tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87625566748829327322024-03-20T20:38:23.286+05:3099.9% TRANSPARENTThis blog sings my mood, speaks my feelings, clarifies my confusions and liberates me. HAVE A HAPPY STAY HERE :)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-73072101976325179242014-10-28T23:26:00.000+05:302014-11-12T23:01:50.314+05:30HOMOSEXUALITY with Paati - A STRAIGHT talk.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>"Ahilaaa? Ahilaaa! Ahilaaa???!!! Indha kodumaiya paaren!" ( watch this insanity!)</i><br />
With a 'tch' I put Charley Sheen (of Two and a Half men) on mute and walked into my Paati's (grandmother's) room and found her sitting at the edge of the bed with her legs bent at her knees, almost touching the floor. Her eyes were protruded and her eyebrows raised making a few folds on her forehead while her mouth was unconsciously open. The last time I saw her this disturbed was when I had very cheerfully asked her when she would die. In my defense I was only 8.<br />
With a perfectly erect spine, she was watching Aamir Khan's 'Satyameva Jatate' on Vijay TV(a Tamizh channel that sincerely dubs all the programs of Star Plus). Aamir Khan appeared to be speaking in Tamizh. It killed me. I couldn't stand there for another second. Just when I decided to do an about turn, I heard a woman talking about how she had to divorce her husband because she realised that she was a lesbian. <b>Awkward #1</b>. I pulled the very common faking a phone call act and got out of her room. I got back to watching Charley and realising that he makes me so gay.<br />
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After a good 30 minutes, paati came into the living room and sat next to me. <b>Awkward #2.</b><br />
<i>"But how is it possible?"</i>, she asked meeting me in the eye. <b>Awkward #3</b>. <i>"Paati this is not new. Even during your generation it existed. Fortunately or unfortunately, today's media has too many people employed that nothing escapes their coverage. So do not let this disturb you. Okay?"</i>, I replied at the rate of one sentence per second trying to put an end to the conversation. Silence prevailed. I was shuddering beneath my uber cool expression about the whole situation, imagining the next obvious question she would bombard me with. I did not know what to do. I was laughing at serious conversations happening between Charlie and his new girlfriend. I found my fingers and toes crossed in hope. <i>"Do not take me wrong, but how do they satisfy each other?"</i>, she asked with a smirk. <b>Awkward #4 to the power 'n'</b>. This was worse that the time when Charlie found that the woman he was about to sleep with was his step-sister. I let out an embarrassing chuckle and switched off the TV. She wasn't giving up.<br />
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<i>"Paati life is more than just about getting physical. We are all in search of a true companion who would keep us happy and share our burden. Who we can be best friends with. Who understands you and accepts you for who you are. Who would let you be. Its the soul that matters paati. Not the gender"</i>, I spoke emotionally in a soft voice. <i>"Do not bullshit me. People make babies. Homosexuals cannot make babies. Tell me how will they make babies"</i>, she ordered me in a serious voice. Damn it! By then I had lost count of the awkward moments. <i>"May be they do not want babies okay?! Maybe they just want something pure! They just need each other's presence in each other's life!"</i>, I almost screamed in embarrassment. <i>"So all they do is hug and kiss. Pfft"</i>, she said in a rhetoric tone. I nodded my head side to side in sheer hopelessness. <i>"Do you have anything more important to ask or can I resume watching TV now?"</i>, I asked in a sarcastic tone. <i>"What is wrong with them anyway? They seem to look perfectly normal."</i>, she continued. <i>"THEY ARE NORMAL PEOPLE PAATI!"</i> I screamed. <i>"They have perfect features! Like you and me! 10 fingers! 10 toes! Everything in place! In the right place!". "Oh! So they are not transgenders?"</i>, she asked with an unpleasant expression. I lost it. I did the facepalm act. <i>"Explain patiently. I am only wanting to try and understand your generation."</i>, she said in a very sympathetic tone.<br />
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<i>"Forget it paati. You won't understand.". "Try me!"</i>, she insisted. I gave in.<br />
<i>"Homosexuals are different from transgenders. A person who looks like me or you can be a homosexual. Its the hormones. Its about how you feel inside. Their feelings do not go with their gender. They feel trapped in an opposite sex's body. How would you feel if you had the body of a man? Your body doesn't make who you are. There are 2 types of homosexuals; one in which one might feel feminine but has a man's body and vice versa. The other is a situation where you have a man's body and also feel manly but you are attracted to the same sex. It is very much normal. Just because you and I are attracted to opposite sex doesn't make them abnormal. There is nothing weird about it. The temple of Khajuraho is a testimony to this. We need to stop getting into the denial mode and make it easy for everyone to lead a peaceful life on earth. We need to empathise with them instead of treating them like an outcast. Always put yourself in their shoes. You will understand."</i><br />
She gave me a blank look and said, <i>"You are right. I won't understand. Its time for the re-telecast of Mahabharat series. Leave me alone"</i>.<br />
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It definitely wasn't worth sacrificing Two and a Half Men. I shouldn't have given in.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-85856632454305199942013-01-11T00:00:00.000+05:302013-08-08T14:49:26.292+05:30You Never Know <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Her eyes were fixed on the scan reports for a good 5 mins. I could make out that she had deciphered what it was in a minute but she was taking time to frame the sentences right in order to save me from a heart attack. She finally looked at me, from above her square spectacles that was almost about to slip off her waxy perfectly sculpted nose and heavily sighed.<br />
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<span style="color: #990000;">"Your daughter has been smoking."</span> <br />
<a name='more'></a>She immediately broke the eye contact and continued,<span style="color: #990000;">" Tch. I really dont know what to say about these kids of today's times. Just cannot understand what they want of life".</span> Unconsciously removing her glasses, she appealed, <span style="color: #990000;">"Dear. Please dont get mad at her. Please dont. I am a mother and I know what you are going through right now trust me. Yet I advise you with some hope that you will be easy on her. Parental pressure is not what she needs right now. Its YOU who she needs."</span></div>
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I involuntarily gave out a chuckle. That's the last thing any independent woman of her age would want. A parent by her side. Of course I don't believe what she said. I mean, I cant. My daughter and cigarettes! I thought she would be smart enough to stay away from them after witnessing what I and my husband go through every day for this stealthy habit of his. I asserted the doctor with a smile and silently collected the reports from the perfectly transparent glass I have seen in a really long time, apart from the one at my home that is.</div>
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I walked back home. Ideally I should have taken a bus or an auto for the 4 km stretch. But I needed time. Aaah! It was one of those moments where I wished I could freeze time. The other time I felt this was when I sang very mellifluously besides my grand father's deathbed. I needed time to script what I should be talking to her after reaching home. So how was I going to go about it? Should I make her feel guilty by confessing how much of my trust she has betrayed or should I just not talk at all and play it safe by letting her initiate it once she comes to know that I was disturbed? Oh well I was shattered to be quiet honest. Too much of time freezing fantasy made me check the time. It was 5.45 pm. I couldn't help but ridicule myself about dreaming about freezing time and literally let an hour flow by me! Oh dear God I needed to light the <i>velakku*</i> before it strikes 6! I stopped thinking all of a sudden and marched towards home. It was 6.03 by the time I could manage opening the door. It was ajar.</div>
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There she was, sitting like a frog in front of the velakku. She was bending gracefully over it and was about to put out the lit matchstick. She carefully protected the flame with her long and artistic fingers till the breeze abated. Were those the very fingers that held the disgraceful cigarette? How could it be! As I wondered, she replied,<span style="color: #990000;"> "Too late Amma."</span> That killed me.</div>
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<i><b>Velakku*</b></i> - The traditional diya one can find in an Iyer/Iyerngar's home.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-71683536488429005112012-12-14T01:43:00.000+05:302013-08-08T14:50:20.656+05:30Let Us Be.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>Love is a necessity.</b> Its probably one of those 'I don't know why but I need it' kind of a thing in our lives. But how needy can one get that it completely over shadows the other silly-cute-small beautiful things that happen at every moment in one's life? Why are we blinded for that one desperate moment? Its unforgivable to allow ourselves to let one of the many kinds of desperation to take over us so much that we miss those priceless irreplaceable happy moments that we encounter everyday.<br />
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<b>I find love all around me.</b> I do not want to sound spiritual or self-realised but then though I am neither yet, I honestly do. I feel the love when a dog wags its tail at me. I feel the care when a tenderly leaf settles on my shoulders from a tree far above. The breeze constantly kiss me with concern. Trust me I am not being romantic here. I am being me. Just the usual me. At any given point of time. Okay enough about me.</div>
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<b>I am no one to preach about love.</b> But I definitely know how one can be happy when one is or isn't in love. There is nothing deep or profound to talk about it. But depth and profoundness is how it begins, only to find that its the most uncomplicated and liberating things that can happen to you. Love is the only cure for the kind of world we are living in right now. It has always been 'the' cure. Love is best felt when there is a lot of 'giving' involved with absolutely nil expectations. Its the toughest of things to agree to, but when one is involved in this divine act, one would realise this is the only way to feel free; free of burden, free of unnecessary thoughts, free of wanting and free of endurance. </div>
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<b>Love is an experience.</b> It always ensures happiness. If it hurts us, then we are to be blamed. Its because we expect something out of it. Its because we depend on someone else too much to make us happy that we can't continue the way we are when they leave us all on our own without a warning. Its because we never love ourselves enough to sustain for long. Its because we cannot accept people for who they truly are. Its because we are greedy for love. Its because we 'want' it. </div>
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<b>Love need not always be associated with romance.</b> Love is only minutely different from devotion. Love stays when there is faith, when there is no mind work and when there is a willful surrenderance.</div>
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<b> Let us stop thinking.</b> Let us give ourselves the love that we all deserve. Let us let love answer the door to all the problems in our lives. Let us acknowledge love from every possible entity around us. Let us be. Just be. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-87131920174696382342012-10-01T00:36:00.000+05:302013-08-08T14:51:08.928+05:30Life, death and the Immortal virus.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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And Death shall be no more;</div>
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Death, thou shall die!</div>
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And Death shall be no more,</div>
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Death thou shall die.</div>
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Repetition? No. Noticing the punctuations? Yes. Is that the only difference? No. You might pelt stones at me but I am forced to say that the difference is as huge as Shakespeare's and Hellen Garner's works. That is what I learnt today after watching Emma Thompson re-living her life whilst battling her insidious ovarian cancer of the 4th stage with pernicious side effects.<br />
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<span style="color: #444444;"><b>WIT </b></span>(2001). Life and death begin as mere entities that may give birth to a complex body of work with a lot of scope for word play. They seem abstract. They seem to make Poetry. Slowly, they become personal; so personal that there lasts no more word plays or abstraction. Humanity takes over creativity. Feelings take over grey matter. Emotions take over a strong will. <i>Emma Thompson</i> aka <i>Vivian Bearing</i> is the kinds who makes fun of her own misery. <b><span style="color: #444444;">Plain cold humour</span>.</b><br />
<a name='more'></a> One can't help but have a silent dialogue with her at every point of the movie as she talks to you, eye to eye. Mostly the eye talks louder. You will find yourself looking into a pair of assertive blue eyes, that does not express in sync with the emotions that her words express. She is tough. She likes it that way. She renders the words life,death and eternity with the same tone as if they are mere words. I would give it to you if you could watch the movie without finding yourself in the same room as of hers by the end of it all.<br />
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Dialogues and delivery take the limelight. You better free all your senses while sitting to watch the movie. No multitasking shall take place. It shall be you and Vivian having a dialogue for the next one and a half hours. You are allowed to weep, laugh and talk to her in those one and a half hours.There shall be moments where you might feel sorry for Vivian while she has brief but tough times with the indifferent, information rich and research hungry physicians. While their insensitivity might evoke sympathy in you, it evokes amusement in Vivian. You should be getting to know her better now. The dialogues are painfully funny and 'wit'ty. To decide what to be done after your heart stops, whether to get your chest pumped out and triggering the heart to function or to let it go, while wetting your bed out of fear is a situation Vivian is put in. Beat that.<br />
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Be prepared and toughen up to watch this masterpiece. Hey watch it anyway. Its worthy of a disturbed mind and a few sleepless nights. WIT is magnificent. It is <span style="color: #444444;"><b>on the face</b></span>. Watch it 'atleast once' before you die.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MOVIE : Wit<br />
DIRECTOR : Mike Nichols<br />
ACTOR: Emma Thompson<br />
Picture Courtesy : Cantstopthemovies.com</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-82964446074231376242012-07-16T12:27:00.001+05:302013-08-08T14:51:44.791+05:30SHE is the MAN!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Everytime you reach that milestone you have set for yourself and are just about to bask in glory, you come across someone who has done it all and is calm about it. I mean, whats their problem? Why do they have to intimidate us so much? Yen? Kyun? Why? Ahem. *drinking jillu thanni*#tamizh</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Well this post is all about that one woman in my life, who would give any man, a competition in the highest degree of masculinity. She is THE man. She is SHARADHA.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Sharadha Sridharan- my sister (2nd cousin). A rowdy daughter of Mr. Sridharan, one of THE most soft spoken, loving and gullible father I have ever come across in my life. She is busy giving exams for CA and has the b...ahem, 'guts' to take time out for her unexplainable passion for the <b>man's</b> game - <u>CRICKET</u>. She has even been on TV and has given a very heart melting interview on women's cricket. I had a tough time battling with her attitude and convincing her to let me interview her. I had to edit it a dozen times to make it sound formal and delete all the 'swear' words she used while replying to my very genuine kossins (questions). Here you go!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnyxiUKIT-eqoMcWwpVn_Hv9q_3J3IwAT82PoHnEI_B3KIsMPBLNMk1LbIrNfIRS1xMSXW9-ywe4NlyjtqEEycdJbvpScsYqaVal3DdCCBJJda3jEAooaibp7EL1oDlqvNvATuGplCmkI/s1600/DSC_5580.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnyxiUKIT-eqoMcWwpVn_Hv9q_3J3IwAT82PoHnEI_B3KIsMPBLNMk1LbIrNfIRS1xMSXW9-ywe4NlyjtqEEycdJbvpScsYqaVal3DdCCBJJda3jEAooaibp7EL1oDlqvNvATuGplCmkI/s640/DSC_5580.jpg" width="372" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>When did you develop interest in cricket?</i></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>I used to watch a lot of matches since childhood; almost since when I was 3. I used to play amongst guys in streets from the age of 10. I slowly developed a keen interest and felt a strong urge to play for a team at a higher level.</i></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>When did you decide to take it to the next level?</i></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Only after I joined college did I discover a women’s cricket team. This seemed as an open invitation to me. My seniors such as Thirushkamini who has represented India helped me develop as a player by giving me enough opportunities to play in college matches. </i></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>When did you get the first opportunity to play at a higher level?</i></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>I was 17 when I got my first chance to represent Tamil Nadu in the ‘Under 19’ category. The matches were held in Andhra Pradesh at Ananthpur. I felt extremely proud and elated that I have started living my passion literally.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>That came along when I played for the University Of Madras in Gwalior. I took 6 wickets for 18 runs. Till date, this performance remains close to my heart. We eventually won that match.</i></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Which one are you best at? Batting/bowling/fielding?</i></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>I love fielding but I am naturally good at batting. Bowling always comes last.</i></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>What have your parents to say about this passion of yours?</i></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>They have been unbelievably supportive throughout. What moved me a lot was they did not say a word when I missed my CWA inter exams for the sake of State matches held at Goa for 10 days. I am planning to write them this June.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>I am a Commerce graduate pursuing ACS and ICWA. I have completed ACS inter. I am very much looking forward to completing both of them successfully at least before 40!</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">So thats about it. I got an unexpected chance to photoshoot her with her equally rowdy team mates in action. Check out the <a href="http://light-o-sutra.blogspot.in/2012/07/tigress-club.html#axzz20lNvjJMt" target="_blank">TIGRESS CLUB</a>.</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #990000;"><u>P.S:</u></span></b> This is one of the new ventures I have taken up. I interview people who do what they love in spite of their mundane professional life. It inspires me to never give up on my passion(s) in life. See you all soon with my next post :)</div>
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<b><span style="color: #990000;"><u>P.S.S:</u></span></b> Jillu thanni - chill water</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-85494311979702463862012-05-09T16:45:00.001+05:302013-08-08T14:52:14.388+05:30Why I LOVE myself<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Its such an easy thought. But my answers can get a little edgy. Read on!<br />
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<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
I am nice. </div>
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I am eccentric.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
I am modern in thought.</div>
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I am traditional in dressing up.</div>
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<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
I am a free thinker.</div>
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I am an enthusiast.<br />
<a name='more'></a> </div>
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I look up to all. </div>
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I learn from all.</div>
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I am happy and generous.</div>
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I love in a manner that is effortless.</div>
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I am simple.</div>
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I am easy.</div>
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I don't expect.</div>
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I am unexpected. </div>
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I am vast.</div>
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I am a mystery.<br />
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I appreciate.<br />
I set high standards for myself. </div>
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I like what I do.</div>
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I do what I like.</div>
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I love my old friends.</div>
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I make new friends.</div>
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I move on.</div>
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I hold onto my precious past.</div>
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I am a listener.</div>
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I am a talker.</div>
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I am non-sense.</div>
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I am philosophical.</div>
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I live life to the fullest.</div>
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I let life lead me.</div>
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I multitask a lot.</div>
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I am restless.</div>
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I am social.</div>
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I laugh a lot.</div>
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I am spontaneous.</div>
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I am unstoppable.</div>
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I am full of ideas.</div>
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I create and redefine.</div>
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I am a burst of colour.</div>
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I am a black and white lover.</div>
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I revere technology.</div>
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I go ga-ga over vintage.</div>
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I dont define myself.</div>
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I am the undefined.</div>
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I am random.</div>
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I am a narcissist.</div>
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I am a woman.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I am a paradox.</span></div>
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<u style="color: #660000;"><b>P.S:</b></u> Oh! You love me too? Cool! I have some company! :D</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-82533461218298399152012-03-16T03:46:00.000+05:302013-08-08T14:52:38.527+05:30Reality called LOVE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There was a lot of hush-hush talks he could hear. Distant echos and erratic ring tones filled the lobby. But above all, it was the thumping of his heart that was more audible. By now, the news had sunk into him. She will be soon dead. <br />
<a name='more'></a>He had digested the news. He had decided never to shed a tear, the moment the news shattered his world. He followed practicality. He knew exactly what he felt. He knew exactly who he was. There was always clarity in his thoughts and actions. He looked at his mother-in-law. Her cheeks were stained with dry marks of uncontrollable tears. She seemed tired and drained of energy. He kept starring at her. Her hand loosely held a 108 beaded mala. She still had hope. Her body was still, but her fingers kept counting the beads in succession. He could imaginarily listen to her prayers within. He put his head down and tried to think of nothing. His perfectly polished shoe gleamed at him.<br />
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<span style="color: #990000;">"Its a tradition that the wife should serve her husband in every possible way. She should cook for him, serve him food, hand him the filter coffee and even polish his shoes." </span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">"Well. Why dont you be 'practical' and marry again in that case?"</span>, she had asked disdainfully while getting her foot massaged by him. He had playfully tickled her foot and later kissed it.<br />
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It was all so vivid. He wondered how such a trivial scene could have possibly been etched in his mind in spite of the busy life he lead. He closed his eyes and warned himself to move on and not to dwell in the past memories. He did not want to take time to move on. He wanted the next day to be like any other day. He did not want to invite any form of sympathy. He was ready to wake up early and cook food for himself. He was ready with his presentation for the next day in his office.He had told his boss that he would be there to present, in spite of his boss offering him a concession. He was practical. He knew how to react. He was clear.<br />
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The door infront of him read Operation room. He kept staring at the words blankly when the door opened. He saw a doctor emerging out while undoing his mask. The doctor had merely uttered,<span style="color: #990000;"> "Mr.." </span>and he got up on his feet.<span style="color: #990000;"> "Yes I am her husband. I hope the formalities don't take much time for I have to make arrangements for our family to reach base."</span> The doctor gave a pause and uttered,<span style="color: #990000;"> "Your wife is alive. She is a strong woman. And I bet she has a caring family"</span>, looking at his mother-in-law. He felt a pat on his arm. He saw the doctor walking away. He had heard him. His mother-in-law was prostrating on the floor with her palms joined. His head began to spin. His thoughts were cut loose. He stood there awkwardly.<br />
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He lost control of his senses. The lobby was filled with a huge cry. The cry was deep, hoarse and painful. His mother-in-law stood on her feet and saw him on his knees. He cried profusely. He held on to her cotton saree like a frightened baby. He walked on his knees towards her and hugged her legs. She could not understand what she saw. She stood there and let him drench her saree. She gently pulled him up on his feet. He was weak. His hands searched for support. She told him,<span style="color: #990000;"> "She is not dead son! She is alive!"</span></div>
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He nodded at her in approval and sank his face in his palms. He retrieved his hands and saw a blurry pair of polished shoes. A drop had fallen on its perfect shine. He heaved heavily. He could hear people whispering about him. He closed his eyes. Realisation dawned upon him. He realised emotion. He realised reality. He realised Love.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-9090250288057864422012-02-29T01:22:00.003+05:302013-08-08T14:53:30.126+05:30I follow ALL / NO religion<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I remember quoting my own quote on Facebook a few months ago, to be precise on 11 FEB 2011, 3.52 PM that read,<br />
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<div style="color: #990000;">
NEVER try to 'define' GOD.....LOVE....and definitely not ARCHITECTURE!</div>
<br />
I still talk this abstract. Manufacturing defect you see. But enough of it. I have had enough of this eccentric avatar of mine. After a lot of muddled up talks with my clear headed friends and family members, I realised the UGLY TRUTH that most of my beliefs and thoughts are not at all well thought of. There hasn't been enough introspection or contemplation for many of my inferences. It was such a hard hitting reality for me. The 'ego' within me that had been in hibernation mode for years was hesitantly awoken. I finally decided to break down this jargon abstractions to atomic simplicity.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
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|| GOD was my target || </div>
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I only wanted to understand the concept and not define it. In the quest for researching for my thesis, I bumped into this amazing woman who is unbelievably well read. She happens to be the wife of my father's colleague. He turns out to be my fathers formidable opponent on tennis court. She invited me over to her place to let me borrow a few books on Symbolism and Hinduism amongst a sea of books ranging from management to psychology. I was speechless by her interest in such diverse fields.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It was truly an exhilarating experience rummaging the whole collection for two of the thinnest and smallest of books. When I finally got hold of them, I frantically opened to get enlightened. They were in such simple language and yet I struggled to understand. I loathed myself. It was one of those times again. But I didn't give up. With a heavy frown on my face, I continued reading. After getting rid of her after hours house hold chores, she got back to me. She silently observed me, my posture and finally succeeded in finding me from a world I was lost in. She kept silent even though she knew that there were some loud conversations happening withing my head. I slowly drew a chair besides her focusing somewhere else and mumbled unconsciously, "This is all too heavy and scattered", nodding my head in disapproval. I met her eyes with a disgusted look and what I got in return was a convincing smile. I finally blurted out, "In Hinduism, we never worshiped idols right?" </div>
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She got up, fetched a clean notebook and a pen, and sat close besides me with such confidence and passion. In a nano second, she hypnotised all my senses and began to mellifluously impart her knowledge.</div>
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<i style="color: #444444;">Hinduism is not a religion Akila. It never was.</i><span style="color: #444444;"> I interrupted, "Yes, right. It is a way of life!" </span><i style="color: #444444;">Yes (smiling)</i><span style="color: #444444;">. </span><i style="color: #444444;">That is why it is known as SANATANA DHARMA, 'Sanathana' meaning 'Universal' and 'Dharma' meaning 'Righteousness'. The life lived by people on the banks of the river Sindhu (Indus) is accepted as the best way of livelihood worldwide. In the </i><br />
<i style="color: #444444;">Ddeccan, people had problem pronouncing the word 'Sindhu' and hence altered it into 'Hindu'. Therefore their way of life was termed as 'Hinduism'. </i></div>
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<div style="color: #990000; text-align: left;">
<u>Mental note no:1</u> - Hinduism is a way of life.</div>
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<i><span style="color: #444444;">BRAHMAN or NIRGUNA (formless)- the cosmic spirit. It is not to be confused with 'Brahma' ( the creator) or 'Brahmin' (a caste). Our aim was always to worship this spirit. It is like the air; you cannot see but only feel and live on it. As we breathe it in, a part of this spirit exists within us; all of us. Hence we treated everyone equally considering that every living thing possessed the same cosmic spirit. So we became the ATMAN; the cosmic spirit possessed body. What was subsequently worked on was to establish a balance between the ATMAN and the BRAHMAN viz. the 'body' and the 'environment'. The resultant activities were Yoga, Dharma, Karma etc.</span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><u>Mental note:2</u> - Routine and rules formulated for balance in life. </span></div>
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<div style="color: black; text-align: left;">
<i style="color: #444444;">As BRAHMAN is an Omnipresent spirit, it was too abstract a concept for the common man to understand. That led to him giving the spirit 'form', 'name', and 'quality', the summation of which is ISHWARA (the lord). This put a full stop to the abstract concept of 'Nirguna'. For a better understanding, we can classify it into two; 'Absolutist' and 'Theism'</i>.</div>
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<i>Absolutist always lead only to worship.</i></div>
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<i style="color: #444444;">Theism lead to praye</i><span style="color: #444444;">rs <i>which further lead to rituals, customs, traditions and festivals. These were </i></span><i><span style="color: #444444;">practiced essentially for the society, in order to establish a symbiotic man to man and man to nature conn</span><span style="color: #444444;">ection.</span></i></div>
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<u>Mental note:3</u> -The social activities never sprang out of religion but out of a wish for a balanced livelihood.</div>
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A few seconds of meaningful silence lasted between us. I finally broke it with a 'Wow!'. How can man complicate such a clear concept by simplifying it, I wondered. "I already feel self-realised", I sniggered. She giggled back and wished me luck for my thesis. As I left her place, I stated, "Thank You would be an under-statement." She humbly nodded expressing, "Of course not", and welcomed me again to her place in a very genuine tone. As I walked back home, I decided to share this with the world through the second best medium known to me. I already feel as if I did a good Karma today!</div>
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<div style="color: #990000; text-align: left;">
"Friendship is not always about pulling each others leg and making fun of
each other. It is also about the immense respect you have for each
others words and way of life and how much you evolve because of his/her
presence in your life. Otherwise, its pure company. Not friendship."</div>
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This was a recent Facebook status update of mine. Though this is random, it made me realise how capable I am of thinking with clarity. I am looking forward to re-discovering myself and my believes in all possible ways. All of a sudden, my life ahead seems so clear and welcoming.</div>
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<u style="color: #990000;">P.S:</u> I gave my <a href="http://www.captivatingragasever.blogspot.in/" target="_blank">music blog</a> a revamp! care to take a peak? Also, I designed a new header for my<a href="http://light-o-sutra.blogspot.in/#axzz1cuir6p00" target="_blank"> photoblog</a>! You know I crave for appraisals!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-86846909651280210042012-02-25T01:11:00.001+05:302013-08-08T14:53:56.725+05:30Benevolent Ms.Confused soul<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
I have earned a fan. Yes. <b>A fan</b>. No I am not being proud. I am just admitting a fact here.<br />
You know for sure that you have earned a fan when each picture of yours on Facebook is viewed, liked and commented with ecstasy. You know for sure that you have earned a fan when you are given utmost attention, the level which you wouldn't have imagined. You 'definitely' know for sure that you have earned a fan when he/she claims to be one every time you strike conversations with them. And hell yeah! You 'confirm' that you have earned a fan when you are awarded more than once for your not so famous blog. <br />
My dear bro...ahem...'<span style="color: #990000;">hotties</span>' and sisters!<br />
Presenting you, that one fan who isn't tired of me yet---<i><b>Shreya Zachariah</b></i><i><b> a.k.a </b></i> <i><b><a href="http://perceptionsofaconfusedsoul.blogspot.in/" target="_blank">Confused Soul</a>! </b></i><br />
<a name='more'></a>(strangely she seems to be very clear about being my eternal fan).<br />
The angel that she is, she decided to pull my 'lower than grasshoppers knee' spirits up by awarding me with such a prestigious award in blogosphere equivalent to<b> "Bharata Ratna"</b>---<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-otI5keHdgbA/T0fNgwddJEI/AAAAAAAABKg/H3hDmjGgx7Y/s1600/Untitled.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-otI5keHdgbA/T0fNgwddJEI/AAAAAAAABKg/H3hDmjGgx7Y/s1600/Untitled.png" /></a></div>
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I am sure she had a tough time choosing my blog as one of the 10 she thinks as deserving enough. I am also sure that she isn't biased towards me just because I am a South Indian. (Shreya! See? I told you they won't realise it!). I now add this to my AWARD ROOM.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"As a dutiful citizen of blogosphere, I shall religiously follow the rules vested upon me with acceptance of this award."</b></div>
<br />
It states, <br />
<ol>
<li><i><span style="font-family: Schoolbell; line-height: 150%;">Post the award
the rules on your blog.</span></i></li>
<li><i><span style="font-family: Schoolbell; line-height: 150%;">List 3 things
you would change if you were overlord.</span></i></li>
<li><i><span style="font-family: Schoolbell; line-height: 150%;">List 10 blogs
you think are worthy of world domination.</span></i></li>
<li><i><span style="font-family: Schoolbell; line-height: 150%;">Leave them a message
in their comments section with a link saying you chose them. </span></i></li>
</ol>
<span style="color: #990000;">1. I have already done that.</span><br />
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<div style="color: #990000;">
2. '3' things I would change if I were an Overlord. </div>
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As this award is restricted to the field of blogging, I would exercise my power judiciously. Here they are!<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>I would switch souls with Kalpak Bhinde for a day and earn as many fan followers as possible for my humor, poop humor and humour (with a 'u') --- not necessarily in that order.</li>
<li>I would hack Indi Blogger and other blogger communities and rate myself the highest with the least number of posts.</li>
<li>I would kidnap Chintan for a day and torture the blog world with her absence unless you all increase my number of followers to '999 only.'</li>
</ul>
*Rubbing my palms with great satisfaction* That was judicious enough, wasn't it?<br />
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<div>
<span style="color: #990000;">3. '10' blogs I think are worthy of world domination. </span><br />
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Hey I am the Overlord! I can back out of this! No? Okay stop 'booing'. How kiddish! Don't blame me! You asked for it!<br />
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<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li><a href="http://anuglyhead.blogspot.in/" target="_blank">RED HANDED :</a> Daringly humorous blog highly maintained by a hot, arrogant, mysterious, fertile woman. Ooooh la la la! Please some one remind me I am a woman! Oh yeah she is a South Indian too. Ahem...just saying!</li>
<li><a href="http://chintangupta.blogspot.in/" target="_blank">BLUNT BLOG :</a> <b>Dhaam! Dhoom! Slap! Kick! Baam! </b>Need I say more? I warn you. Do not step into her world unless you are assertive about having zero ego! She can get you with her 'no-nonsense' nature or touch you with her out of this world thoughts. In any case, trust me. she is INTENSE!</li>
<li><a href="http://divyathemostuseful.blogspot.in/" target="_blank">SENSLESS SENSE OR SENSIBLE NONSENSE?</a>: Is she kidding me? She has intentionally jumbled up the truth! Its full of sensible sense! Be it fiction, be it a rant, be it mock or be it 'random'! She imparts sense to almost everything! </li>
<li><a href="http://sarusinghal.blogspot.in/" target="_blank">WORDS:</a> Her poems are as simple and vast and deep as her blog name. She has won over thousands of hearts with her effortlessly woven emotions and words. Her husband has every right to feel insecure and possessive of her. PERIOD.</li>
<li><a href="http://theobviouslyoblivious.blogspot.in/" target="_blank">NOISES OF MY EMPTY VESSEL:</a> I do not understand why these 'full of grey matter' people always like to disguise themselves as 'empty headed' Zonkers! Of course blondes are attractive but seriously? What a wanna be blonde! Nevertheless. When I am at his blog, either I go mute after crossing 20,000 Hz of loud laughter frequency beyond which it becomes ultrasonic and inaudible to a human ear OR I sit there in awe at this 'writer avatar' in him. Oh yeah I also tend to exercise my kidneys and intestines promptly after reading his posts, thanks to his intricate details of his poop in every second post of his.</li>
<li><a href="http://littlemomentsofbliss.blogspot.in/" target="_blank">SERENDIPITY</a>: Choice of words! Choice of words! Choice of words! Her posts have such a pleasant touch to them. They mostly revolve around day-to-day events in a common man's life yet you would read it because you want to be re-told in an angelic way. Just like how we would never get sick of hearing stories from our grandma (No I am not referring to her as a grandma. Just saying.)</li>
<li> <a href="http://priyankavictor.blogspot.in/" target="_blank">CONFESSIONS OF THE CHOCOLATE OBSESSED:</a> I clearly do not see why this blog would need any description by me. I was clearly late in discovering her blog. Any which ways. If my words give any boost to her writing skills, then here goes. Each post of her is 'a lesson to be learnt' piece coated with chocolate. She never fails to receive less that 50 "Hershey's kisses" per post. Mush, heart break, realisation, survival, love, tips and what not? She is a master of all genre. </li>
</ol>
<br />
The above are the blogs I feel that are meant to <b>dominate</b> the world! The following are what I feel you should hit at all times! They give you best of companies at any time of the day.<br />
<br />
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li>a. <a href="http://thedevilsworkshop-nick.blogspot.in/" target="_blank">THE DEVIL'S WORKSHOP</a>: He can be a real charmer. WOMEN! Hold on to something anchored or he would sweep you off your feet! <br />b. <a href="http://perceptionsofaconfusedsoul.blogspot.in/" target="_blank">A WALK ACROSS THE BRIDGE:</a> She is a shocker. Her posts are mini-literary pieces. Most of them appear to me as songs that can be sung with a guitar. Brilliant choice of words I must admit. Some are really heavy to be relished over a cup of tea while others are breezy and comforting. I conclude that she has a beautiful and pure heart.</li>
<li><a href="http://pixelbuffet.blogspot.in/" target="_blank">PIXEL BUFFET</a>: His quality pictures speak volumes about his 'I cant help it' talent. I am personally a huge fan of his post processing techniques. He has evolved a long way and keeps getting better at lightning speed!</li>
<li><a href="http://loonytrash.blogspot.in/" target="_blank">COLOUR SOOT:</a> Her posts are 'freshness' exemplified. She lets you connect with her in person by taking you through her 'most favourite' list of everything. After I read her take on <a href="http://loonytrash.blogspot.in/2009/12/after-i-discovered-ayn-rand.html" target="_blank">THE FOUNTAINHEAD</a>, I officially got addicted to every other post of hers.</li>
</ol>
</div>
<div>
<span style="color: #990000;">4. I shall do that right away!</span> <br />
<br />
<div style="color: #990000;">
<u> P.S: </u><span style="color: black;">I was extremely tempted to include my <a href="http://light-o-sutra.blogspot.in/#axzz1cuir6p00" target="_blank">photo blog</a> and <a href="http://loonytrash.blogspot.in/2009/12/after-i-discovered-ayn-rand.html" target="_blank">music blog</a> in the 'dominant' list. Then I felt. hey! These two are par standards. Those are all 'jujubee' #tamizh</span></div>
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<u>P.S.S:</u> <span style="color: black;">Jujubee - funny senseless colloquial word for 'ordinary' (:P</span><span style="color: black;">)</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-1069882681849783792012-02-23T03:16:00.000+05:302013-08-08T14:54:45.017+05:30The PARADOX that you are to me.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">You are my morning cup of tea</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">and that missing note in my melody. </span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">You are the frame of my picture</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">and that tiny hole in the fixture.</span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">You are the bloom on my scrubbed face</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">and that grey hair underneath the dark waves of grace.</span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">You are the teeth that make my smile</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">and that very tooth that nibbles on my nail. </span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">You are my dark fantasy</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">and that sharp bitter delicacy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">You are the dew drop on the leaflet</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">and that falling droplet that I let.</span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">You are the drizzly shower</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">and that effervescence of my temper.</span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">You are the rhyme in my poetic notion.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">and that broken nib of my mighty weapon.</span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">You are the rustic fragrance in my book</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">and that lost bookmark I search for every corner and nook. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">YOU ARE MY STRENGTH.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #990000;">YOU ARE MY WEAKNESS.</span> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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*********</div>
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<br />
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<u style="color: #990000;">P.S:</u> I stumbled upon another blog with the title 'THROUGH MY EYES'. <br />
So I 're-welcome' you all to<a href="http://multiplepersona.blogspot.in/" target="_blank"> <span style="color: #990000;">"99.9% TRANSPARENT"</span></a> :)</div>
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</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-82364343147003986972012-01-29T01:14:00.000+05:302013-08-08T14:55:19.238+05:30INTIMIDATION<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<u>25 NOVEMBER 2010 </u><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Looks like tiny pores on a blanket of mysterious blue,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Blinking helplessly as if stuck in place with glue.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Natures miracles they say...its true I say...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">How can such a simple composition be a beauty?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">My mind intrigues thinking of the Almighty!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Looks so blank but takes my breath away,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">they make my past, present and future fade away...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Are we all born only to admire such wonders?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">They make us realise that we are still invisible in spite of achieving the impossible!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We might reach the skies and break the barriers set by nature...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">but these stars...can we ever near them?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So distant yet radiant...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">This proves the obvious hypothetical existence of a power GOD...</span></div>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
Not much have I changed since 2010. But I do not believe in the theory of 'GOD' as much as I did when I penned this down. I have been taking that word for granted. So if at all I would change anything about the poem, it would be the use of GOD here. I typed this in my mobile at around 11 pm, while I was lying on a bed of crab grass and staring blankly at the sky.<br />
<br />
<u style="color: #990000;">P.S:</u> I am in such a phase of life, where none of my thoughts conclude anything. They all have a fierce start and stop abruptly in the middle of nowhere, hanging in space helplessly. All of them have loose ends. Hence such deafening silence in my blog. <br />
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<br /></div>
<u style="color: #990000;">P.S.S:</u> My <a href="http://light-o-sutra.blogspot.com/#axzz1cuir6p00">photo blog</a> is active though. Do drop by and check out my recent works. I recently resurrected my <a href="http://www.captivatingragasever.blogspot.com/">music blog</a> too. Care to understand my other world? :)<br />
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<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-55647807363394061662011-12-10T23:45:00.001+05:302013-08-08T14:56:06.838+05:30DAUGHTER it is!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #990000;">"How did you react when the nurse announced that you have given birth to a girl child?"</span> , I asked my mom with my 'almost popping out' eyes. With a genuine and casual smile she replied <span style="color: #990000;">"I was happy. I had always wanted a daughter. I wouldn't have minded a son but I never 'wanted' one."</span><br />
<br />
You can say it is in blood or be mean enough to coin a 'feminist' tag on me.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
YES. I WANT A DAUGHTER. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I do not care if I am married or a single mother.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I do not care if my husband would be okay with it or my family for that reason. </div>
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I do not care if she would attract all sorts of 'sick' guys around her in her adulthood</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
or snap at me to stay out of her life.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I WANT A DAUGHTER.<br />
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Its a <i>desire</i> which I cannot attach any logic to. I have never really taken any pains to understand this firm and overwhelming love for her. It has sprung out of the blue. Quite frankly I am surprised by this unreasonable yearning even while leading an 'enduring' life with my mom. She is a great woman no doubt. My friends would pounce on me if I complain. But living with her 24*7 under one roof devoid of bickering and yanking is a challenging feat. My problems, my headache. I am moving on with my 'urge for a daughter' topic.</div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7FfTylmjntQ/Tu25oEqHskI/AAAAAAAAA08/T1ErW9Fe5U4/s1600/mother-daughter-relationship.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7FfTylmjntQ/Tu25oEqHskI/AAAAAAAAA08/T1ErW9Fe5U4/s320/mother-daughter-relationship.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image Courtesy: http://www.fashioncentral.in</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I find myself dreaming of names for her in my lone times. I imagine
dropping her at school and other places of her interests in my scooty.
Most of the times, I have a vision of her lying on my lap and discussing
with me about men and women in her lives. There have been flashes of us
enjoying a concert or a movie and having difference of opinion. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rZ6C8tO-uEM/Tu2u90KFPEI/AAAAAAAAA0U/LLlG6ubdxaA/s1600/Mother-Daughter.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rZ6C8tO-uEM/Tu2u90KFPEI/AAAAAAAAA0U/LLlG6ubdxaA/s400/Mother-Daughter.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image Courtesy: http://blog.timesunion.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I would
want to learn new means of enjoying life from her. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I await the day when
she would intimidate me and I would ask her advice before taking
sensitive decisions. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I would trust her decisions and actions and give her the freedom to think for herself after voicing my opinion. I would not think twice to bunk office on a random day and walk hand in hand with her along the beach.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I would stay awake to watch her sleep until my organs take control of me. </div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nXhormO4Pe0/Tu23D3zj8bI/AAAAAAAAA0s/yorp7Pvicno/s1600/714.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="416" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nXhormO4Pe0/Tu23D3zj8bI/AAAAAAAAA0s/yorp7Pvicno/s640/714.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mother and daughter snuggle together in bed while laundry hangs to dry.<br />
Image Courtesy: Nat Geo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I feel a warm hand wrapping me from behind, getting cozy up to me and sleeping in spite of having her own room to have her private moments.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I see her body maturing and she blossoming into a young woman unaware of her own beauty. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I see her standing in front of the mirror and appreciating her looks only to grow more bolder and assertive of herself.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I see a picture of her and me on her wall, nestled in a million wallpapers and pictures of her friends and role models. </div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-28rK_vt6dyI/Tu231rYWP9I/AAAAAAAAA00/wLsnF70NO-E/s1600/700-00279920w.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-28rK_vt6dyI/Tu231rYWP9I/AAAAAAAAA00/wLsnF70NO-E/s400/700-00279920w.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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I find her fetching me a cup of tea on a Sunday morning with the right amount of sweetness I enjoy.</div>
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I find joy in helping her clean her room and smiling to myself while accidentally finding love notes from guys.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I find myself sitting with her amidst the half cleaned room and getting nostalgic over her childhood albums found in the act. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I find her constantly comparing her looks with me and feeling elated over how much she takes after me.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I find myself preparing home made remedies for her painful acne and dandruff prone scalp.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I find her inviting me into her room full of teenagers and adamant on me being a part of their fun moments.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #990000;">But TIME always plays a 2-faced bitch.</span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black;">She would make me her first enemy.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black;">She would soon feel old enough to decide things on her own without my knowledge.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black;">She would soon be wanting to experience and learn from life rather than learning from the morals of mine.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black;">She would get physically intimate with a guy and hate me for instilling the unreasonable guilt feeling in her.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black;">She would misinterpret my concern as nagging and begin to act curt with me.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black;">She would want to return home late at night and expect me to not question her behaviour.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black;">She would blame me for not encouraging her dreams of whimsical nature and conclude that I am jealous of her life.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black;">She would hate letting me touch her tresses. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black;">She would wear clothes for fashion rather than for comfort and get me worked up.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black;">She would want me to leave her alone. </span><span style="color: black;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fuo3Mm_16Zk/Tu3EOifdL5I/AAAAAAAAA1c/10j8Fgl_INc/s1600/Mother_and_daughter_fighting_1772497.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="282" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fuo3Mm_16Zk/Tu3EOifdL5I/AAAAAAAAA1c/10j8Fgl_INc/s400/Mother_and_daughter_fighting_1772497.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black;">She would want to move out of our home and expect me to understand the dire need of her independence.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black;">She would ignore my calls whilst having the time of her life at an unknown place. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black;"> She would discover life in its most beautiful form and struggle to find the right person to share the feelings.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black;">She would find that all have their own busy lives and none would be perennially interested in listening to her thoughts.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: black;">She would have every possible thing to lead a content life and would end up missing an irreplaceable warmth. </span></div>
She would come back to me with tears of forgiveness.<br />
She would become my mother.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WjXEvO3aqMo/Tu3Gv8cIKcI/AAAAAAAAA1k/OFPJJSIr2Xk/s1600/700-00033134w.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WjXEvO3aqMo/Tu3Gv8cIKcI/AAAAAAAAA1k/OFPJJSIr2Xk/s400/700-00033134w.jpg" width="280" /></a></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The thought of writing this post was in my mind since a month. It took me so long to finally write them because these thoughts never occurred collectively to me. Each day I would get hit by two or three lines that would move me and I would jot them on a piece of paper in my vicinity. But as I wrote this post, too many thoughts bombarded my mind. I have tried to put them across in the most uncomplicated way possible.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
As I started to search for pictures that would best define my lines, I couldn't fight back my tears welling up in my eyes. It was embarrassing and irritating. I was overwhelmed.<span style="color: #990000;"> </span><span style="color: #660000;">I have realised that it would be a daughter that would </span><i style="color: #990000;">complete</i><span style="color: #660000;"> me. </span></div>
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The above personally chosen screen captures <span style="color: #666666;">(I achieved it with the help of VLC player)</span> are from the critically acclaimed movie <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kannathil_Muthamittal">KANNATHIL MUTHAMITTAL</a> <span style="color: #666666;">(literally translates to 'Kiss on the cheek')</span></div>
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Apart from witnessing a thoughtful direction by the legend Mani Ratnam, this movie is evergreen to me for throwing light upon a mother-daughter's sensitive relation. The movie is available with English sub-titles. </div>
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My dearest readers. Its my humble request you watch this movie and soak in its after effects for a day. I am as sure as gravity that it would leave you dumbstruck or even worse, choke you. </div>
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<u style="color: #990000;">P.S:</u> There are too many feelings I am going through at this moment which I am unable to express. My vocabulary seems to be negligible. Its frustrating to not be able to share everything I feel. But every word I have typed stems right from my heart. The only effort I took was to choose the right words to do justice to my feelings.</div>
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<u style="color: #990000;">P.S.S:</u> Though I miss the old unique look of my blog, this look seems to be more neat and smells feminine. no? :) </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-56926407858378501312011-11-26T23:47:00.000+05:302013-08-08T14:56:44.202+05:30I bring out the BEST in YOU!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
No, I need not be your better half to do that. I can just be a really benevolent, grounded, kind, concerned and caring soul who is interested in inspiring others! In short, I can just be ME! <span style="color: #666666;">( Okay stop those fake coughs and loud giggles # ego bruised)</span><br />
So fellas! I am pretty sure when you own slim and sexy laptops and pay for unlimited internet to blog, comment and watch videos <span style="color: #666666;">(ahem...of your choice)</span>, you must be rich enough to own a digi-camera??? NO? Don't wait till your NRI brother gifts you one you misers! Use your mobile ATM <span style="color: #666666;">(of corz you DAD)</span> and get sexier!<br />
For those who own one, you are allowed to shriek out loud and post on your fb status bars...<i>" Akila is finally imparting her impeccable photography skills with her crajeee fans!" </i><span style="color: #666666;">( or something on the same lines)</span><br />
<br />
Before commencing my lecture on how to hold the camera, the following are very important points to be noted.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
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1. DSLRs aren't indispensable. You dont click bad pictures because you dont own a DSLR. You click bad pictures because....because of...well some other reason. BUT NOT DSLR!<br />
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2. You need to be an 'oxymoron'. You need to be a philosopher and at the same time a practical atheist<span style="color: #999999;"><span style="color: black;"></span></span>.<br />
You need to see a pencil for more than what it appears to be. A rubber for more than what it appears to be <span style="color: #666666;">(no guyz I am not thinking what you are thinking)</span>. Also cultivate the habit of seeing a pencil as a pencil . You do not have to keep sending ulterior messages through all your pictures. <br />
Click a picture of a child for its cuteness. Don't pinch it and make it cry and then caption it<i> " the heartless mother that he has got"!!!</i><br />
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3. Do not get inspired by 'random clicks' album of all 'wanna-be' photographers you stumble upon every freaking hour on facebook unless you consider yourself some random person.Be specific. Know what you are clicking. Dont click and then torture yourself to induce a meaning into it!<br />
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4. Bring out the 'gutsy', 'invincible' and 'daring' characters hidden deep inside you! No eh? You don't find them? Well then 'develop' them! They help you a lot in photography. Also you should have a good presence of mind and be over-observant. Not to miss, you should develop the 7th sense in you and predict what is to happen at least 2 secs prior to the incident!<span style="color: #999999;"> <span style="color: #666666;">(well 1 sec to throw a stealthy look left and right, 1/2 a sec to position your camera and 1/2 a second to actually get the 'Oh shit! I hope no ones looking' and finally focusing on the subject)</span></span>.<br />
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5. As much as possible, for the sake of your most loved thing on earth, avoid using flash. It has always played the culprit of all bad pictures. You surely do not want the picture to scream about your oily skin or hair for that matter!<br />
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6. Forget your love life. Haha! Just kidding. No seriously. Forget it. You will have to re-bound with one of these---Picassa, Photoshop, Adobe Lightroom and plenty of them!<br />
<br />
Now that I have warned you of the essential criteria, we shall proceed with 'my very own priniciple' of photography.<br />
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<div style="color: #660000;">
<b><u>ESSENCE OF A PICTURE:</u></b></div>
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1. Lighting<br />
2. Subject<br />
3. Composition<br />
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<u><span style="color: #660000;">1. LIGHTING:</span></u></div>
Light is photography! Its as important as blood for the body, water for the fish, ..ahem..sacred organ for the guys! Lighting does majority of your work. It accentuates the<b> textures</b>, helps one <b>focus</b> on a particular area and make you worship either science or God!<span style="color: #666666;"> (depends if you are an atheist or the good person)</span><br />
If the lighting is interesting, even Rakhi Sawant can look beautiful. PERIOD.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CIxDVPzb_CU/Ts_qDbzN5uI/AAAAAAAAAuc/uA-cBhHEPxM/s1600/DSC08165+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CIxDVPzb_CU/Ts_qDbzN5uI/AAAAAAAAAuc/uA-cBhHEPxM/s320/DSC08165+2.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><u>FOOT NOTE</u> </span>: This capture is a page from ATLAS SHRUGGED, a legendary novel by AYN RAND.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"> Her concepts are extremely profound. They speak about the dark and real side of life and </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"> how 'being oneself' till the end is such an 'ugly fight' in this world. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><u style="color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span">ABOUT :</span></u><span style="color: white;"> </span>This is a self-potrait of my hand on her book. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"> The light source is a book reading point light</span>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Read more: light-o-sutra <a href="http://light-o-sutra.blogspot.com/2011/10/unspoken-words.html#ixzz1ekLxmvaI" style="color: #003399;">http://light-o-sutra.blogspot.com/2011/10/unspoken-words.html#ixzz1ekLxmvaI</a></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><br />belongs to <span style="color: #990000;">akila venkat
</span><br />Under Creative Commons License: <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0" style="color: #003399;">Attribution Non-Commercial No Derivatives</a></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><br />
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<u><span style="color: #660000;">2.SUBJECT:</span></u></div>
Subjects are the easiest target. But they aren't always interesting. They depend a lot on what interests the photographer and the viewer. Oh wait! I know the perfect example!<br />
Of late, photographers have gone the 'macro' way. All of a sudden Megan Fox's pouted wallpapers have been replaced by really eerie looking dragon flies with a billion eyes starring at you and its segments rubbing against each other and gesturing,<i> "eheheheheheheh! Pray for your life Prey!"</i><br />
So yes. They found it interesting and I clearly did not. So that justifies my point.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cEEDv7yjEf4/Ts_roLlpuLI/AAAAAAAAAuk/SbNmrYn0Yjw/s1600/DSC07195+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cEEDv7yjEf4/Ts_roLlpuLI/AAAAAAAAAuk/SbNmrYn0Yjw/s320/DSC07195+1.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Subjects like these are bound to bring a smile on people's face.<br />Unless you are assertive of having an impact on the viewer.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Read more: light-o-sutra <a href="http://light-o-sutra.blogspot.com/2011/10/unspoken-words.html#ixzz1ekLxmvaI" style="color: #003399;">http://light-o-sutra.blogspot.com/2011/10/unspoken-words.html#ixzz1ekLxmvaI</a></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><br />belongs to <span style="color: #990000;">akila venkat
</span><br />Under Creative Commons License: <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0" style="color: #003399;">Attribution Non-Commercial No Derivatives</a></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000;"> <u>3. COMPOSITION:</u></span></div>
This saves you if you are devoid of the above two principles. You might be drawn to abstraction, colors, a set of slippers, or a rolled mat! In such a case, nothing is going to come to your rescue. You need to present it and attract viewers for the very reason it attracted you! Introspect. Why were you drawn to that subject? You will find enigmatic answers within yourself . If the answer is "Who cares! I want a picture for my 'random clickzzzz' album", then go commit suicide from ground floor of a building! Go!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sufe_k7L5oA/Ts_zrlY9QKI/AAAAAAAAAus/P4aXrznvzqE/s1600/30862_389657699935_794644935_3744731_8054257_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sufe_k7L5oA/Ts_zrlY9QKI/AAAAAAAAAus/P4aXrznvzqE/s400/30862_389657699935_794644935_3744731_8054257_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">One of my very first clicks with my 2 MP NOKIA E 63<br />You get the picture now? No strong subject. No lighting. <br />Yet has earned a dozen 'likes' and comments.<br />Why??? COMPOSITION.</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #660000;">FYI . The first two pictures are by my digi-cam. </span></div>
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AS SIMPLE AS THAT! Good news for you all. Softwares like Picassa and Photoscape can be downloaded for free! Do them right away and start giving a new look to pictures you think are rotten! Its fun! Experiment! Undo all! Again experiment! I told you! Give up on your love life! <br />
Wait where are you sprinting away? Picture abhi baaki hai mere dost log!<br />
<br />
All you proud and narcissist bloggers! Your next post shall speak about your photography. For once, stop playing with words and start playing with pictures! Give me 3 pictures, each living by the above said principles. If I have taken this effort to make the lecture post an attractive read, I demand you respect them! <span style="color: #666666;">(sheeesh!you fellas made me a despo!)</span> <br />
Supernickkkkk can post them in his photo-blog. The rest! Catch my point?<br />
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<u style="color: #990000;">P.S :</u> Remember this date. 25-NOV-2011. The day my blog hit 5000 page views! :D<br />
Cant wait to see your clicks guys. I swear on 'thayir saadam' I will help you improve brilliantly! just show me the results!<br />
<u style="color: #990000;">P.S.S:</u> Thayir saadam=curd rice...oooh! now I am famished! damn!<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-37955491444219336182011-11-14T21:09:00.001+05:302011-11-14T22:43:51.453+05:30MY IMMORTAL<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyIBjDP7dTYd0uj-89ovDX94ay5djluNw4zv1A5DrDBU-fmEpIX7aXBm9fQ-i-MPGCRnOLneZ1K2GqHUqsJdQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
Yet another face of mine fellas :) That's me performing on MY IMMORTAL by EVANESCENCE with my bestie Karthik, an ace guitar player! :)<br />
I feel this would majorly connect me with you all! :)</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-31887813729367902352011-11-08T21:22:00.000+05:302013-08-08T14:57:27.166+05:3010 things 'I' hate about You<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<pre style="font-family: inherit;"></pre>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-beJJPqQkId4/TrlMLT1orLI/AAAAAAAAAoI/7gChry1FuiY/s1600/10+things.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="220" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-beJJPqQkId4/TrlMLT1orLI/AAAAAAAAAoI/7gChry1FuiY/s400/10+things.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><u>Nasty sis -left; pretty sis -right. Duh!</u></td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-IN">Pretty
sister</span></b><span lang="EN-IN">: <i style="color: #660000;">Where did you come from ??? Planet LOSER?</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-IN">Nasty
sister</span></b><span lang="EN-IN">: <i style="color: #660000;">Oh yes
as opposed to planet ‘Look at me! Look at me!”</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-IN">(I rewind…play…rewind…play…frantically
rewind…play…and ROFLMAO !!! )</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IN">Ever since I watched ’10 things I hate
about you’, I succumbed to Hollywood. Julia Stiles surely did the job! I owe it
to you Julia! Such a brilliantly hilarious <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">yet</b>
casual <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">yet </b>intimate <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">yet</b> exhilarating <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">yet</b> senseless <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">yet</b>
addictive movie shouldn’t be just watched, laughed and forgotten about unless
it is timely played as one among the 10 mundane collections of movies on Sony
Pix. It should inspire you and linger in your mind and body for a while.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IN">In case any of you fellas have ‘dared’ to
miss it (for this unforgivable sin, you shall be fried in a man vessel of
boiling oil behind the burning gates of HELL!), the movie is about how a ‘hard
to crack’ girl finally gives way unknowingly and realises that she is actually
capable of loving and being loved! The father-daughter 'cliché 'understanding,
the sister-sister 'xoxoxoxo' bonding, the hero-heroine 'hearing bells' and 'floating'
on a thin sheet of air with 'springing' eyes, the moment they look at each
other for the first time ‘and’ the poetic lines the hero belts out for his love
effortlessly and kissing her under a 'concentrated beam' of moonlight…is
absolutely not what you find in this movie! GO WATCH IT! And now for some
serious ‘sticking to my topic’ business.</span><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> By the end of the movie, Julia Stiles reads out
'10 things she hates about him'. Read and emote for yourselves!</span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<pre style="font-family: inherit;">********* </pre>
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<pre style="font-family: inherit;">MR. MORGAN<span style="color: #999999;">(professor): </span><span style="color: #666666;">All right. I assume everyone has found time to complete their poem.
</span><i style="color: #666666;"> (continuing)</i><span style="color: #666666;"> Alright. Anyone brave enough to read theirs aloud? </span></pre>
<pre style="font-family: inherit;"><i> </i></pre>
<pre style="font-family: inherit;"><i>No one moves. Then Kat slowly raises her hand</i>.
KAT: <span style="color: #660000;">I will. </span></pre>
<pre style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Patrick<span style="color: #999999;"> (hero)</span> looks up.</i>
MR. MORGAN : <span style="color: #999999;">(anticipating the worst)</span> <span style="color: #666666;">Lord. Here we go. </span></pre>
<pre style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Kat stands and walks to face the class. She clears her throat before reading from her notebook.</i>
KAT:
<b style="color: #660000;">I hate</b><span style="color: #660000;"> the way you talk to me</span></pre>
<pre style="color: #660000; font-family: inherit;">And the way you cut your hair.
<b>I hate</b> the way you drive my car.
<b>I hate</b> it when you stare.
<b>I hate </b>your big dumb combat boots</pre>
<pre style="color: #660000; font-family: inherit;">And the way you read my mind.</pre>
<pre style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="color: #660000;">I hate</b><span style="color: #660000;"> you so much it makes me sick.
It even makes me rhyme.</span>
<i>She pauses, then continues.</i>
<span style="color: #660000;">I hate it...
</span><b style="color: #660000;">I hate</b><span style="color: #660000;"> the way you're always right.
</span><b style="color: #660000;">I hate</b><span style="color: #660000;"> it when you lie.
</span><b style="color: #660000;">I hate </b><span style="color: #660000;">it when you make me laugh;
Even worse when you make me cry. </span></pre>
<pre style="font-family: inherit;"> </pre>
<pre style="font-family: inherit;"><i>She begins to cry as she continues to read.</i>
<b style="color: #660000;">I hate</b><span style="color: #660000;"> it when you're not around
And the fact that you didn't call,
But mostly</span><b style="color: #660000;"> I hate</b><span style="color: #660000;"> the way I don't hate you;
Not even close;
Not even a little bit;
Not even at all.</span>
<i>She looks directly at Patrick. He looks back this time, morose, thoughtful.
Then she walks out of the room The rest of the class remains in stunned silence.</i></pre>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<pre style="font-family: inherit;"><i> *********</i></pre>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<pre style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-IN">Gosh! I still remember how much I was affected by those few seconds of the movie!</span></pre>
It inspired me to come up with my own version of '10 things I hate about you!'<br />
<pre style="color: #999999; font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-IN"> </span></pre>
</div>
<div style="color: #999999;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">
<b style="color: #999999;"><span lang="EN-IN">I
hate</span></b><span lang="EN-IN"> it when you read me by merely looking into my
eyes.<br />
<b style="color: #999999;">I hate</b> it when you can focus on
something else even in my presence.<br />
<b style="color: #999999;">I hate</b> how well you bond with my friends
and make them happier than I ever have.<br />
<b style="color: #999999;">I hate</b> how much they ask me about
you in spite of so many things ‘happening’ in my life.<br />
<b style="color: #999999;">I hate</b> how you pop in my head first,
every time I think of my future.<br />
<b style="color: #999999;">I hate</b> how you have made me your
avid listener from a happy chatterbox!<br />
<b style="color: #999999;">I hate</b> how I check myself more than
10 times before the mirror for a 5 minute meet with you.<br />
<b style="color: #999999;">I hate</b> how much I have improved only
after you entered my world, <br />
and the fact that I cannot take credits for it.<br />
<b style="color: #999999;">I hate</b> the fact that I won’t shed
even a tear if we part ways ,<br />
because loving you has become a way of life and will remain unaffected<br />
<b style="color: #999999;">I hate</b> the fact that these lines
sound perfect even after replacing ‘hate’ with ‘love’.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-IN"> <u style="color: #660000;">P.S :</u> I did it again! I posted something irrelevant to what I had promised to post in my last P.S. Fellas trust me! I am working on it. Its not 'just another post'. Its something very serious and precious to me 'and' will be to you all too! So please. Chew your nails, twirl your curls or even tear papers...But please be patient :P</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-IN">Meanwhile... Pop your eyes out for my lady crush!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9fIT7QD3qqQ/TrlPknREEKI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/35Jbr-Q8I0I/s1600/julia_stiles_46b7cd1d1e968.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9fIT7QD3qqQ/TrlPknREEKI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/35Jbr-Q8I0I/s400/julia_stiles_46b7cd1d1e968.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's something about you milady!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<pre style="font-family: inherit;"><i> </i></pre>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-30972461196840775952011-11-01T04:11:00.001+05:302013-08-08T14:58:14.554+05:30The DEVIL that the mind is!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NvmmcB2w1Ug/Tq8XiWQzBjI/AAAAAAAAAmY/tE76jMGrDow/s1600/rby-guys-find-sexy-twirl-hair-de.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NvmmcB2w1Ug/Tq8XiWQzBjI/AAAAAAAAAmY/tE76jMGrDow/s200/rby-guys-find-sexy-twirl-hair-de.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
She sat there twirling her hair strand looking at him from the corner of her eye. A bright pink figure hugging tee that flaunted her waxed shoulders completely, a short denim skirt that stopped right below her buttocks and a high fake leather brown boots; she was a perfect 10. None could have resisted gawking at her that day. And there he was, sitting quietly, sipping on his cup of steaming coffee and reading the sports page in the newspaper. She was desperate for his attention. For the first ever time she was insecure about her looks.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<i>Am I over dressed? No No No. I can never go wrong when it comes to fashion. Believe in yourself girl! Don't let him pull you down. Just don't! </i><br />
He could easily see her. All he had to do was deflect his eye balls to his right and he could feast his eyes to his hearts content. It had been 15 minutes since she had arrived at his place. All he did was greet her with an incredible smile and ask her to make herself comfortable.<br />
She could not stand the way he remained unaffected by her presence. Her sheer restlessness resulted in herself rocking back and forth on the couch. Yet no reaction from him. She noticed her cup of coffee on the teapoy and stared at it thoughtfully. She then grabbed it slowly looking at him and sank back on the couch.<br />
<i>Fine! Dont look at me! Whatever damned article you are reading about!, </i>her mind screamed aloud.<br />
As she sipped on her cup of poison, her eyes narrowed and her coffee wet lips broke into a naughty smile. She removed her boots very carefully so as to not hurt her well pedicured feet. As she removed the other one, she whispered aloud, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"Its a lil stuffy in here ain't it?"</span>, and sat cross-legged.<br />
He looked at her with raised eyebrows.<br />
<i>Ahhh! Got ya! My legs are surely gonna bring your eyes down macho man!</i><br />
His eyes traveled above her head and looked at the A/C. It read 24 deg C.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> "Wohaaw! Are you by any chance from Alaska my dear? I am pretty comfortable at 24 deg! Do you want me to reduce it to 21?"</span>, he asked her in a genuine tone.<br />
She was baffled! She found herself faking a laugh and nodding her head the 'no' way. He smiled at her and got back to his sports page. She felt like plunging into a near by pool!<br />
<i>Oh my goodness! What is wrong with me? Did I just fake a laugh? You stupid woman? Couldn't you make it sound genuine? Great! Now he must have been convinced you are just another dumb wanna be chick!</i><br />
It was hard for her to try, for trying was never a need for her. All she had to do was push her wavy strands of silk behind her ears and she would be flooded with proposals in all possible ways. Guys from colleges other than hers would line up outside her college and some of them would even follow her up till her place just to grab the last look of her for the day.<br />
And there she had voluntarily entered his place in one of her best looks ever, and found it hard to get his eyes on her for even a second!<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U2yra87OUwk/Tq8dfi32vgI/AAAAAAAAAmg/xfrsFCbvdhs/s1600/SuperStock_1569R-80021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U2yra87OUwk/Tq8dfi32vgI/AAAAAAAAAmg/xfrsFCbvdhs/s320/SuperStock_1569R-80021.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
His sudden giggle shook her for a moment and made her realize how un-contented he was capable of making her feel about herself. He had giggled over a funny quote in the sports column. He sank back on the sofa as he set the cushions conveniently behind his back. His biceps flexed and made her weak. As his smiling eyes slowly died and sharpened out of concentration, it stirred something deep in her stomach. She dug her long and shaped nails into upholstery as she sipped on her coffee with a straight face. Her imagination was running wild.<br />
She wanted to fling away the newspaper from his hands and sit on his lap facing him. She wanted to feel his rugged face and brush his stubs against her milky soft cheeks. She wanted to be held close to him in the most painfully tight way and be kissed and stop time! She wanted to smell like him forever. She wanted to lose her fingers into those thick black waves brilliantly blending with a few grey ones.<br />
<br />
She spilt a few drops of coffee on the couch and let out a short shriek as she felt 2 hands hugging her from behind the couch. She hastily placed the cup on the teapoy and stood up facing her friend. She saw two eyes popping out and a voice greeting her with a girly tone. Her lips automatically spoke,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"> "Babe! You scared the shit outta me! Phew!"</span>,and sighed in disbelief. Her friend approached her jumping and hugged her tight. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"You are looking absolutely stunning babe! Guys out there are going to have a tough time with their jaws in place!"</span>, naughtily giggled her friend. She silently looked at him with blushed cheeks and found him look at her at peace with his hands behind his head.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> "Of course you are a jaw dropper my dear"</span>, he said with a grin. She felt like running amok and shrieking on top of her voice at that very moment! All she could manage to do was return his compliment with a sugar coated<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"> "Oh! Thank You"</span>.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"Papa! Don't make her blush now! She looks all the more gorgeous and I cant walk besides her looking like 'this'!"</span>, her friend pointed at herself with disappointment. He gestured towards his daughter with open arms. She saw her trot like a kid and sink into his arms. Her heart skipped a beat. Her eyes got slightly moist out of controlling her uncontrollable fury. He pulled his daughters cheeks and said,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> "You know our precious secret right? Your mother is the most beautiful woman I have ever met in my life, but once she disappears into the kitchen, you know who takes the crown!"</span> he winked at her and hugged her back as she giggled louder. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"Now I don't want to play the bad guy by delaying your shopping plans! Off you two go and have fun! Stay away from troublesome guys! And in case you bump into any, you know whose number to dial!"</span>, he said waving his mobile at his daughter.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> "Awww dad! You are my hero!"</span>, she replied back with a twinkle in her eyes. He smiled and looked at his daughter's friend.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> "And you my dear! Please don't leave her side. And do keep dropping by our place whenever you feel like doing so! Our doors shall ever remain open to pretty ladies"</span>, he concluded with a dashing smile as he sat back on the sofa to continue reading the paper.<br />
<br />
Her cell phone beeped and vibrated as they set out for shopping. She stopped walking and read the message in her mobile. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"Whose it babe?"</span>, asked her friend impatiently.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"> "Oh its nothing. Mom just messaged me asking me to meet her right away! Sweets why don't you go ahead and catch a rickshaw? I will join you in precisely 5 minutes. I swear I won't make it any more late"</span>, she cajoled her friend.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"> "Sigh! Fine! But start running! I will give you a missed call once I get a rickshaw!"</span>, her friend replied.<br />
She turned back and ran towards the opposite end of the road. The message read, 'next to the telephone booth near the first cross junction of the street'. She was at the junction as she read the message. Out of no where she felt her hand being pulled and held close to him. He pressed her against the wall and sank his lips into hers. She closed her eyes tightly and let him enjoy her body.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> "Where were you all this while? Man!!! How much I missed you physically princess! You get me crazy! You know it! And you enjoy it silently don't you?"</span>, he asked her naughtily, holding her close to him by her hips. Her mobile beeped and vibrated again. As he smelt her neck, she opened the message and read it in a jiffy.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"> "Its your sister. She has gotten into the rickshaw! I need to run now Casanova! You can very well have me later!"</span>, she replied to him with utmost casualty in her voice. As he saw her thick tresses bouncing and her sculpted legs galloping rhythmically away from him, her mind said,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"I cant believe he is HIS son! Ha! Loser!"</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
******************</div>
<br />
<u><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">P.S:</span></b></u> Somebody needs to stop me from getting addicted to fiction. Especially the naughty and wild ones! Sigh!!! Aandavaa#tamizh!<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"><u style="font-weight: bold;">P.S.S:</u> </span>No this isn't the post that was supposed to evoke a new avatar in you! Hopefully it should be the next post unless I come up with another piece of fiction in my mind that urges me to type it down at 4 in the morning!<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-90866698180476453482011-10-31T02:30:00.000+05:302013-08-08T14:58:37.762+05:30FACEBOOK made me KEWL!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
While every second person is bored to death with Mark Z's creation, I am all praises of FB for various reasons.<br />
1. I got to know people who are head over heals in love with me!<br />
2. I re-gained many people in my life who I thought I can not even dream of being in touch with!<br />
3. I got to flaunt my talent effortlessly and 'earn' some serious and super crajii fans!<br />
4. I finally got over the 'idiot box'-- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">(the crappy cartoons and wanna-be reality shows helped me get over TV sooner!)</span><br />
5. I got 'all the more' creative and humorous! :D<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
All of a sudden I started receiving more than 2 dozen 'likes' for my status updates! And who is complaining??? I am that kind of person who doesn't think twice to brag if I am 'genuinely' good at something. I am also that kind of person who would 'if possible' stamp on my own face if I go wrong on something that 'I define'!<br />
So here are a few of those status updates I am extremely proud of! Get your pop-corns and ice-creams ready to double the fun factor!<br />
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====================================================<br />
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<i><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">12 MARCH 2011, 10.14 PM</span></u></i><br />
<br />
"WOMEN are tough to understand"...REALLY?<br />
Let me cite a VERY COMMON situation.<br />
- a boy and a girl fall in love and break up.<br />
<br />
<i>situation 1:THEY FALL IN LOVE</i><br />
<br />
<u>girl</u> : OMG! i am soo blessed! this calls for a treat!<br />
<u>guy</u>: OMG! lets hit the bar!!!!<br />
<br />
<i>situation 2: THEY BREAK UP.</i><br />
<br />
<u>girl:</u> OMG! plz evryone leave me alone!*shuts herself inside a room and cries her eyes out*.<br />
<u>guy</u>: OMG....lets hit the bar.<br />
<br />
(take ur time fellas)<br />
<br />
<b>20 LIKES !!!</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
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<b>*********************************</b></div>
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<i><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></u></i>
<i><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">08 MARCH 2011, 4.55 PM</span></u></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
To the girl who thinks she is beautiful, when others make fun of her undone hair</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
who still thinks she is bold,when every second creature resembling a girl is gettin raped</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
who still thinks she is in love with a MAN, who is teased because he wouldnt gt physical during a fight</div>
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who still thinks she is a son and supports the family in spite of being the only daughter</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
HAPPY WOMEN'S DAY.</div>
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i am almost there ;)</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>29 LIKES !!!</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b>*********************************</b></span></b></div>
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<i><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></u></i>
<i><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">02 MARCH 2011, 6.33 PM</span></u></i></div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Mom was busy preparing PAYASAM <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">(kheer)</span> in the mrng for MAHA-SHIVRATHRI. I look at her..I look around...the camphor burning...the agarbathiis fragnance...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<u>Me </u>: Amma!!! i cant wait to be like you! </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<u>Amma</u>:<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">(shrieks)</span> what!!! you already have a guy???? </div>
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<u>Me</u>: .... :/ .....</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>15 LIKES!!!</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b>*********************************</b></span></b></span></b></div>
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</div>
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<i><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></u></i>
<i><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">11 FEB 2011, 3.52 PM</span></u></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
NEVER try to 'define' GOD.....LOVE....and definitely not ARCHITECTURE! :D </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">(Viya would relate to this pretty much!)</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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13 LIKES!!!</div>
<div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><br /></b></span></b></span></b></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b>*********************************</b></span></b></span></b></span></div>
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</div>
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<i><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><br /></span></u></i>
<i><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">30 JAN 2011, 10.01 PM</span></u></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<u>JANUARY 2011</u> : An EPIC month for me...Every single day of this month is clearly memorable! </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<u>30 Jan 2011</u>: I surprised myself by planning a trip to ELEPHANTA caves at the last moment...travelled ALL ALONE and ended up realising that I am CAPABLE of entertaining myself!!! Now I know I would NEVER die if I am the last person on this earth!!! </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
and yeah... I LOVE YOU AKILA!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>22 LIKES!!!</b></div>
<br />
<br />
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<b>====================================================</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
For more such incredibly crazy statuses, catch me on Facebook! :)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">P.S</span></u></b>.: My next post is going to be on something that would give birth to a new avatar in you! So wait pannungo<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">#tamizh</span> ! :D</div>
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<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-65806490001396123542011-10-28T00:01:00.000+05:302013-08-08T14:59:30.597+05:30LOVE, SEX and DHOKA- connecting with self<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.the-nri.com/index.php/2011/10/prostitution-and-sex-india/">http://www.the-nri.com/index.php/2011/10/prostitution-and-sex-india/</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
All was fine until I stumbled upon this link. My day was filled with myriad of emotions---<i>ecstasy, bliss, happiness, anger, and satisfaction </i>until this post made me<i> sad</i> in a very helpless way. This isn't the first time I have heard stories from the red light area. But what disturbed me was her (Anukriti's) inferences from her interactions with the sex workers. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
By the end of the article, my immediate reaction was to agree with Anukriti (the author of the post), shut myself in my room and curse the world for its ugly reality. Unfortunately I seemed to be more 'intrigued' and less 'affected' by the post. A number of things popped in my mind at a time, each one trying to beat the other.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Arranged marriage, emotion, suicides, </i><i>Love sex aur Dhoka- the movie, </i><i>photography, drugs, love marriage, death, diseases, life, nirvana, detachment.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
TRUST ME. Even I was unable to figure out the connection between these words at once. A human mind races so fast that it beats the speed of light! So I took the effort of rewinding my thought process and playing it in a super slow mode.<br />
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*********</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I remember discussing about<u><b> <i>love</i></b></u> and <i><u><b>arranged marriage</b></u></i> with my bestie. We were trying to picture ourselves in both situations.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">"I cant imagine getting physical with him for at least 3 months of marriage"</span>, she expressed, in case of an arranged one.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"> "That is obvious Aki! I would be marrying an acquaintance if not a total stranger! I shall have to fall in love with him first to get to the next level! After all 'sex' isn't everything!"</span>, she concluded.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"If it is an arranged marriage, she better be damn good looking! I would be more greedy and demanding in that case. Sex is a need for all guys. Also, a person who says 'looks' aren't important, I would ask him/her to hump his/her partner's character and nature!"</span>, expressed my closest of guy friends <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">(this led to a heated mini-verbal tiff between us)</span>. <b>So does the whole world revolve around sex after all??? </b>I say, unless I establish the 'connection', I can never give myself wholly in the act, be it love or an arranged one. So for people like me, <i><u><b>emotion</b></u></i> is very important. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Emotion during the 'act' is what <b>differentiates</b> me from a 'prostitute'. I am not denying that they are devoid of any kind of emotions in life. But then its 'business' to them. The whole world agrees to the famous saying, "In business, there is no place for emotions". And this is one business that has a history tracing back to some 100 BC ! They never incurred loss; <i>thanks to the ever hungry horny men of all times!</i> Sex is so 'sought out' for, that it drives a person to the extent of betraying one's trust. Hundreds of innocent women have been video taped while being fooled to have been fallen for. Somehow, its always a woman who loses her honor after having lost her virginity and the society has succeeded in making her feel guilty. The whole 'being alienated' and 'betrayal' saga leaves one no choice but to opt for <u><b><i>suicide</i>.</b></u> Most people opt for <i>drugs</i> to come out of the suicidal phase of life. It invariably invites some really<b> <i>fatal<u> diseases</u></i></b> and culminating in <i><u><b>death.</b></u></i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This whole video-tapism and sexual exploitment reminded me of <b><u><i>LOVE, SEX aur DHOKA</i></u> </b>movie. Never have I seen such a brilliantly choreographed and well stitched movie shot with a really low budget! Its a must watch for those who have missed it. I loved the hidden camera stunts in the movie. I personally have stealthily clicked innumerable 'timely' pictures of my friends and family and end up getting cursed for my inimitable talent! <i><b>Hidden</b></i> <i><u><b>photography</b></u> </i>seems to have defined me! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">(oh shit...topic deviation alert!)</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You know guyz? Prostitutes are just one step behind of attaining <i><u>'nirvana'</u></i>. YES, you heard me right. They have experienced the so called 'highest of pleasures' that ever exists in the world. They would have by now realized that it isn't anything close to divinity at all! That makes them partially 'self-realized' already! All they have to work on is detaching themselves from materialistic life. As for us common folks, we will have to work on both; emotional as well as materialistic <i><u>detachment.</u></i> </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">*********</span></span></div>
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I am amazed at how random yet connected my thoughts can be after reading my own post. This was what I had always wanted to know! For the first time, I have proved to myself that my thoughts do have some serious meaning attached to them! Penning them down (in this case typing) with 'teeth-gritting' patience really helped me connect with my 'serious' self! I am glad I did this!<br />
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<u style="font-weight: bold;">P.S :</u> This post was neither about my opinion on 'sex' nor on 'prostitution'. It was all about knowing how my thoughts travel. But I do have some serious voicing of opinions to do on sex. I shall take time as I am still unclear as to why exactly it disturbs me. So that post shall come up after a few 'typically akila' types posts! </div>
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Though I do wish my readers take me seriously, I really cant stop being my 'silly' self! When I was typing about the 'hidden photography' talent in me, I was tempted to share this with you! So here goes!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RMYfuZG0-rA/TqmiFuiA9RI/AAAAAAAAAhM/kYoCZVXNXTU/s1600/Pic1168.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RMYfuZG0-rA/TqmiFuiA9RI/AAAAAAAAAhM/kYoCZVXNXTU/s400/Pic1168.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">This woman slept in this very position for almost 50 mins!!!</span></td></tr>
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I know....I can be 'impossible'! :D</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-35041533625063873742011-10-23T19:10:00.000+05:302013-08-08T15:00:25.660+05:30The day it 'ENDED'----- Scene 3-The finale!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I KNOW! I KNOW! I am BERY BERY SAARIII !!! :( <br />
I was totally caught up with my last minute submissions and some serious photography! I wont keep you waiting anymore! So after this <a href="http://multiplepersona.blogspot.com/2011/10/long-day-scene-1.html">prequel</a> and this <a href="http://multiplepersona.blogspot.com/2011/10/day-of-action-scene-2.html">sequel</a>, here goes the rest!<br />
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As she landed on the cushioned bed with full force, her heart skipped a beat due to the unexpected phone call. He grabbed the opportunity to breathe in enough oxygen and let out a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">'Phew!'</span>. The phone sang,<i> 'Lets make a night...to remember...' </i>with amazing electronic guitar backing. As she fumbled to take out the mobile from her pocket, he rolled on her with a loud wicked laughter almost scaring her! She struggled her way to prevent him from getting any closer to her as she managed to get hold of her phone clumsily from her pocket. He watched her reaction shift from orgasmic smile to an unpleasant shock. He froze looking at her and saw her staring at him with her almond shaped eyes almost popping out. She hushed him and took the call.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"Hello?...Yes speaking?....Oh! Tell me sir!"</span>. She looked at him with a disgusting expression but maintained the warmth in her voice.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"Oh sure sir! If you don't mind can you please mail me the new requirements? That will help me calculate the areas sooner and start afresh."</span> His face dropped. He fell towards her left so hard that he automatically bounced on the bed three times. As she looked at him with a crinkle on her nose, she spoke into the phone, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"Don't worry sir. You will get it done by tomorrow. Oh no problem sir. Of course of course! Our clients are our Gods! Good night sir!".</span><br />
Her fake smile slowly died as she put her head back on the wall and looked up at the ceiling with emptiness in her eyes. The room was silent for 2 whole minutes as they sat there looking blank. She looked down at him. His face and body was still. His eyes were thinking. As she cautiously kept her hand on his chest, he sprang up on the bed and stood up, startling her. She saw him disappear into pitch darkness. She sat there for a minute thinking of all possible emotions he was going through.<br />
It had been weeks since they had had any intimacy. Most of the times, she was to be blamed. This job of hers had made her a nocturnal. She almost forgot how mornings looked and felt like! She hated her lifestyle but she couldn't help as she was terrific at her work. She had never refused a night of intimacy. That was because he had never asked for one. He seemed to be the very 'epitome' of understanding and hence never wanted to put her in an awkward position by asking.<br />
Finally she talked herself into believing that he will be back with a pleasant smile after grabbing himself some fresh air. As she settled to work, she noticed the mug of tea with a layer of thick cream. It had lost its freshness. It was cold. All of a sudden she sat there stunned as it reminded her of her own life! She was to be blamed for it. She got paranoid.<br />
<i> I shouldn't let this go on! This is dangerous! Hell no! I got to put a stop to this insanely mundane routine! How? No! I will work it out! 'We' will work it out! Tomorrow, i'll come back home early and surprise him! YES! That would be a good start! We will talk it out later and sort out things! YES! We will!</i><br />
Her mind paused as she felt his fingers on her shoulders. She closed her eyes and smiled to herself. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"Thank God da...phew...Thank God!!!"</span>, she breathed, with her eyes still closed.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"I am sorry... I cant do this anymore. I LOVE YOU. I want to continue to love you. In that case, we can't go on like this. Off late, its been more of 'putting up' with you and your work schedule. I don't want that. That makes this whole thing look like a burden. That way I wouldn't be true to you...and 'us'. Of course I LOVE YOU! But I am unable to accept your life style. We do nothing apart from acknowledging each others presence. By that I mean, we miss on so many silly, intricate and subtle moments together! Our lifestyle doesn't co-exist any more. Lets be mature and accept it. Let is not break each others heart any further. You love your work. I love mine. You are mind-blowingly good at yours! Well I'm maintaining a 'B' grade after all and that's above average!"<b>*winks and lifelessly chuckles*</b></span><br />
Her eyes finally met his. Her face was stiff and expressionless. But he noticed. She was torn. Her iris was fluctuating violently. He searched for one other sign of pain and found absolutely nothing. He was amazed at her emotional strength. He felt she was too good for him as always.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"Where are you getting to?"</span>, she managed to ask with a steady voice.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"I had thought of a 'break' initially, but that isn't going to help us at all. We are destined to serve our individual and totally opposite fields. So with an absolutely helpless and psyched feeling, I ask for a 'break up' with absolutely no second thoughts."</span><br />
She saw that coming. She had always trusted his decisions blindly. They were always clear and confident. She had always refrained from arguing with him further on his decisions. She turned herself towards her laptop and saw a brilliantly planned bungalow opened in AutoCad. She put her face down on her folded hands on the table and lied down. Her mind was blank. She felt as though she was drugged. She stayed still for 2 minutes.<br />
She finally lifted her face and rested her chin on her hand. The tea mug wasn't there anymore. She slowly straightened herself on the chair with an intrigued face.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"Oh! Good! You got up on your own! I was struggling to think of ways to wake you up and avoid your lashings!"</span>, he chuckled and placed a hot mug of tea on the table.<br />
She looked at him and felt her stomach churn. She turned towards him and fumbled with her words. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"You...Made it now? I mean...you..kind of..re-heated it now? I mean..why? why would you do that?"</span><br />
He looked at her puzzled.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> "Answer number 1: I prepared it just now. Answer number 2: that question isn't valid anymore due to answer number 1!"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"Will you please put a lid on your sarcasms and answer me straight for once?"</span>, she snapped at him.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"I guess I just did!"</span>, he replied surprised.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> "And on earth, we say 'Thank You' in case you reacted that way not knowing how to!"</span>, he said in a melodious tone and mumbled, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"God! Talk about being nice!"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"Okay now that we have broken up, can you please stop behaving with me as if we are still each others???"</span>, she exploded with teary eyes.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"HUH??? Did I hear you right? I mean I've heard architecture does funny things to people but hey! This isn't funny at all!"</span> , he replied in a highly surprised tone. As she looked at him bewildered, his eyes popped out slowly in realization and his lips formed an 'O'. He hastily approached her and held her by her shoulders. He forced her to take a seat and sat on the table facing her.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"Now I get it! Woman! What you experienced a few mins ago was a 'nightmare'! I am very much your boy friend!"!</span> She stared at him and said,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"> "Holy shit!"</span>. He was taken aback by the intensity with which she said and replied,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"Yeah unfortunately yeah! I remain your boy friend! Who did you re-bound with in your nightmare? Gerald Butler?"</span><br />
She slapped him hard and looked at him with eyes full of wrath and streams of river running down her cheek uncontrollably. She sank into the chair, closed her face and wept as if there was no one in the room. He sat there looking at her, unable to believe the intensity of emotions happening between them. He felt horrible for crossing his limits with sarcasms and failing to understand her seriousness. He pulled her towards him by her arm and dragged her to bed. He hugged her tight and whispered, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"I LOVE YOU. I am here."</span><br />
She drowned her face into his chest and held his tee too tight that she unknowingly dug her nails into his skin. That was when he realized what she went through in that 2 minutes of unsettled sleep she grabbed after changing into her casuals.<br />
<i>Thank God! Thank God it was all a bad dream!</i> She lifter her face and looked at him with wet and puffed eyes. He looked at her with a pacifying smile and wiped away her tears. He gently pushed her hair strands sticking to her wet face, behind her ears and let her rest on his chest.<br />
<i>Damn! What a child I am! What happened to all the emotionally stable woman in me!? What a fool I have made of myself now! Cha! Foolish woman! Grow up!</i><br />
Without looking at him, she rose from the bed and straightened her kurti. She wound her hair up and sat to work.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"Just do me a favor. Drink your drug before it gets any colder",</span> he said coolly as he comfortably sat on the bed".<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"Please tell me you are uttering these words for the first time today!!!"</span>, she replied in disbelief.<br />
He looked at her naughtily guessing that she had dreamt of it already and said, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"Err...In reality? Yes mam!"</span><br />
She looked at him with a wide grin and huskily whispered, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"You are done for!"</span>. She stood up and just when she was about to pounce on him, something stopped her from furthering her steps. She turned towards the table and drank the tea in one go. As she wiped her lips in a heroic style with her right arm, she removed her mobile with her left hand, switched it off and threw it on the table. She threw a wild look at him and pounced on him. <br />
The rest is<strike> history</strike>...Deja vu!<br />
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;) ;) ;) ;) ;)</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-76754800936260371022011-10-19T20:52:00.001+05:302013-08-08T15:01:40.775+05:30You know You are in INDIA when...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My PERSONAL observations of a day in India... PSYCHIC man!<br />
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1. You see the traffic police and the traffic signal clash with their functionality.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">(The signal turns green, but you see him flash his palm with full vigor and hasting the vehicles on all the other </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">sides that are under the 'red' signal)</span><br />
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2. You find accidents happening in an 'Express highway' caused majorly<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>by the 'Daisee Dee Lingerie' hoardings of a <i>firangi</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> (white models NOT of India----Thank God for that!)</span><i> </i><b>70 % chances.</b></li>
<li>by surprise craters and speed breakers that makes every normal homosapien a 'super hero' by making them fly with their vehicles and then making them a 'super zero' as they crash into the others. <b>20% chances.</b></li>
<li>by sudden 'special appearances' of buffaloes and stray dogs. How they crave for attention man. And how they end up bleeding red!<b> 10% chances.<a name='more'></a></b></li>
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3. You find that a pale juice-less lemon and a bunch of green chilies are the driving force of any vehicle and NOT the engines.<br />
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4. You infer that the highways are for pedestrians and not for the vehicle. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">[Oh don't question about the foot</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> paths. They are 'rightfully' occupied by the BPL( below poverty line) and with their invisible powers get a </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">legal grant from the Govt. So beware! Don't 'encroach' on their space by taking the footpaths]</span><br />
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5. You find the roads painted with a colorful and abstract combination of' vermilion<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> (dull or vibrant)</span> and shades of grey. The various artists behind such a 'mind-boggling' piece of art are the 'paan' chewers and spitters who solely contribute the vermilion color. For the 'grey' inputs, one should honor the glorious crows and pigeons.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> ( I firmly believe that crow should be our National bird.)</span><br />
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6. You find a beggar begging for alms and you notice his fingers and wrists 'bejeweled' with the 'nakshatra' stones <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">(they tend to be intimidating sometimes).</span><br />
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7. You feel that the person is addressing to a crowd when in reality he is trying to sound audible to the one on the other side of his phone <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">(and puts us on the receiving end<b>-pun intended</b>)</span><br />
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8. You find girls getting out of BMW and bargaining for a Rs.50/- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">(cost price)</span> daily wear slippers on a road side sale.<br />
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9. You find 'that' BMW doing rounds in the street in the process of finding 'free' parking space, finally getting to park and resulting in getting 'towed' as a result of being found in a 'NO' parking space.<br />
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10. When you find autos having 'highly sensitive' meters. I am not talking about their 'we jump with every road bump' motto. They carry very fancily written fonts exclaiming 'DO NOT TOUCH ME'.<br />
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I seriously can go ON and ON about how 'mahaan' MY India is. But I am working really hard on being grounded. So in the next post, I am coming up how 'mahaan' MY India is (in the literal sense). For now, some pictorial representation of my above points or more or less on the same lines.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-y2kH14o5GQQ/Tp7pb7HmB1I/AAAAAAAAAYE/azHoUHr1AGs/s1600/page.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-y2kH14o5GQQ/Tp7pb7HmB1I/AAAAAAAAAYE/azHoUHr1AGs/s640/page.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #cccccc; color: #0c343d;">I have credited the pictures apart from the 1st 2 that carry my Logo.</span></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-21002927096789648972011-10-18T01:45:00.000+05:302013-08-08T15:02:59.833+05:30A DAY OF ACTION! -------Scene 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This is a sequel to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><a href="http://multiplepersona.blogspot.com/2011/10/long-day-scene-1.html">A LONG DAY</a>.</span> To get into the zone <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">(to be blatantly put---to feel the heat!!!)</span>, read the prequel and then the below sequel.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She closed her eyes and found relief. He was poetically slow and gentle. His fingers spoke 'care'. Her shoulders </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">drooped </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">automatically and she leaned back comfortably in the rotatable chair. It seemed like he was playing a piano and as though he was hitting all the right notes on her shoulders.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"Aahhaaaa! You sure know the art well!"</span>, she whispered loudly as she allowed him to relieve her.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"You mean the art of handling a woman???"</span> he asked with a serious tone.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"Ass hole!!!"</span> she giggled and slapped his side thigh of steel.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"> "Massaging isn't an easy job you know. You need to do it the right way. One wrong act and....."</span>, she paused as she noticed that he had stopped massaging. She looked up at him and questioned him with raised eyebrows.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Oh sorry! I was just wondering how come you effortlessly come up with such interesting topics !"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"Ouch!!!"</span>, he screamed and giggled when he felt her painful pinch on his toned arms. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"Okay I'll shut up! Thank you for that wonderful massage with a touch of sarcasm. Now I'm getting back to work. You go ahead and snore to glory. I'll retire to bed quite late"</span>, she said starring at the laptop screen and restlessly opening various folders and files.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He slowly bent down and planted a soft and wet kiss on her sculpted shoulders. A sudden shudder ran through her body and she gripped on to her mouse tighter. This resulted in all the open windows on the screen closing rapidly in succession. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"Damn!!!"</span>, she emoted out of embarrassment and felt like an Idiot. He chuckled. In a low, deep and sexy voice he said,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> "Now THAT's a good sign!" </span>He moved his hand down towards her hip and felt her flesh as he brushed his cheek stubs against her neck. She closed her eyes tightly, bit her lip to stop herself from smiling as she enjoyed the stirring sensation in her stomach. He was turning her on and HOW!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">" You DOG! You aren't helping me at all! Dint you hear me talk about the moronic client and about his ridiculous demands from me? I badly need to get done with this and probably give up on sleep for today"</span>, she said with her left hand holding his wrist, stopping his from further fondling her and her right hand caressing his gorgeous locks from the sides. He looked disappointed. His face was perfectly symmetric and expressionless. But she knew. He slowly retrieved his hand from her hip and stood erect. She felt guilty and at the same time helpless.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"Just do me a small favor"</span>. She rotated her chair towards him and gave a puzzled look.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"Drink your drug before it gets any colder"</span>, he said pointing out to the computer table as he sat on the bed with his legs stretched. With a ridiculed <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"What?"</span>, she turned towards the table and saw the clock display 00:00 hrs. Next to it was a huge mug emitting 'gracefully dancing' threads of steam. All of a sudden the room smelt of 'chai'.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Of course he had 'listened' to my laments. Of course he knew I am a tea addict and only that would help me wake nights. Of course he was 'preparing' chai when I was getting ready to sit with my strenuous work. Of course he 'loves' me!</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She got out of the chair and pounced on him making him laugh loud out of ecstasy and shock. She sat on his legs in a rough way and pulled him close to her face by his tee collar. As she saw him smile in a devious way, she made her fingers through his locks and grab them painfully making him roar,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"You BITCH!"</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"You ain't seen nothing mister!"</span>, she whispered in a sexy voice and let their lips clash. The air around them was charged with wilderness and their lips fought a breathless battle. He un-clipped her hair to distract her. But she was no way 'giving in' or 'giving up'! She was brilliantly fighting him and challenging him with her pace and style. He pulled himself back to inhale and exclaimed,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> "Wohhoow!!! What has gotten into you???"</span> She pulled him back towards her with a sadistic laugh and roared, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"Come on! Fight me!"</span>, and bit his lower lip hard.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He could feel a thin stream of sweat running down his temple teasing his jaw and distracting him from the most sensuous battle he had ever fought! A bunch of her fragrant hair was swaying and tickling his neck. His mind was racing with unsettling excitement as he was on the verge of losing to her. All of a sudden, the mobile in her tracks vibrated and made her throw herself toward his right on the bed.</span><br />
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Buuahahahahah! My sincere apologies again! Time for a 2 day break my fraaands! Till then, happy chewing nails and sweating out of eagerness and excitement!</div>
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<u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">P.S:</span></u><br />
Chai - TEA in hindi/tamil<br />
<i>Aiyo kadavule</i>*!I hope my blog would still be rated A/U!<br />
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<u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">P.S.S:</span></u><br />
Aiyo kadavule - Oh Lord!<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-58267397990403230622011-10-16T06:18:00.002+05:302013-08-08T15:03:19.899+05:30A LONG DAY ----- Scene 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">As she rummaged her bag to get hold of her house keys, her mind was racing uncontrollably.<i> What the hell was I thinking ! I never knew yearning to earn for a livelihood and independence would steal away all the time in my life! Cha*! </i>As she managed to find the key hole in the twilight and push open the door, she found the TV 'on' and coloring the room vibrantly. For a second, she was blinded because of the bright lights. After a moment her eyes got used to it. He was there. She could smell him. As the TV lit and colored the place with a mind of its own, she caught glimpses of him lazying on the sofa. She found BLISS.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">As she put her bag down, she observed his loosely hanging athletic legs from the sofa's hand rest and his tee was accentuating his torso. His deep eyes acknowledged her presence for a minute and shifted back to Roger Federer killing his opponent with his unmatchable strokes. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"Are you trying to seduce me???"</span>, she asked with a devilish tone as she leaned towards the wall.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">He looked at her piercingly.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> "Why? Are you seducible?"</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">A moment of silence and both broke it with their careless laughs.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"Aaaaahhhhh..MY MAN...seems like Roger is turning you ON more than me!"</span>, she joked as she sank into another couch besides him. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"Sigh! I sometimes wish I was gay...look at him...JUST LOOK A HIM!"</span>. He turned his head <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #7f6000;">towards her and grinned wide. Half his face was lit up and his curls were shining bright.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"Hmmm...I wish I was Bi "</span>. His eyebrows rose and his mouth dropped. She wagged her tongue and grinned back. He looked at the clock and asked, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"How come you are back this early today?"</span> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">The clock displayed analogically 23:40 .</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"What can I say! My boss seems to be smitten by me! Of course my work too!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #bf9000;">*winks*</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">He also believes that My presence brings good luck and lovely clients to our office"</span>. He looked at her with smiling eyes. He was impressed.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"Naaaah...How I wish that was the reason. I had to re-work my plans and draft new drawings da. Thanks to my 'unbelievably indecisive' client! I have carried some work back here. He demands the drawings by tomorrow. MORON".</span> She looked at him with a frown and irritation and found him admiring her with his head resting on his firm hands. The TV was still coloring him red and magenta and he looked absolutely delicious. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"Were you even listening to me jack ass???"</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">" You have no idea how much you turn me on by your anger. Its teasingly sensuous".</span> He chuckled.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">It always worked. Always. All her hysteric attitude would last only till the door step. And the moment she saw him, POOF! All gone. Just like that! She couldn't take the ease at which he could melt her.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">She threw a cushion at him playfully and got up with a force. As she combed her hair with her fingers, her aesthetically bordered cotton saree parted a little and flaunted her ample hips slightly protruding out of her hip line. He was enjoying the was she was seducing him unknowingly. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999; font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">"Are you seducing me???"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">She looked down at him as she wound her hair up and clipped it.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"> "Why? Are you seducable?"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"> </span>She winked at him and jolted her hip towards him and swiftly turned away. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">"HAIYEEE HAAIIYEEE"</span>, he sighed and fell back flat on the sofa. She turned and looked at his amused face with a grin as she walked into the room with her laptop bag.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">She opened her laptop on the table and let it run the initial process. Meanwhile she slipped into her track pants and a loose kurti and settled to commence her incomplete work. The room was pitch dark and the only light source was her laptop. As she operated her mouse with a frowned look into the screen, she felt </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">his warm fingers sink into her shoulders and massage them.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> *********</span></div>
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Sorry fellas! I am going to retain the suspense! Wait for it! Wait for it! * Barney's style*<br />
I am finally attempting Fiction! I am 'thrilled' by the thought process! I am horribly slow....but I feel really good! I can be patient with myself...Hell yeah!<br />
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<u><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">P.S: </span></b></u><br />
Hope you notice the importance of coloring my texts at places. It is to help you relate to the post in a better way. Also, it helps in avoiding lengthy posts.<br />
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'Cha'! is a tamilian way of expressing 'shucks'!<br />
Yes fraaands....Iyyam going to help you learn tamil through my posts. Look out for a word or two in them!<br />
YEnna da RASCALA! READYA??<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-50198711218420393112011-10-13T13:49:00.002+05:302013-08-08T15:03:45.174+05:30The TEENAGER in me WRITES...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"WTH! When did THIS happen?"----My exact reaction when I found a notepad article named 'sweet memories' while cleaning my Desktop trash. I have ZERO memory of having recorded this. It dated 10.12.2005 <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">(I breathed a heavy sigh of relief after noticing the year,given my childish writing skills).</span> Though I am unable to recollect writing this note, I did recollect being extremely '<i>obsessed'</i> with my own cute and funny childhood stories! I remember having nagged my mom into telling me each '<i>itsy-bitsy'</i> detail of how I was as a toddler. This probably pushed me into writing the note!<br />
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I grant an exception to this cute note of Akila as a teenager, from my rules of blogging vested upon me.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">* Before you read ahead, let me warn you saying that its not a literary piece or any deep stuff. I had an urge to share this part of me with my blog friends and hence this post! You can relax and read it with a cup of chai and enjoy its silly cuteness*</span><br />
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<u>MY SWEET MEMORIES:</u><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>I was born on 9th jan 1990.it was 2:22 in the afternoon on tuesday when my dad heard my 1st cry from outside the labour ward. </i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>My mom asked the nurse whether the baby was a girl or a boy. When she heard that it was a girl, </i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>she was very happy as she was longing for a girl. My mom said that I took after my dad.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Outside the ward, my dad and Shankar mama were waiting eagerly 2 get a glimse of my face.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>All were happy. My mom and I<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"># me</span> spent seven days in hospital. For the 1st 2 days I was with my mom during the mornings and nights.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>I was bathed by the nurses. During the afternoon they used 2 take me to feed some medicines.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>From the 3rd day I was with my mom 4 the whole day. She learnt how 2 handle me, how to clean my butt when I peed my diapers colorfully</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">(sometimes green,sometimes yellow----*awkward*)</span><i>. Many frds and neighbours of my mom used 2 come and see me and appreciate my eyes. </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>They sed that my eyes resemble my mom's. I weighed 3.5 kgs. I had the loudest voice in the hospital amongst the other babies. People used to tease my mom saying that, "arrey! yeh tho mic ke saath paida hui hai!"</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">( "Oh God! She is born with a mic!"----again *awkward*)</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>My mom brought me to mama's home on my 7th day in my dad's Fiat car</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> (*whistles*)</span><i>.On my 11th day, they celebrated my 'punyajanam' <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">(naming ceremony).</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>All my relatives and my mom's best friend Asha came. Each one had thought of a name for me. My mom wanted to name me SHRIYA because Chaali paati chose the name from lalita sahasranamam.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>My dad had thought of BHAIRAVI as he loves the ragam Bhairavi.Vishali athai(</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> athai- dad's sister) </span><i>wanted to name me RAADHIKA. </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>But at last Rajam paati decided to name me AKILA as she is a staunch devotte of Goddess Akilandeshwari of Trichi. </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Many dint like my name</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">.(Me neither!)</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Suju (my cousin) used to like me very much. She used to move my 'thooli' </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">(thooli-ingenious Indian creation of a temporary 'swing' out of unused 9 yard saree----best out of waste types no?)</span><i>like all elders do to make me sleep. I had the habbit of sucking my thumb. I used to search for a cloth for support and Suju used to run and throw a cloth from above the thooli and I immediately used to catch it. </i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>All used to put me in their lap and move their thigh up and down in order to bring the rocking feeling. if they stop or if they put me down, I would start off <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>I used to cry the whole day so no one were able to sleep. Chaali paati used to bathe me. My mom said that paati bathed me very softly. She used 'kalla maavu'</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> (gram flour---herbal treatment you see)</span><i> and I used to lick them and I never used to cry during my bathing session </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">( why would I? My humger was satisfied with gram flour)</span><i>. Paati used to dry me and clean my nose by inserting a 'thiri' </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">(thiri- thin thread made of cotton used for lighting lamps after soaking in oil)</span><i>. She used to powder me every where. As i used to have tyres in my thighs</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">( as a matter of fact, even now! *grinning wide*)</span><i>, she used to put some powder there also. After drying my hair, they used to allow the smokes of saamrani </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">(err...no idea what you call that in english...why cant you all learn Tamil??seriously!) </span><i>over me as it kills all my germs.</i></span><br />
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........and I ended it JUST LIKE THAT! :O</div>
I was as restless THEN as I am NOW! Somethings will never change I guess!<br />
Just to give an 'awwwwwwww' ending to this post, let me share a 'close to my heart' picture with you.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wU16ShHBSTc/TpaZQajz0UI/AAAAAAAAATU/g90wyUQaV58/s1600/45646+%252814%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="434" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wU16ShHBSTc/TpaZQajz0UI/AAAAAAAAATU/g90wyUQaV58/s640/45646+%252814%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me in the center (notice the car size tyres) flanked by my two cousins Sujata (left) and Shweta (right). The other 2 were our colony frds.</td></tr>
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<u>P.S :</u> I still ask amma to cuddle me the way she did when I was a toddler. And guess what her reaction is??? * THU!* <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">(spittings of India I say!)</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-82995858796246362112011-10-06T14:21:00.003+05:302013-08-08T15:04:12.933+05:30Blogging enters my long 'it just hit me' list!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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You see I am a very 'sensitive' person<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"> (if you have been reading my posts, by now you will know this aspect of 'femininity' in me).</span> But I am still finding it hard to believe that I am INCREDIBLY vulnerable to creativity (no exaggeration in the use of 'incredible')!!!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YbnksJtTR9M/To1lqI2k3LI/AAAAAAAAAPo/f_ah3XbX-Ng/s1600/DSC_0459.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YbnksJtTR9M/To1lqI2k3LI/AAAAAAAAAPo/f_ah3XbX-Ng/s320/DSC_0459.jpg" width="211" /></a></td></tr>
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<u>Me frozen in an impromptu Bharatanatyam </u></div>
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<u> pose in front of Srirangam temple</u></div>
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First it was <b>Bharatanatyam</b>. I was alwezzzz <i>thaka dhimi thaa</i>-ing my way to school,back from school, to my room and even to my 3 feet away bathroom <br />
<a name='more'></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">{ I would get up from my diwaan...hop and land on my right heel, bowing towards it with my right hand near it and my left hand thrown up in the air...I swiftly spin and hop onto my right leg covering 2 feet already with a different hand posture. I then excitedly cover the remaining 1 feet distance by again hopping onto my right feet....I end up bumping my right side onto the wall (why don't I ever realize the size of my body???) I quickly crinkle my nose, glancing the adjacent rooms embarrassed if anyone caught me doing the floppy act...I then leap into my bathroom rubbing my arm,close the door slowly and go...'<i>aiyyoooo Ramaaaa</i>' }</span>.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"> </span>So you get the picture.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eZzlpdTZmO4/To1qL3yfbCI/AAAAAAAAAPw/5gZvX6Js0IA/s1600/DSC07324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eZzlpdTZmO4/To1qL3yfbCI/AAAAAAAAAPw/5gZvX6Js0IA/s320/DSC07324.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
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<u>My handiwork at Mehendi-</u></div>
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<u>the most ingenious artwork of India ever!</u></div>
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Then came along <b>Drawing</b>. Frankly, I was toooooooo good at it <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">( notice the past tense here)</span>! I believed that I could create an exact copy of what inspired me to draw. And I ended up materializing it! I had them all filed neatly in the polythene flaps of a heavy folder and would flaunt it to every Raam, Shyaam and Balraam <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">(my version of Tom, Dick and Harry)</span>who stayed at my place for more than 10 mins!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"> </span>Just like in Kollywood and Bollywood movies, when everything was going so fine and magical, the villain who had to color my life black had set out! To my disbelief it was my 9 month bearer...Amma! *dissshhhh dishh...dish.....* She got hysteric when I ignored my exams by taking good care of my 'portfolio'. She SHREAD THEM ALL DOWN to as small as 1.5 mm piece! That was the END of the Akila- The revered artist.<br />
As I am writing this, I am unable to curb my mounting anger on Amma...fume...fume...fume..<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><u>Me-The Euphoric singer!</u></td></tr>
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All of a sudden I was being showered with praises from my lovable family and friends for my melodious voice<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"> (only and only when I sing)</span>! That was when I realized that <b>Music </b>was a part of my growing up. As its a custom in every Tamil Iyer family to groom their kids in the field of classical dance and music, my parents were no exception to this. I grew up monotonously singing Sa Ri Ga Ma Pa...and back then my Thatha <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">(grandpa)</span> was the only enthusiastic audience <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">(ignoring the fact that he was partially deaf...i.e. up-to 90 %).</span> I took Music seriously after I had decided to become an Architect by profession. JUST MISS! I don't wholly regret it. I am seriously thinking of studying and exploring Carnatic music once I dump my archi college.<br />
In fact my very first post in this blog is about a concert I had attended. Its funny. You will like it.ASSURED.<br />
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Smile! Say cheese! *click*. "<i>Woah! Aki ! I have never looked this good in any of my earlier photos! Babe you are truly awesome</i> \m/ "!!! <b>Photography</b> it is! I am <i>au naturel</i> at it. I am not going to talk about how good I am at it. For once let me believe in "action speaks louder than words" quote! The following are the resultant of my action! Here you GO!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><u>These are my most beautiful women in my life...both from inside and outside. </u></td></tr>
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<b>Blogging.</b> FINALLY coming to my topic! NO. Blogging din't happen to me just like that. It was a conscious effort from my side which later got modified into <i>'hey this is soooo much fun'</i> feel. These are the very reasons I created a blog.<br />
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1. <u>To improve and update my poor vocabulary:</u> I am an average at it. But I am dying to use P.G.Wodehouse-ish words in my blog! I am slow at it. But I will be there. Someday.<br />
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2. <u>To cultivate the reading habit</u>: In order to write, you need to read. Especially when you have an audience to read, you just can't afford to write crap. You need to be sensible and believe in what you write.<br />
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3. <u>Clears my confused mind</u>: Every article of mine arrives at some or the other conclusion. Be it about my <a href="http://multiplepersona.blogspot.com/2011/10/understanding-femininity.html">femininity</a> or my never ending arguments with Amma the great or my take on <a href="http://multiplepersona.blogspot.com/2010/08/so-you-think-you-can-experience-culture.html">art and culture</a>. It helps me articulate my thought and re-affirm who I am.<br />
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4. <u>Attaining self-realization</u>: I know its toooo big a word to be used on me. But my idea of self-realization isn't about discussing the greatness of Bhagawat Gita or isolating yourself from all creatures and going into a deep meditation <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">(which almost always results in an uncomfortable snoring session)</span>. When I read and re-read my posts, I analyze myself through my opinions and take on various aspects of life. I get to observe how much I have matured in a given period of time. I also get aware of all those lines in my post which makes me eat my own shoes. So learning from my very evident mistakes is possible.<br />
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5. <u>A motivating wheel</u>: Writing motivates me to immeasurable heights. I am a very slow writer as well as a reader which used to act against me before blogging. But now there is NO STOPPING ME! I am triggered to read everything happening around me. Becoming a follower of innumerable amazing and versatile blogs<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"> (I have proudly displayed them all in the right side of my blog under the caption 'They keep me on my toes')</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"> </span>has inspired me to a great extent. I also see to it I get inspired and not influenced, though the latter doesn't do much harm.<br />
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SO THAT'S ABOUT IT! I already feel closer to all the readers of this post. I bet you would be reciprocating my feelings! :)</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04378818137285877952noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8762556674882932732.post-71680681336484299422011-10-02T20:27:00.004+05:302013-08-08T15:04:40.474+05:30Understanding FEMININITY...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Yes. I am obsessed with the thought. I have been since a very long time. For me, femininity was more of a 'wanting' than a 'necessity'. Its such a beautiful way of living. <i>Grace, elegance, patience, gentleness, empathy, sensitiveness</i> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">(even</span> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Femininity">Wikipedia</a> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">agrees with a few)</span>...they are some of the many fragments that when woven together results in femininity.<br />
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But as much as I wish to be feminine, I am <i>au naturel</i> at being the very antonym of all those words listed above. Okay I am all of them in certain situations...but they all have a very short time span.<br />
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<u>GRACE</u> : I am at its pinnacle when I try my hand at dance...Mostly I keep dancing the Bharatanatyam way unconsciously unless a 'peppy' song comes my way.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"> (I ditch grace and shake my neck the 'robot' way).</span><br />
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<u>ELEGANCE</u> : Oh! You 'ought' to see me saree-clad! My hips curve in automatically, my hands stop being haphazardly thrown in air when I walk <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">(err...more of a cat walk)</span> and i hardly frown and smile generously!<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">(HONESTLY, none of them are fake...what can I say...its the saree effect!)</span> The moment I slip into my tracks,...i guess you all can guess...<br />
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<u>PATIENCE</u> : Wait! 'THIS', I am! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">(Having said this, I exclude all my day today encounters with Amma).</span> YES. I start implementing the patience virtue from 'self'. YES. I am easily the most loved person on Earth, but only 'I' know how much of an effort it takes 'at times' to loathe me! And this virtue of mine extends to my friends, acquaintances, arts etc.<br />
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<u>GENTLENESS</u> : Okay...uh....hmmm...errr....hmmm...Sigh!!!! I GIVE UP! I am sorry! Not even 1 single significant moment in my life where I have acted gentle! Oh wait! Yes...with BABIES!!!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">( I restrict them to homo sapiens and domestic animals)</span>. I am gentle when I cuddle and fondle. But who isn't???<br />
As gentleness is an optional antonym to being loud, I again do not possibly fit this tag. Its a LOUD NO NO. I am loud in all respects. Be it my 'famous' ringing laughter, the size of my mouth opening while uttering 'the most' gentle words (you see me talking and you would easily believe the 'Yashoda seeing the world in little Krishna's mouth' tale) and my arguments with people <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">(they are just loud. Not harsh).</span><br />
P.S - With mom, its <i>mandatory</i> loudness.<br />
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<u>EMPATHY</u> : Hmmm...Tricky one. I empathize seldom. But when I do, I really do. Most of the times I am better off asking people to stand up for themselves instead of saying,"Oh...I understand"..."Poor you"...."That is soooo hard for a girl" and shit like that.<br />
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<u>SENSITIVENESS</u> : Most of the times, this word is obliviously coherent with being 'fragile'. I have stopped going forward with baseless assumptions. So considering the literal sensitiveness, I do have it in me. NO. I am not talking about being sensitive to people's harsh words or to the harsh merciless sun that gives me a tan above my naturally tanned skin! I am highly sensitive to Art-all kinds.<br />
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All these observations and realizations make me wonder in what way am I feminine internally. Then I revolted against accepting the standard guidelines of being feminine. Apparently all these tags that are supposedly describing the essences exist majorly in Art. Paintings, poetry and sculptures have frozen these momentary femininity. Living by these tags every second of the day in today's extrovert world is as impossible as matching the speed of light <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">(hopefully I do not evoke the physicist in you)</span>!<br />
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I conclude stating that 'femininity' and 'masculinity' do not lie in these 'once' generally observed adjectives. Its all lies in the 'testosterone'. You can have a masculine or a feminine body. But how feminine you 'feel' lies only in the hormones. I feel very much feminine in spite of greeting the guys by slapping their back, greeting my girl friends by spanking their butt <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">(its a 9 year old habit I just cannot get rid off)</span>, lifting heavy baggage for my parents and having a gently visible mustache. Yes. I have understood<i> femininity</i> the right way.<br />
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