखे बंद की तो खुद पर कुछ गर्व सा हुआ। शायद वहीँ सपना दिल दहला के फिर से नींद खोल दे, पर उस सपने को हँस के फिर से गले लगाने की हिम्मत होनी चाहिए।</span></div>
Gittihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06602368265889969241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734162134902174722.post-26731351703577890622016-08-29T01:00:00.004+05:302016-08-29T01:00:53.402+05:30Don’t let him go..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16pt;">Don’t let
him go., her heart said.. Don’t let him go, the heartbeat echoed. Don’t let him go
said her courage and her tears reverberate the same.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">How often
in life do you stumble across people or things that you don’t want to let go
of? There might be moments; like when you get your 1<sup>st</sup> Barbie. Or
your first result or recitations, such moments are stuck with you in your
heart, etched in your memory forever. You don’t want to pass out of school and
miss your friends. Further ahead in time, you don’t want to let go of the fun
carefree college life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">Similarly
you find people in life you don’t want to let go of. Your parents, your </span><span style="font-size: 21px;">favourite</span><span style="font-size: 16pt;"> cousin. He can be a brother from
another mother or your best friend who knows all your secrets. An arch enemy
who makes your life fun is equally memorable and required. And of course, the
innumerable people you have a crush on.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">You move
on with everything, you get up after losing everyone. Your best friend gets
married to her childhood sweetheart and gets a new life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Your best
friend gets busy in his business and gets busy. Your boyfriend doesn’t want you
to go for further studies and you have to take a tough call on the same.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Life moves
on, you learn to let go, learn to live in absence. Learn to accept.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">However,
there are some people in life you don’t want to let go of. Some people who are
worth every damn effort you need to keep them together. People who deserve
every chance that you are capable of giving. Every single smile or tear spent
for them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">However,
do not mistake this as your weakness. In fact, it’s the most powerful you will
ever be. Because it teaches you resilience, teaches you to leave your ego aside
and be ready to put your needs secondary to someone. It teaches you to be
humble. It teaches you to be strong and gives you the strength to stand up to
what your heart says. And nothing else will give you that strength except for
pure love. Love for your friends, for your life, for your parents. Love for people who make your smile worthwhile, who make you feel valued, who
make their world revolve around yours.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Step
forward, make a move, ask the questions. Don’t sit back because it’s easy,
don’t wait until it passes. Don’t leave it thinking it wasn’t meant to be..<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So, don’t let
him go. Not when you know your love is strong enough. Not when you know he is
worth enough. Not when you know you can stand up for it. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Don’t let him go. Not
without a fight at least..!!</span><span style="font-family: HanziPen TC Regular;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
Gittihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06602368265889969241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734162134902174722.post-62874096233554803082016-07-15T23:46:00.000+05:302016-07-15T23:46:11.146+05:30No Regrets..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Gabriola; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 115%;">It was one of those days,
when I sat in retrospection. I looked back at life and wondered what went right
and what didn't. I asked myself what I would like to change if I get a chance.
Would I want to redo anything in a different manner? If I had powers to revisit
the past like the protagonist of <i>About
Time,</i> would I want to go back again and again or do things repetitively,
just to get a specific outcome?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Gabriola; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 115%;">Strangely enough, I couldn’t
think of anything I would want to change in any manner, in any phase, with
anyone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Gabriola; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 115%;">For every fight I had, I know
it made me define my priorities and shed my ego for the people I love. They in
turn showed me the wonderful things I have to be loved. Every failure gave me
the will to get up and find a new avenue to excel at or improve. Every romance
told me how to love with all my heart while the heartbreaks taught me how to
mend myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Gabriola; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 115%;">Every time I sneaked out of
the house or was caught drunk, I knew how to keep myself sober the next time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Gabriola; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 115%;">Each time I let myself
vulnerable, it said I am human and it’s okay to be open to risks. Every city
taught me how to build a home. Every scar said I dared, every tan line proved I
gave myself a chance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Gabriola; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 115%;">So while every day, each
life has its ups and downs; if it hadn’t been this way, I would not be what I
am today. I have my quirks and my flips. But proudly, I have no regrets..!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Gittihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06602368265889969241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734162134902174722.post-48206588978514308022016-01-30T22:43:00.001+05:302016-01-30T22:43:26.646+05:30Habits..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Habits are hard to let go. These can be small & harmless ones like getting up late or not missing your gym. Or worse, ones like smoking or working late nights.<br />
They become such an integral part of your system, your routine or your existence, that even a single deviation in the path makes you feel strange.<br />
<br />
The presence of somebody in your life, might also be another one of these dangerous habits. You get used to them being a part of your life cycle. Their existence is like a given. You fight with them, scream at them, love them, hate them. Yet you never realize that you might be taking them for granted. Or you might get so used to them, that even the idea of them not being a part of your life doesn't cross your mind<br />
<br />
Habits are very hard to be broken. It gets very difficult to look at the other perspective and gather the courage and willingness to step up & break the monotony, the routine. You might want to get up early, but the insomnia doesn't let you sleep at night. You might want to quit smoking, but your body craves for it, your hand moves into the pocket, you need one to aid your digestive system in the least. You can even bet on breaking the habit of not making fun of your friends, but you let it go just because you have to make fun of the girl he's dating (Love Chandler but can't forget Elizabeth Hornswaggle in FRIENDS)<br />
<br />
Getting out of people is harder, for they form a part of you. From maybe just calling to wake you up to not being able to sleep without spooning them. From a booty call to a long distance relationship. From sleeping while holding your girlfriend's hands, to sleeping on your mother's lap. Each one of these habits is like normalcy, and a single blip in the life cycle graph shakes you to the core.<br />
Not always can you bring the graph back to where it was, not always do you want to. Sometimes, there's actually a need of that variation. To make you realize that it is more than just a habit. Its your anchor, your safe zone. It can be both your normalcy or your complacency. All you have to do is place them in the right buckets.<br />
<br />
Because, some habits die hard. Some habits have to be killed to be sane in this world. But then there are some habits, that always remain..<br />
<br />
<i><b>You are like a habit to me.. If I remove "H" a bit remains, I remove "a" and bit remains, I remove "b", hell, it still remains..</b></i></div>
Gittihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06602368265889969241noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734162134902174722.post-82292576569593412142015-05-13T23:28:00.001+05:302015-05-13T23:28:34.849+05:30The Flower..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As much as I love fiction, I have never been good at fabricating it. I get mesmerized by what people write but my writing is void of any form of imagination whatsoever. Thus, whatever I write seems normal when I re-read it. But then I write from my life. I try to fit in every important piece of my life into my writing, and that's why it remains non fancy.. Just plain, simple, vanilla.<br />
<br />
Last week, I left Ahmedabad in hope of another such normal weekend in Bombay (sue me but it'll always remain Bombay for me). I was to meet my Bhaiya & Bhabhi visiting from the US. I knew they were cool but then what "out-of-line" fun would a person living in a dry state expect from an elder brother & sister-in-law.<br />
<br />
But somehow, it turned out to be the most wonderful weekend I had in the last few months. And thanks to both of them, it turned a new leaf in my life.<br />
<br />
In those few days, they taught me how a person can rise to great heights despite the gravest falls. All you need, is to stand up again. They taught me how I was holding onto life too hard, expecting so much out of everything I do. They taught me to remember to give to the world and the universe will always give back. I used to laugh on the way he tipped at the hotel, but his logic made me think back on my values.<br />
We hail from the land where spirituality is traded for money and their idea of peace is so wonderful and easily achievable that those 3 days, I did not feel the urge to touch my cell-phone even once.<br />
We didn't go out clubbing, we did not visit shrines. The hotel room was solace & nothing else.. Their idea of giving best at work, spending time with family, appreciating each other, living life is so divine that I could not keep myself from blending into their colors.<br />
<br />
He said one thing to me, "<i>Remember the flower did not worry about attracting the bee. It concentrated on itself and just bloomed and the bee was attracted to it. Be the amazing flower that I know you are. Love you. Stay awesome & bloom</i>."<br />
<br />
And I know, wherever I go, this will go with me.. Being the flower.<br />
Me. Plain and simple..</div>
Gittihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06602368265889969241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734162134902174722.post-22395483866083587502014-03-06T17:57:00.000+05:302014-03-06T17:57:06.559+05:30The innocence of his smile..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A Pink printed cap adorning that little devil's head while he tried to dance around the pole in the metro. He was extremely sweet, yet naughty at the same time. The more he tried to sound innocent, his actions seemed equally notorious.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Almost fell down a few times as he kept cracking jokes with his mom. Talking about his play school, fighting over the spelling he would spell aloud to boast the knowledge of his recent lessons.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Spell 7", his mother asked. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"No, 7 bahut lamba hai" was the reply she got.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Acha, 6 bata do" and all she got was a smirk.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was only after I brought the count all the way down to 1, that he started ranting out.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"O-N-E"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">2 was next and he automatically stated "T-W-O" and so began the spell bee until we reached 7 in the right order.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">All was going smoothly until their station arrived. His mother had by now forgotten the count of stations as she was reveling in pride for her little devil. As the doors were about to close, she grabbed him by his sweater and dashed towards the gate, laughing all through, leaving me with this amazing laugh, a beautiful smile.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A reminder of how simple & innocent childhood is. And a need to jot it down..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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Gittihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06602368265889969241noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734162134902174722.post-11399968187926667072014-02-27T23:26:00.001+05:302014-02-27T23:26:13.468+05:30A Scary World out there..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Life goes on.. With its ups and downs.. We rise and we fall. Every topsy-turvy scares us a little.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Fear is something we live with, at every moment of life. From your first shrill cry to your very last breath, every step is associated with fear. Every change begins with the possibility and presence of fear.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Yes I am scared today. Scared of how it went. Scared of my current situation and myself. I am scared I might have lost the spark in myself. Scared that I might have given up. Scared that I may not get up this time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I am also scared of tomorrow. Of how I would not be able to live up to expectations. Scared I might never achieve my goals. Scared that the world might not change. Or worse it will change and I may not be able to cope up.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Fear.. has become more of a companion now, than something to be scared of..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But this fear, also creates will.. This fear creates strength. To get up, to fight again, to not let go..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Fear is what brings out the worst in people.. But it also brings out the best. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It brings out the real you..</span></div>
Gittihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06602368265889969241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734162134902174722.post-34331228426973220002014-01-07T16:23:00.000+05:302014-04-21T00:30:48.442+05:30Love.. At least at the moment..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I may seem to be sort of obsessed with Farhan's poetic verses.. But here was another one and how this one changed my resistance to loving again..<br />
<br />
एक बात है जो होठों तक आयी नहीं , बस आँखों से है झाँकती।<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
तुमसे कभी, मुझसे कभी, कुछ लव्ज़ है वो मांगती। </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
जिनको पहन के होठों तक आजाये वो,</div>
आवाज़ की बाहों में बाहें डाल के इठलाये वो।<br />
लेकिन जो ये एक बात है , एहसास ही एहसास है।<br />
खुश्बू सी है जैसे हवा में तैरती।<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
खुश्बू जो बेआवाज़ है </div>
जिसका पता तुमको भी है, जिसकी खबर मुझको भी है<br />
छुपाये से भी छुपता नहीं, ये जाने कैसा राज़ है...<br />
<br />
Love is a strange place to be in.. You want it and you hate it at the same time. It may take just 3 months to fall or several years before you even realize that you love that person. And sometimes its just too late a realization.<br />
<br />
Love can make you do crazy things. It can make you take that trip that you could not afford. It can make you write poetry and make sense. It can make you cook breakfast and feel happy about it.<br />
It can make you smile from the inside. Feel peaceful. Feel serene, yet be impatient or eager at the same time.<br />
<br />
You understand that when you lay in their arms and think of nothing but them. You feel that when your eyes are drooping, yet you wanna stay up and watch them sleep. You feel that when their eyes are searching only for you. You feel that when you don't wanna let go. When your fingers are entwined and you feel how well they fit in.<br />
<br />
You fall for their crooked smile or that twinkle in their eyes when they look at you. You fall for that hug or the way they send a kiss over a text message. You fall for the way they pull you or the way they seem confused at times..<br />
<br />
And it doesn't matter if you are still carrying your past baggage, everyone has them. You leave them and move beyond to another chance, another hit at happiness. Because you never know whats happening tomorrow. You think you have eternity to find your perfect match, but people are not perfect and you never have the eternity.<br />
<br />
You may be a career person, but you want to come home tired and sleep in their arms. You might hate getting up early until and unless its their kiss you wake up to. You can be opposites or similar.<br />
When its love, nothing matters. Every reason falls apart..<br />
<br />
So this one's for you my dear.. I don't know yet if I am emotionally involved or not. I don't know if I have fallen head over heels for you. I don't even know the technicality of "love" I have for you.<br />
All I know is that love is not supposed to be that complicated. Its just supposed to be love. So I may not be your happily ever after. I may not be destined to grow old with you. I may not have all that and the other things ahead. Still I wanna try us. With disclaimers, with terms n conditions, even if you promise to run as soon as it burns. I wanna try us, because my heart never said no to it. And it might be a step to getting hurt, but that's a risk I am willing to take..<br />
<br />
Because I know I'll have you. And I know that's enough, at least for the moment..</div>
Gittihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06602368265889969241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734162134902174722.post-43815657367953874022013-12-31T15:56:00.000+05:302013-12-31T15:56:29.636+05:302014 - An Optimistic Beginning..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">2013 was a year of upheavals.. Good or Bad, it changed lives in some or the other manner. There were achievements and retirements. Birth of new political parties and loss of near and dear ones.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">2013 has been a year of changes and evolution.. It has been an exciting year nonetheless. </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I am walking down the memory lane remembering what happened in 2013. Remembering the good and bad times.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I am not a supporter of optimism. Pessimism runs through my brain and blood and nerves altogether. I am a extreme pessimist and proud of that. But I have this strange sense of optimism that is running as the year changes its last digit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A ray of hope, of happiness, of better times. Of new beginnings, of new chapters in life. Whispering into my ear, I can hear sounds telling my heart to calm down. To forget the hardships of 2013 and that this year will bring in success and smiles.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So I don't know if I am writing this for the guy I can't sleep without talking to(& m not allowed to fall for) or my ex. I don't know if I am writing it for my best friends, whom I could not give enough time in past few months, or the one who is in US and I am wishing would come back soon.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I don't know if I am writing this for new beginnings at my workplace or for the ones I have left behind.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I don't know whether its for my parents to understand or for my brother to wish him luck and love.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Or maybe I am writing this to reinforce the optimism in myself..</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I am trying to picture how I want my coming year to be. I just know that there is a happiness or there is a thirst to find happiness. </span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">Dilon mein tum apni betabiyan leke chal rahe ho, </span><i style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">Toh zinda ho tum!</i><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">Nazar mein khwaabon ki bijliyan leke chal rahe ho, </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">Toh zinda ho tum!</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">Hawa ke jhonkon ke jaise aazad rehna seekho,</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">Tum ek dariya ke jaise, leharon mein behna seekho,</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">Har ek lamhe se tum milo khole apni baahein.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">Har ek pal ek naya samaa dekhe ye nigaahe.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">Jo apni aankhon mein hairaniyan leke chal rahe ho, </span><i style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">Toh zinda ho tum</i><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">!</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">Dilon mein tum apni betabiyan leke chal rahe ho, </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">Toh zinda ho tum!</span></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I heard this quote travelling in the metro today and asked myself: Does my life have enough things to achieve yet? Do I have enough dreams to work on yet? And the answer was yes..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So all I need is to open my wings and fly. To open my mind and see every other moment as a new opportunity to strike a mark. To keep my eyes wide, To keep my arms open, to look for people who love me and keep them close, not let them go. To be ready for whatever life throws at me. To turn it into the way I want it to be. To love. To live. To Laugh. To finish animosities. To mature and move on. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">For it will make my life peaceful, easier.. It will make 2014, a true new beginning..</span></div>
Gittihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06602368265889969241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734162134902174722.post-15089681000799037452013-12-12T21:59:00.000+05:302013-12-12T21:59:06.920+05:30Change is the only constant in life..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">However <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 15px;">clichéd</span> the statement may sound, it is after all the ultimate truth of life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You grow up, move on. Take Risks which either fail or become successes. Trust people, get betrayed or treated well. Friends fall behind, enemies get tired. And the list goes on..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Still, there are things and people in life that you stick to. Things which become a part of you. People you don't want to let go. Who gradually become a constant. As constant as you or your life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But the process of permanency of the variables is lengthy and painful. It may take patience, fights, pains (emotional and/or physical), time and what not.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Doing yoga every morning, or your sweetheart you decide to marry. Eating habits or sleeping trends. TV shows or playing Sudoku.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Every constant is a result of serious thought and effort. But then what if You're not that confident or strong enough to make that effort or to think it through. What if every time a glitch appears, you run away, you go into hiding to come out after the storm has past..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You realize in the end that you have lost everything or everyone. That the storm took away everyone you loved or cherished and left you again with nothing but loneliness.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Eventually the constants in your life are: Emptiness, the chaos in your heart, the habit of "not thinking" and of course.. Change..</span></div>
Gittihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06602368265889969241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734162134902174722.post-23695322307971850862013-07-03T15:15:00.000+05:302013-07-03T15:15:43.204+05:30Afraid of the Dark..<span style="font-family: inherit;">6 yrs ago I got my new room. I decorated it as a kid.. Rainbow on one wall, purple color on the other. Glow-in-the-dark fairies on one wall and stars on the ceiling.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Wind-chimes, Photo-frames, Soft-toys and what not..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I used to love sleeping under my starry sky, with my teddy bear; thinking, contemplating, laughing, crying, smiling, frowning and sometimes even trying to count the stars in my sky.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I used to love when they used to glow, because they were my silver lining and the cloud too.. The fairies were my angels, who listened to my whines when I cried over something silly, or witnesses to my solo mischief.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I saw myself better in the darkness than in artificial or natural light..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I used to switch off my lights and venture into my dark room every night, knowing it was not dark all the way. Knowing that my stars and my angels are there with me..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But as this "half a decade" passed, I have grown Afraid of the dark..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Afraid to even look at my stars or talk to my angels. Afraid that I may get alone, afraid to go into my thinking mode, afraid to contemplate.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I go to bed when my eyes cannot stay open anymore, when I'm almost dead on my feet. So that I do not have to think of that incident that made me sad, or to keep myself from thinking aloud with my fairies, because they might tell me what a horrible person I have become.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have moved away from the dark, to stay away from knowing myself, from knowing what I really want, because the society won't accept it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Last night when the electricity was cut off, I saw it flicker off. My eyes witnessed my room going from full of light to the stars shining bright into my eyes..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">As if they were calling me for another rendezvous. But as usual, I was afraid of them, afraid that they might compel me to come out with my deepest desires and I would not be able to face myself later..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I lit my candles, trying to push my stars away from my sky. Trying to stay Afraid of the dark..</span>Gittihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06602368265889969241noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734162134902174722.post-49640632496738348372013-06-14T00:02:00.001+05:302013-06-14T00:02:39.883+05:30A Ride of my LifeI wrote this one very long ago, but forgot to publish it. So, here it is...<br />
<br />
My last morning of the brief stay at my alumni meet, I went on a bike ride. A promise that was long overdue. A promise made by one of my bestest (although that word doesn't exist) buddies. A friend I can believe with my eyes closed. A friend I can trust my life with. We might not discuss our deepest secrets or our personal details. But he's a friend I can sit and sing my heart out with. Someone I fight with equally as much as I laugh with. And we laugh even when we madly dance to "Our Song" - I'm sexy and I know it.<br />
<br />
The drive was heavenly. It took me out of the world for those 10 minutes. While I was sitting behind him with my head rested on his shoulder, I wanted to forget everything else and just enjoy it. Yet I was thinking a lot. I was there in the moment, yet many a things crept in my mind. It took me to a world where I could talk to myself. Where I could drown in my thoughts and he would not disturb, yet pull me back to reality.<br />
<br />
I can't thank him enough for that beautiful ride, which opened the deep secrets from inside my own heart. I can't thank him enough for being there, without even realizing it..<br />
What I regret is not being able to record or capture that moment or not knowing when I will get that chance again.<br />
<br />
To find solutions, quiet and peace. To find myself..<br />
<br />
But then, some moments are meant to be etched in your mind. And this was definitely one of them...<br />
<br />
<br />Gittihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06602368265889969241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734162134902174722.post-63890766526604585272011-10-08T20:55:00.000+05:302011-10-08T20:55:44.257+05:30My Cinderella Story...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"></span></div><div style="font-size: 27px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><span style="font-family: 'French Script MT'; font-size: 20pt;">We Fall in love, more often than not, more than once in a lifetime.. Or atleast once.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"> </span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><span style="font-family: 'French Script MT'; font-size: 20pt;">Especially we girls. We keep looking for LOVE throughout, on every nook and corner. And why shouldn't we?</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><span style="font-family: 'French Script MT'; font-size: 20pt;">Cinderella, Snow White, Rapunzel, Alladin; all these stories--oops, fairy Tales-- have trained us to be prepared. Where we saw that the Prince Charming - tall, dark and handsome, would come one day fighting all odds to sweep us off our feet.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><span style="font-family: 'French Script MT'; font-size: 20pt;"> As we grow, we learn to adjust with the reality. Although there is just a slight change. Reality,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>per se</i>, says that the school's most handsome guy, falls only and only for the prettiest gal. So, in other words, the Football team captain is reserved for the Cheer-Leading captain. Or the Prom Queen has Mr. Fresher. And even if Mr. Fresher is a little down to earth and prefers a simpler intellectual chick, Bollywood and Hollywood make sure that the chick is sexy enough for THE soon-to-be makeover.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><span style="font-family: 'French Script MT'; font-size: 20pt;">So that leaves me or girls like me. who may not be the prettiest or most sexy or highly intellectual ones around. We are average gals left for backstage.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><span style="font-family: 'French Script MT'; font-size: 20pt;">So even though I like a guy for his broken tooth, he wont like me because of my fat legs.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><span style="font-family: 'French Script MT'; font-size: 20pt;">Or if I like a tall & dark one (forgetting that he is not handsome or even close), he wont like me because I am not his type. Strange enough though, as I go and loose around 11kgs, bingo I am now his girl.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><span style="font-family: 'French Script MT'; font-size: 20pt;">But am I really that? I looked and felt good shedding those extra kilos, but was he really worth it?</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><span style="font-family: 'French Script MT'; font-size: 20pt;">So I Wonder what my story will be like?</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><span style="font-family: 'French Script MT'; font-size: 20pt;"> I don't want a tall & handsome guy on a white horse. I just want a guy who is not ashamed to stand with me.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><span style="font-family: 'French Script MT'; font-size: 20pt;"> I don't want him to wait for me to shed weight to accept me. I want him to accept me right away. Maybe I would loose later on for him.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><span style="font-family: 'French Script MT'; font-size: 20pt;"> I don't want a Cinderella Story with non-existing magical fairies. I don't want to be Rapunzel with magical hair. I don't want to be Snow White who eats a poisonous apple yet doesn't die.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><span style="font-family: 'French Script MT'; font-size: 20pt;">I have had my share of MADE UP fairy tales in school plays. I have felt the emotion of being Snow White. The silk gowns and the prince's kiss is indeed sweet nectar.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><span style="font-family: 'French Script MT'; font-size: 20pt;">But what is sweeter is when my boyfriend kisses me and tells me how much he loves me. What I adore more is when one moment he encourages me to exercise to be in shape and the next second he gets me a chocolate pastry. What I want more is to build our own castle together. Where we can go into seclusion from the ruthless reality and stay quiet in each other's arms.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><u1:p></u1:p><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><span style="font-family: 'French Script MT'; font-size: 20pt;">That would be My Cinderella story...</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #c27ba0; font-family: 'French Script MT';"><br />
</span></div></div>Gittihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06602368265889969241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734162134902174722.post-1976351642813536692011-10-01T03:47:00.000+05:302011-10-01T03:47:21.486+05:30I Remember...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I am tired, but I can't sleep. Its like my eyes want to shut down, but my heart is telling a different story altogether.<br />
And suddenly I remember, What I used to do when I faced situations like these at home. When I used to text my neighborhood friends, and I knew there was a guarantee of some sort that they would reply.<br />
<br />
In other situations, I remember, whenever I wanted to meet my guy friends, they would cover up for me. And trust me, they were so superbly good at it by the end that even if I didn't inform them, they knew how to make things up.<br />
<br />
Both live right behind my home, and I remember how our balcony chats were famous throughout the street.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKLj_b5M94dQcrVVqN8QjvWSqIUOaaMeZIlD8O0udTMGtEiPwYeBNVe9yuobfUSCvU9esjrvuv9SQrOZZsn2W3IhyBEjYXzpHQGqHZizhsS-TzWxVpPQn27rJsqmsKO9ddU4nR7MAX8BWF/s1600/cartoon_dancers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKLj_b5M94dQcrVVqN8QjvWSqIUOaaMeZIlD8O0udTMGtEiPwYeBNVe9yuobfUSCvU9esjrvuv9SQrOZZsn2W3IhyBEjYXzpHQGqHZizhsS-TzWxVpPQn27rJsqmsKO9ddU4nR7MAX8BWF/s320/cartoon_dancers.jpg" width="318" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Our secret disc outings or the terrace New Year Parties, everything was simply awesome.<br />
<br />
I remember how every time I stepped out of my place, my dress had to be approved by them.<br />
<br />
I remember how in the Gym we used to corner each other one by one, teasing on some smart guy in the gym, trying our best to make each other blush right out.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLdFBE2LkF9QwTb7DM_VvxdepMpOMDCnFxTBEq54zV4qAca9yzSq-kCri2anP_OtFBcy8VD1h8OKvWQR7IMSJMyVdaY_FlYgpiF12ixfWmHLxtiir3GCWODunQB0ndS1y2HzfYf6r6F4rd/s1600/aerobics.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLdFBE2LkF9QwTb7DM_VvxdepMpOMDCnFxTBEq54zV4qAca9yzSq-kCri2anP_OtFBcy8VD1h8OKvWQR7IMSJMyVdaY_FlYgpiF12ixfWmHLxtiir3GCWODunQB0ndS1y2HzfYf6r6F4rd/s320/aerobics.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I remember how after aerobics, we used to sweat out and also throw some abuses towards our dear Trainer.<br />
<br />
I remember how they reacted to my first kiss (Believe me, I still remember them gawking at me, ready to pounce upon and kill me)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_jMXoTD9iGlh4NgIMI7Rpe966okrY-eUhgjHQdHRMjR88WktatPfORaFy1gCy0BMbj1kla96DfmN7Dy54OWauUmn-EYOuZU4qRM_bXFGRtQlDXN-5eBDSVku8PtEQE9vy8ZXJTslEXvTT/s1600/Cartoon_People_Kissing_110210-131804-692042.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_jMXoTD9iGlh4NgIMI7Rpe966okrY-eUhgjHQdHRMjR88WktatPfORaFy1gCy0BMbj1kla96DfmN7Dy54OWauUmn-EYOuZU4qRM_bXFGRtQlDXN-5eBDSVku8PtEQE9vy8ZXJTslEXvTT/s200/Cartoon_People_Kissing_110210-131804-692042.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I also remember their killing looks when I went for movies with them and instead of watching the movie, talked to other people using their bloody cellphones.<br />
<br />
I remember how Badminton became the foundation of our friendship. I remember how we made all these plans which never materialized.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6e6RjoGph0KP3Y91aXYC9hFZKtHUty0maiTLJoPHR2YtStpApqMrOJZlhO86i4sXtloDB6XE5KUov5cJAxjktgqhzm3VkCjMKst7tI2M2EsMB7-BQFhuOsWADfXVIU1Xmu4hVCB4P7IMs/s1600/badminton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6e6RjoGph0KP3Y91aXYC9hFZKtHUty0maiTLJoPHR2YtStpApqMrOJZlhO86i4sXtloDB6XE5KUov5cJAxjktgqhzm3VkCjMKst7tI2M2EsMB7-BQFhuOsWADfXVIU1Xmu4hVCB4P7IMs/s200/badminton.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
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I remember everything I can, And will remember you every moment of my life.<br />
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Thank you so much for being there for me...<br />
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P.S. I know you both will be getting married soon. Please can we have a nice and sexy Bachelorette Party????<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhgLlxy_iEZlD4iRkU-Zh5uE9ghqyjAlGGW6uH-bukeMK-UqAXFz_ikOLKLKVU1deG4_9W_13y3ad9JRPMtx5cNk-7JU54-FUju6pQQqDPW53Dl_2zfVsW5m23SzD43Fj93hv7t7kjdVNf/s1600/bachelorette_party_invitation_card-p137749347556783515zv8j1_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhgLlxy_iEZlD4iRkU-Zh5uE9ghqyjAlGGW6uH-bukeMK-UqAXFz_ikOLKLKVU1deG4_9W_13y3ad9JRPMtx5cNk-7JU54-FUju6pQQqDPW53Dl_2zfVsW5m23SzD43Fj93hv7t7kjdVNf/s320/bachelorette_party_invitation_card-p137749347556783515zv8j1_400.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div>Gittihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06602368265889969241noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734162134902174722.post-62426537352114250012011-07-27T23:52:00.000+05:302011-07-27T23:52:32.621+05:30Water Water Everywhere... Not a Drop to Drink...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">This statement comes back to me whenever I see any clothes that wont fit me. Whenever I see a Slim girl wearing an awesome dress that I can only dream of wearing in a Plus Size. Whenever I see a girl with an awesome pair of legs that look more awesome in the skirt she is wearing.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvVjeCecWKOCI_6aUf0yXplk-G67AGb3peFUOArMZBpl94_Oc_cy1h1gAwE1vR_H_NMl5642xfyMskGg2UJ3VgOzgwV9drewFpdwLqVGLXQtyK5ej1Yovw17Nx-oriLOTGiuPD8KamN-2w/s1600/skirts.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvVjeCecWKOCI_6aUf0yXplk-G67AGb3peFUOArMZBpl94_Oc_cy1h1gAwE1vR_H_NMl5642xfyMskGg2UJ3VgOzgwV9drewFpdwLqVGLXQtyK5ej1Yovw17Nx-oriLOTGiuPD8KamN-2w/s200/skirts.gif" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I may say: Iam what I am.<br />
I may say: Yes, I am Fat & I accept that.<br />
Or the most cliche'd : I Love myself, Whatever I am<br />
<br />
But then, at the end of the day, I am a GIRL...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHqyyAHI2LuN2qls4i-ZjPTeV8glQ03X-Skjt83nA-CM_zDgVbtF0mah7PCuhjFfe-zqFv32Msxg_NQcU1Hnw0rsxwVL08pNK-ex0h6RYFQJhZDXywUojd3FkACJeut8ioLAxSduc0mUJ-/s1600/girl_thinking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHqyyAHI2LuN2qls4i-ZjPTeV8glQ03X-Skjt83nA-CM_zDgVbtF0mah7PCuhjFfe-zqFv32Msxg_NQcU1Hnw0rsxwVL08pNK-ex0h6RYFQJhZDXywUojd3FkACJeut8ioLAxSduc0mUJ-/s200/girl_thinking.jpg" width="126" /></a></div><br />
A Lady at the end, who still has aspirations and desires. One of which is being ADMIRED...<br />
<br />
Some of us (girls) say: I want a Man who appreciates my brains instead of my body.<br />
But-- don't praise her looks one day & her self-confidence takes a hit-- BOOOOMMM...!!!!! <and even may be your face><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">So, which of my aspirations should I follow??</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>My Career OR</li>
<li>My Personal Goals</li>
</ul><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiM1Pr11ebYvoJUhUV0F-Vsm6UCkBmAQy8fMGcagC5RyOfhrsBwayIsiww1-AVy7TqJot6gqJzam5j2U7s0kdHPZjqxWN4G6QJZEUCpol8BVKFMIIF2j0UWpQWHYBbNvbSpOIUDnex1Ze9/s1600/Girl_thinking_ct_sm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiM1Pr11ebYvoJUhUV0F-Vsm6UCkBmAQy8fMGcagC5RyOfhrsBwayIsiww1-AVy7TqJot6gqJzam5j2U7s0kdHPZjqxWN4G6QJZEUCpol8BVKFMIIF2j0UWpQWHYBbNvbSpOIUDnex1Ze9/s200/Girl_thinking_ct_sm.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<div>Following one of them, hits the balance in other. Is specialization in one of them necessary? Can't We balance both & be what we like to be?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Aren't we promoting either extremes?</div><div>Why the initial assumption:: A girl will either be sexy or smart. Both in a package is not possible.</div><div><br />
</div><div><b>Its time we girls break the Status-Quo and prove the null hypothesis wrong. </b></div><div><b>Its time for the new generation to </b></div><div><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">EVOLVE!!</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></b></div></div>Gittihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06602368265889969241noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734162134902174722.post-89586242873738061892011-07-24T23:23:00.000+05:302011-07-25T00:44:45.189+05:30Words cannot Describe it in entirety..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What is a Girl's Deepest Desire??</span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A loving Boyfriend or Husband?</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A Dream Wedding</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Higher Education or Successful Career?</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Shopping??</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A Castle with servants running around her?</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Or being treated as a Princess??</span></li>
</ul><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Maybe each one of them is important.. Maybe none.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But there is something that is far more valuable and desirable. Something that has no description, no bounds, no words to explain. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Something that is as much special as it is a part of our existence.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sisterhood: a relationship that can not just make Cindrella smile as well as bring her to tears at the same time.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2DQ6zlDWqcJEipb-hTBYgbriBhbHTNztm1virrA6Krij-TAmRyGt_b6Ck-GKOB-2I5517EJ3RoWdG_9Gluw55ZGGC5XY3NuljobxnZN3IFplIle-45GseCP6wl44R8QFiowVV5-4SNr2N/s1600/1sta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2DQ6zlDWqcJEipb-hTBYgbriBhbHTNztm1virrA6Krij-TAmRyGt_b6Ck-GKOB-2I5517EJ3RoWdG_9Gluw55ZGGC5XY3NuljobxnZN3IFplIle-45GseCP6wl44R8QFiowVV5-4SNr2N/s320/1sta.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Every girl wants a group of GAL friends she can spend her time with. Someone in whose presence she can not only bare her heart and her soul, but also her body <while we try one dress after another to decide what to wear for the night or what to buy></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Someone who gives us a shoulder to cry & also reprimands us on our foolishness, yet stands by our side day & night</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Someone who not only shares our joys, sorrows, and also manages with us work and shopping.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Someone who gives us ready tips on guys, relationship issues and SEX</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Someone who sets us up on a blind date & also kicks our butt when we start grieving on broken hearts.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhYQfuKYSE552NTj1lFBZKXkuxtJhoknxwiHW49d-Lv2m2BzQiSzj-i1AmsEBhJJF_6XrQCpI8QLjsQEpQd0SMQNsu_BDix3x7fG_3fFeay3y9DIzBL3XD4tAi9VsOlkwqcFb2gH_VGEKo/s1600/1stb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhYQfuKYSE552NTj1lFBZKXkuxtJhoknxwiHW49d-Lv2m2BzQiSzj-i1AmsEBhJJF_6XrQCpI8QLjsQEpQd0SMQNsu_BDix3x7fG_3fFeay3y9DIzBL3XD4tAi9VsOlkwqcFb2gH_VGEKo/s400/1stb.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Someone who not only enjoys a cuppa latte with you, but also vodka shots, cocktails and pints of beer while all of us get high together... and still manage to arrange lemons in the end.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkYyBO43FKYheMA73NglXp38opy98gGIrNUl7rdeE0wpnTJT51wOLWxBOO8ynwdMDWZNHwI1poKat65LtiUxh4DRq3M8GCApAR_J-ezjwxXZ_gAoXexaaR0m8i4g8cxiVezGajO8uDxCuW/s1600/SleepoversKlass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkYyBO43FKYheMA73NglXp38opy98gGIrNUl7rdeE0wpnTJT51wOLWxBOO8ynwdMDWZNHwI1poKat65LtiUxh4DRq3M8GCApAR_J-ezjwxXZ_gAoXexaaR0m8i4g8cxiVezGajO8uDxCuW/s320/SleepoversKlass.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Someone with whom we can sit in candles & romantic music during typical girly night-overs & drink, abuse, eat and talk about anything & everything under the sun. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Sitting in typical girly nighties, not worrying about the bared legs or the exposed cleavage or wearing pyjamas.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sex, Food, guys, relationships, family; past, present or future. Even the Ugly Naked Guy down the other building <like Rachel, Monica and Phoebe in Friends></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Or sitting in a salon for our pedicures or spas together reading Femina or Cosmo & whimpering about all the dresses we could not wear at the pub that night.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Or maybe a long Drive, drenched in the rain, without worrying about the car interiors.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfujdNS-bLqGse3gvwHyIwxIK1aJYyzPEB7fVh52artrhHFoUBScQis15coTrwJHmag-TPa5LU-miayHB7M8mEKlE-UwBv6gAq4CMUkOhQQg8hJvsCkHQxksiwWyOLvguXlkLx5eMgU27L/s1600/1st.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfujdNS-bLqGse3gvwHyIwxIK1aJYyzPEB7fVh52artrhHFoUBScQis15coTrwJHmag-TPa5LU-miayHB7M8mEKlE-UwBv6gAq4CMUkOhQQg8hJvsCkHQxksiwWyOLvguXlkLx5eMgU27L/s320/1st.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Cooking Pasta for each other or Baking Cakes. Making lemonade or Martini.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sharing books, novels, sharing clothes, accessories, bags, insights about new lingerie or the new mall in town...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiISlVz81dYOGRScx-92K3ALXxD5XIFPx98BBPot9j91EuNrx_yaU5fECvTAV3ED0jS7jCV7yoijoRX9SBKQYbT-pV1jIFMngfgH3VEv50cFTjLSZi5iDxUGqMvPjNmRq3Zf7GOxS2OGVBD/s1600/ispi064153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5eiaXbUWjBnbO8EPGwg4JQQ4qGQVAL9mSF8QSwyOHhiY49IlD2MAYsUcrYzjfO3ZPT2ar-j7Ig5FKkqgaN6TuCFqItFbnaLIp0lzX_1JRYK0zzgNQUS6gfhtsX4POZfAX4wr1wDYeEtAh/s1600/1stc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5eiaXbUWjBnbO8EPGwg4JQQ4qGQVAL9mSF8QSwyOHhiY49IlD2MAYsUcrYzjfO3ZPT2ar-j7Ig5FKkqgaN6TuCFqItFbnaLIp0lzX_1JRYK0zzgNQUS6gfhtsX4POZfAX4wr1wDYeEtAh/s320/1stc.jpg" width="225" /></a><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiISlVz81dYOGRScx-92K3ALXxD5XIFPx98BBPot9j91EuNrx_yaU5fECvTAV3ED0jS7jCV7yoijoRX9SBKQYbT-pV1jIFMngfgH3VEv50cFTjLSZi5iDxUGqMvPjNmRq3Zf7GOxS2OGVBD/s320/ispi064153.jpg" width="320" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> <b> </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><br />
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</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Most importantly, sharing life.. Sharing yourself...</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><br />
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</div></div>Gittihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06602368265889969241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734162134902174722.post-25206505217321555242011-07-23T11:44:00.000+05:302011-07-23T11:44:46.634+05:30A Beginning...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My first blog comes from some management subject in a Tiered Classroom of my PGDM course. My Profy talks rapidly about something called "Scope Creep" which goes OHT (Over Head Transmission) with my state being more than sleepy. However when he related it to New Year Resolutions, I could understand and thought about which ones of mine I could not even start.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Writing a blog- a resolution that has been recurring since half a decade, with the oldest being exercising, but could not be fulfilled.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx-FBOWb1vzpie7QId-gbF3itiZXUtIOf7nyug1KFEw7_MK8cXw4cKHNYA3ZfVp7Vfqfzcfo9czlOONtK4JQTQWRM1tkFfyfdunFuKj7AXxF2OgDaMkavi2G6gfM0nwKa-3r6h4UZ9JrK4/s1600/new_years_resolutions.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx-FBOWb1vzpie7QId-gbF3itiZXUtIOf7nyug1KFEw7_MK8cXw4cKHNYA3ZfVp7Vfqfzcfo9czlOONtK4JQTQWRM1tkFfyfdunFuKj7AXxF2OgDaMkavi2G6gfM0nwKa-3r6h4UZ9JrK4/s1600/new_years_resolutions.gif" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But now I am clueless about what to write. How actually to go about it? Its not New Year's Eve, Its not Valentine, neither Diwali nor a stock index fluctuation.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">However, it seems like a New Year for me. A new beginning where I commit to myself to write regularly, to be update and maybe someday start that exercise too.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjndfh3Xq9w__N7ZxQnUWf9F66giAYWGWABMW8tLXrEW_8-asRwS5b_qWrn6K-DaB9XQm0_gccWxgmxogxIhiAYOHwws2DYPMnHDi2JGfHQ4_V1BekDIUQr2xjXq85QO3qFmGmyKYoSaosB/s1600/strt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjndfh3Xq9w__N7ZxQnUWf9F66giAYWGWABMW8tLXrEW_8-asRwS5b_qWrn6K-DaB9XQm0_gccWxgmxogxIhiAYOHwws2DYPMnHDi2JGfHQ4_V1BekDIUQr2xjXq85QO3qFmGmyKYoSaosB/s320/strt.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Of course, who doesn't like being "Beauty with Brains."</span><br />
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