The Postponed Posts

Many things to share and today I set myself to write them all in short.

1. I was struggling to continue the story for sst4 and realized, story writing is not as easy as I thought when I started it. The problem is to create the problem or actually to kick the existing one. I am not feeling the strength in the plot. So, for the time being, I give up.

2. Few days back, I met my first intermediate classmate in quite an unexpected way while she was making a scene fighting with her boy friend in the middle of the road. I was shocked to see her. She became beautiful but is using the same foul language she once used to do. Unfortunately, I had have to drop her at her place that night for her father's request. So I joined both of them, the girl and her boy friend in the auto. Two are giving their own stories, occasionally abusing each other. Till that time, I was thinking that guy is a body guard, but then I understood he is not. At a point, I thought, forgetting there is no GOD, "God, Why am I chosen to hear all this in the name of love?" That painful and coincidental meeting ended at 11.00PM. Though we exchanged our numbers, I never called her again. I know, I must not.

3. "Mantra" was released for which Pradeep is one fortieth producer. Many of my colleagues and friends watched the movie but I couldn't (Ref. 5) . They say, it is good. Pradeep is happy to see his money back if not profit.

4. Sometimes, everything looks terrifically good though its not really and sometimes, when we imagine, that end of life has come, it sprouts up with beautiful things.

5. I imagine too much and hurt people for no reason. When KC was asking me about the test programs in hurry, I felt he was saying, "You, irresponsible brat, here I am, with so many issues and you. You don't even finish yours and ready for movie." He didn't say all this, he just asked me where my code base was and said he could manage this himself. I only imagined and suddenly canceled my movie plan. When KC got to know I wasn't going, he understood, it was because of him and asked me to go. But I was so stubborn and wanted to hurt him. I was psychic. I thought, he gets hurt, if I don't go. Successful venge.

6. I met my school friend Praveen, who tortured me with all the nicknames and made fun of my skin color. He has changed a lot. He is so big and still boasting of himself. Recalled our school days and classmates whom I almost forgot. I want to get back to my childhood if only I will be joined in some other school away from these Praveens and his fellows. I hate my school except for very few things.

7. Ananth had left. In the informal farewell meeting, he talked about everyone. For me, he mentioned how he took my interview and how and why I was rejected and was in again later. He mentioned about my blog and says it is a neat idea to keep a diary. I think, from now on, I should be careful while writing. Though I am not close to this person, I will miss him teasing me.

8. Lakshmi, who is new to the that place, says pointing to Glory, "She doesn't have her mother. Her mother has gone mad". Soumy and me not knowing how to stop this girl to say anything more stared at each other. But immediately Glory gave her a tight slap with a frightening roar. I was surprised for Glory can take care of herself this well at the age of 3. I think, the feeling they let us born itself is great and we are grateful for that. I missed my mother.

Zindagi migzara

Title courtesy: The Kite Runner.

23

These are the marks I got for 50 in some stupid written test for the placements. When I got to know these marks, I didn't believe and kept on asking him if he was kidding. He said he was saying all the truth and could bet on my marks. So I didn't ask him again. You may think, why the hell I do care, once I am placed. But you see, I would always know, when I am going to score the highest or flunk the exam. I knew, I would have failed for certain in ATFL, if only I didn't get in my teacher's eye. I admit, I passed that exam just because she had that good impression of me and would have given that 'A' grade. And this written test for the placement I am taking about is otherwise. I enjoyed this test and strongly felt I am going to score high or atleast next to the highest. I expected, I would lose only 4 or 5 marks. When I came to know that I got only 23 which is less than half of the maximum, I felt like puking at my false confidence levels. I was upset all the day. I better wouldn't have asked him for my marks. I am so sick and I feel more sick, when my uncles and aunts keep telling their kids to consider me as their inspiration. Why wouldn't they realize, I am not the damn best student and can get only 23 for 50 when I expect 45+.

Weekend

A nice weekend after almost an year, I went to Bhanu's hostel to bring her home. The three hours journey had given me time to think of all those sweet and sad memories. I felt good. On the return journey, we played antakshari, had fun singing all those old songs we once used to copy in the last pages of our note books and learn by heart.

And then Laasya, she looks innocently cute and I can't even think of the grudge for The Takeover and can only hang around and give her as many kisses as possible. She reminds me of my brother. He is the first person I adored and admired. I think, I am feeling those shades of love for Laasya.

On Diwali, Laasya cut the cake for her dad's birthday. After that, we all danced. It was a kind of jungle dance. Mahesh captured it all in the video. Then to crackers. Mahesh, Dad and Sandhya enjoyed. Only me and Gayatri were the spectators and enjoyed watching from the distance.

In the next morning, I thought, This is the weekend I had fun after long. But something was constantly pinching me that it is all too good to last long. I feared, there was something around the corner and was going to grab all this happiness.

And it did. It was Ammamma, as it would be on any other weekends. I don't think, she speaks like that because of her age. She was so all the time I know her. Sharp tongued by birth. Even if she acts mild, she would have some mean reason running in the background. She wants everybody to do all that she says and also in the way she instructs. It isn't her house to insult me to get out of her house as she did all the time in Repalle. I am not bound to listen to all the shit says. But I am hapless to fight back for my mom's sake. I salute her patience for being with ammama all her life. Looking at mom, I can only sigh and suppress the thought of killing her mom off on the moment.

You may think, I am thankless brute. But my ammamma is not sweet like everybody's. She is unique specially made for special ones like me :(

Pierre is falling in love with Natasha

and I with Tolstoy. Perhaps, my laziness could be the natural consequence of this. Everything looks so easy to be postponed. I do not and cannot post for some time as I very well know, how illogical and stupid, someone in love can speak or write. So I refrain from writing till this nasha goes down or atleast subsides.

The Takeover

Did you see that photo frame on the TV? That was me hugging Amma in that, which was taken on the day of my brother's marriage. Now, It is not there anymore. I wouldn't have felt bad just for that. But it is replaced. Replaced by Dad and Laasya rubbing their cheeks. In the shelf, It was Laasya with those grand mother goggles. On refrigerator, it is Laasya again pulling the Teddy. She is on the bed room teapoy. Even the desktop background is changed to Laasya's.

I am not feeling jealous, but little upset for my time is over to be the princess of the home. It reminds me of my 24 years of being everybody's apple of the eye and today's impeachment from that warmly position which I never can get back. I wonder, why I always hated when I am loved more than expected and did things to hurt others to adjust the love meter. But now, I am throwing glances which say "Little devil!" every time I see something of Laasya. I am thinking, she is the one, grabbing all the attention from my loved ones. She reminds me of my age, seems to tell me not to act childish, and it is her time to do these things. In her presence, I behaved like an old aunt. I didn't try it. It happened so.

I think, it is must to have a competitor, to realise how good it feels to be loved before it is too late. Anyways, It is not a big thing, I will start living without what I didn't care before and what I wouldn't get anymore... Another square with life!

Guru Gyaan

Long long ago, when I joined my first job(still with the same), not having much work to do, I wandered aimlessly in the web world. I was surprised to know people from other countries talking about Jiddu Krishna Murthy, about whom I heard just the name and nothing more. I ventured to research on this person as it's my habit to know about the people varying in the range from thugs to highly influential. So I read his writings on Death, Incarnation and in the last "On Love". As I went on reading, I hated myself more and more but I couldn't stop before the last word. I hated his writing and I even hated myself believing what he said to be true. Then I took a copy of it and kept it in my rack.

I forgot about it till recently , I planned to clean the waste in my cube. Read it again. Now being not prejudiced towards love, I felt it more disturbing . It is so sad that we need to go through all this trouble to feel that true love. I wanted to speak to somebody , that moment had stroked me with only one name. But I didn't talk to him as I thought he would think, that I called him to remind my birthday. I restrained for a day. When he called me up to wish , I told him all the confusions, that reading has raised in me. Thank God! He didn't laugh at me. He is my guru. how can he laugh at his student?

He told me, "Hey, You are just trapped into Krishan Murthy's Jiddu. First you go, and read love story again to come out of this status quo. It is very common and natural to feel the ownership on something you love. Let me give you an example. I loved my previous project. So whenever somebody does a check in, I will make sure they do it right and haven't disturbed anything though it is not my work. I feel it is mine." . Yes. You are right guru, even I do that with my FIPS project. I don't feel comfortable even when Sriram does a check in who actually introduced me to this project. So that means, we can feel possessive in love. and it will still be called love. Right? I am not still sure. But it is you, who assured me, so I believe like a child.

Thanks guru.

Suggestsome titile -3

6th December, 2004, 6.20AM

Sashi is reluctant and little tensed to attend to his phone call at this unusual time. It stopped ringing, when he reached to it. It was his father, who called him after a bad sleep, worrying about his innocent son and dreaming that all the girls in the world are after Sashi, trying to trap him, but he doesn’t know, for what exactly, they are after his son. Sashi calls his father back. His father, with not-so-happy voice, receives the call and inquires about the last night call. Sashi, who is not prepared to lie, mumbles for a moment and says, that was just his colleague and they were discussing about some problem. Sashi’s father, who is not so stupid to believe all he said, tells him, ‘I know what it is. Listen, I will never approve anything of this sort. But you can continue, if you don’t want to care for us.’ Sashi is shocked, but happy for he expected much more intense scene when his father gets to know about this. From then on, his father takes 1-hour brain wash session, every time Sashi goes home. With this, the super-sharp and witty Sashi, has lost his charm and is always worried with something or the other. He could only enjoy the office hours where he will not get time to think of his father or Pranathi. In the night, he will talk to his father first to make sure that he will not call again while he talks to Pranathi.

All the while, he only knows that he is not happy at all as one in love should be. He calls Pranathi, just because he thinks, he should. He feels, he is responsible to make her happy for once he felt, he loved her and confessed the same to her. He fears, backing away at this moment will make him look down at himself. He is not able to revive the excitement, he felt when he saw her for the first time.

On the contrary, Pranathi feels being love makes her stronger and happier. She thinks, love is a booster and she could do anything. It really shows on her. From the day, she found herself in love, she turned talkative and friendly with all around, though she had once been tagged reticent and closemouthed. She is doing everything with so much ease and at times, she is self-surprised. Her friends suspect that it is not Pranathi but someone else. Every day, she wakes up with a good feeling of being better than yesterday. Specially, when she found herself mistaken for the presumptions she made about her own parents. She thought, they were dogmatic and unfriendly and don’t even allow her to make her own hair style, for which she is so fascinated. But recently with her freedom and choice retained to herself, she understands that they aren’t any orthodox kind, but just had been parents with usual protective nature with teenagers.

She thanks Sashi, because of whom, she gets to know how beautiful life is. She decides never to hurt him not just because she is in love with him, but for some special feeling which she would have, even if she isn't in love with him.

Author's note: Chaitanya and Nashi, both of you wrote very well. I don't want to keep your comments in the back page, I will use them soon in this story (as is) with your courtesy. Santhi, I am happy and lil' shy to know that you do read my posts.

Suggestsome titile -2

5th December, 2004, Bangalore.

Sashi is not able to concentrate on his work after two days of leave. He did not get a minute for himself as he is unconsciously thinking of Pranathi all the time. All things like brushing, bathing are done with his mind absent. He is getting more and more tensed everyday as Pranathi’s parents are trying to get her married and even in Sashi’s house, there is very least possibility, he could confess about his love and ask them for help. His father even suspected Sashi when he had gone home last time for he was always stuck to his mobile and really spent very very less time with his parents.

He is worried for he has to act fast. Otherwise he may have to pay the price of forgetting his beloved and marry someone his parents will decide. The thought of getting apart from Pranathi brought tears into his eyes. He thought, he is not supposed to weep as he was told all the time that girls will only do wet their cheeks. He wanted to go back to everybody who told him so and give that glare which his father would give him every time he lies. He starts thinking profoundly about equality for rights of emotion. After spending considerable time, he laughs at himself and again he is down.

When he gets back to his room from Office, he is on phone with his sweetheart talking about nice weather in the city and she explaining about those black-white-yellowish birds in the garden. She says that she is afraid of those birds, though they look very beautiful because she suspects that these birds listen to everything she talks with him and one day they would blackmail her for a high ransom and would unfold all her secrets to her father,if she can’t pay them well. Sashi laughs listening to her story, not knowing that his father has been trying to call him from half-an-hour without a pause.

Author's Note: I am not any psycho but want to make this story as complex as possible and get them out of troubles when it will be expected to be impossible. Experienced and imaginary ideas of love problems are welcome.

Wall

Sneaked out of my routine work which is somebody's important work. I am here again to blabber. This time it is about my wall of resistance against change of opinions, which poses to be strong but keeps falling under circumstances.

When I read R.K.Narayan, I thought he is the best and no one else can be better. I was with this assumption till I read Wodehouse and I thought 'I was wrong for the first time but will not be so again. Wodehouse is better than the best'. I made it clear to myself that Plum is my fav.

When snort told me to read Tolstoy, I said -- 'I will read. but I am sure he will not be better than Plum'. Snort lent me his book(War and Peace). I opened it with strong determination not to fall into Tolstoy's spell and I read few chapters as I would read something not of my sort. Everything looked chaos. I thought he is someone who gets pleasure of showing females either too innocent, stupid and religious or too shrewd and sly or always complaining. When I moved onto the later chapters, I don't know exactly when., but caught myself growing fond of this maestro. Evidently, the wall of resistance cracked again and needs some repair, which I would do reading more of Tolstoy.

Each time my wall cracks, it is not that my previous favourite is not favourite anymore. It is just an inclusion of new one. While R.K.Narayan smiles and pats me up for tragedies of my life saying "It happens..", Wodehouse tickles me off to laugh at my own follies and Tolstoy keeps me close to reality with his quips, when I get quixotic to achieve perfection.

Suggestsome title

Preface:
This seems to be a love story with usual filmy troubles with parents. It happens when somebody never in love starts writing love stories. Anyways, it is a good thing, we can certainly give it a happy ending making the characters of Pranathi and Sashi little bold and smart. Are you guys ready?

December 3rd, 2004. Hyderabad.

Pranathi wakes up like a spring and sits on the bed with her knees folded. It is just the alarm sound and she feels a time bomb is going to blast, whenever she hears that. It is 8:30 in the morning. She starts rubbing her eyes. She opens her eyes to find Surya sitting with her. She smiles at him, to get a smile in reply. Surya gives her a chocolate and says "Happy Birthday Akka". She is overjoyed with his brotherly love. She kisses him on his forehead and Surya runs out of her room. She feels the urge to call Sashi, Starts searching for her mobile mumbling 'poor Sashi, papam. He does not know my parents. He does not know it is impossible to have cake cutting at midnight. Was I rude at him?’ She rewinds the conversation she had at 0 hrs on her birthday. She finds her mobile under the pillow. She checks the list of received calls. ‘One hour twenty minutes!! Papam how many people might have tried calling!! Sashi is very caring and now it is Surya.’ She is about to press the call button, but stops as she hears her mom calling. She replies ’Coming amma..’ Then she runs into the hall, deleting the last entry in the received calls.

‘Happy Birthday ra, Chinni’ her dad wishes peeping his head out of newspaper. And he is sunk again into the newspaper. She walks into the kitchen where her mom stood cooking something, and asks ’Entamma?’. They exchange smiles filled with loads of affection. Her mother gives a polythene cover caressing Pranathi’s hair. Pranathi is all smiles seeing the new iPod pack in that cover. She looks into her mom’s eyes and thanks without saying a word. ’We both shared the price from our salaries. You got some courier, it is there on the TV'. Pranathi walks half the distance looking at her mom. When she reaches the TV, she finds a gift pack rolled in pearl white paper and decorated with red satin ribbon, having no note on it. She takes that into her room and closes the door behind her. She opens the pack to find 21 similar looking blood red roses, neatly tied and kept in white satin cloth with a note, which says, ‘Many Many Happy Returns of the day, Jaan.’ She smiles as tears rolled over her cheeks and settled on a lucky rose.

Chori mein bhi hain mazaa!

Hot news! I had stolen something precious, atleast for few of you. I didn't remember, how and when I did it. I saw it again yesterday when I was re-reading my old mails.

It was the most awaited post of Yasaswi which is not yet finished and so not published. I pestered him to show me the post when he was working on it. He showed me the unfinished post. I didn't know, how I got the chance to pinch it. But now, I see this as a mail attachment. Now the problem is, do you think, it is OK if I post it here as it is? I feel proud to have something written by him in my blog like his comments. I have already decided to continue the story and post it here soon. Otherwise I will post the original here, then we all can continue it in our own style to be co-authored. What do you say? Does anybody(Nash, Soumy and Rakesh) here to offend this idea? Tell me. I will not post if it is not OK for you.

My best teacher

If I am something today, you are the reason.

You taught me the magic of numbers and
fun in geometry, when I had given up hopes on myself.

You taught me about question tags and story writing
when I used to sit tongue tied in my English class.

You hugged me and lifted me up even when I wasn't so good,
when all others used to batter me for the best.

I know, I can never pay you back for all that you did.
I suppose, Teachers are made to keep their pupil in debt.

Born out of evening talk

Yes, I decided(almost) not to marry but it doesn't infer that I'm going to be a nun and serve the society or the country.

Though I have the sense to spread smiles on the faces deserved, I admit that, it may not be going to be with the same enthusiasm when I'll be 40 years old. But I will do the best I can, as it is not something I learnt in a day or two. I was not a rich city kid and so I knew the pleasure in making others happy and I also remember, how some people made me happy. I didn't care when somebody doubts my sustainability (as it is used by the person. I haven't got any other word with such an exact meaning). Later, I thought why should I be sustainable when it is the wave to be passed on to the younger generations. With this, I don't mean that I have a reason to quit, but if I am too weak to hold it, I will have no other option.

I wish, the people who will be ready with a pail of water, to pour on the plans laid by small brains(as they suppose) will get out of their lay-back attitude and the people who think, it cannot make a difference, will see the difference.

PS: It is certainly not to influence anybody.

Blind date

She is all agog about her first blind date. 10 minutes more for the time of the tryst, she will be meeting the person she heard so much about from their common friend. She is not a bit of frightened about this meeting as she is very confident of her guardian angels and they will take care of her.

10 minutes to go! she is strolling to the corner of the road for a bouquet of flowers and while she is taking turn a school boy with open lunch box, hit her and the boy's favorite gazpacho spilled over her favorite blue dress. She is disappointed and the boy is very very disappointed. This boy started weeping for his spilt gazpacho.

Her "about_to_slap" mood is magically changed to "it_is_ok_boy" and to even "let_me_buy_you_gazpacho" by seeing those rich looking flowers in the kiosk named 'Flower Showers" and in small case "specialty of Kew garden flowers". She took out the tissues from her world_in_a_pouch kind of bag and cleaned her dress. She convinced herself that her date-mate will not give up just because she had gazpacho smears on her dress. She bought a bouquet of red roses and gazpacho for the boy from the shop next door. The boy thanked her and started eating it.

Then entered a beastly man, looking like a simian hurry in hunting , jostled through them, her(or is it she?) and the boy. This time the boy is careful enough not to spill his gazpacho or whatever grass he is eating. This simian looking man is asking the boys in the shop in his baritone for a bouquet of lilies in whatever color one can see. She muttered.. "Roadside Rogues..Don't even know, to say sorry." She looked at her watch and recognized that she is already late by 4 minutes 36 seconds. She quickly took leave from the boy and rushed to the restaurant where they have to meet.

She took a table not completely in the corner but the one, near the window. Every thing around her looked exceptionally beautiful and she is in the air passing her tensest moments. She took out a small scribble pad and started writing out her feelings so that she will not forget the minute details of her first date which can make a comparatively good poem and can increase the opus number of her poetry, to which her father promised to publish as a book sometime soon. Moreover, she can read it out if they are engaged to get married. This is her prime motive. She wrote..

Tensed as deuce, waiting for you.
Are you on the way, thinking of me?
Or did you stop at the door to find me out?

and she raised her head if the third line is true by chance. By the same chance, there is this simian looking man, at the door waiting for the nod of his blind date and join her. He is coming towards her and he came. He introduced himself as Mr. A and asked her if she is Miss A. She started sweating with horripilation and managed to say that she is not Miss A and she is Miss B waiting for Mr B. He moved away to the next table apologizing her.

Everything that looked exceptionally beautiful a minute ago, now seemed to be shattered and windows closed and letters on her scribble pad floated away. she felt the fug weather in place of cool breeze. She impatiently looked at her watch for 3 or 4 times as if she was waiting there from 2 hours and absconded the place.

Now, blaming her guardian angels if there is any fifth column in them, trying to link her life with simians and beasts, she turned the corner, there, sat this gazpacho boy and she gave the bouquet to that boy thinking that this wouldn't help her to cheer her shattered spirits. The boy thanked her again and she walked away thinking this is a common failure in everybody's salad days.

When she turned back recognizing a familiar voice, the simian looking man is saying to the gazpacho boy "I am sorry. My boy., I couldn't find your mom, who can cook you gazpachos everyday! Let's go!" and the boy replied "Don't worry dad! I found someone, who is kind enough to buy me gazpachos. There she is! She gave me these flowers too. Try if you can click your luck." When he is about to look into the direction his son showed, she turned away and is walking briskly so that he won't stop her to click his luck.

When I have to tie up with aliens..

No. I'm not talking about the arranged marriage.

It's about the project, I am unexpectedly involved in. I am happy as I aspire, this project would accomplish my responsibilities in a better way. But, the problem is more than half my mates are new and half the rest are the people, whom I can't tag with "I like" or "I don't like". There is only one person I am comfortable with, which is of no use because of the policies being Clarity, Mutual Trust, Confidentiality and Respect for all. So I cannot grouch about my fears. I just have to get along with all 'I like's, 'I don't like's and even with the third kind for a good cause.

Responsibility, Platform, Selfish, Change, Learn and few more (which I forgot already. This is the problem being humans. We forget so easy.) These are the driving forces which brought us into the team.

For you, it would have been little cryptic, but will not be for long, as we, the team decided to keep it confidential till the first milestone. I wish all the success to the team.

Raksha

Mein aapki raksha karoongi.
Aur aap meri raksha keejiye.
Hum sab milke,
Iss duniya ki raksha karenge.

Pray to allay the grief of dear ones, of 25th August, 2007 bomb blast(s) victims.

Reforming

The more I try to understand myself, the more complicated and uglier I look.

I hate to act as if I am quite confident and know what I am, when I am not. I hate to talk as if i have thought of every subject and formed my opinions long before, even when it is the first time i thought of. But why do I do that? Is it that I wanted to be on high in their minds? Or do I fear that I loose my charm if i have any? It is irritatingly pity to be uncertain of oneself.

When I see, some rare people of the mob around, I am awed with their simplicity and my self hatred erupts in humiliation. How could they be so honest with others when I am not able to be like that with myself in certain matters? What a stupid and nonentity am I, among those very simple and very ordinary people!

Let me read you and learn a bit.

Freedom to the self

Wasting time is not good this way. I still feel the heat of the discussions and couldn't be there a moment more (my boiling point is very low.) , as it is taking too many branches and is full of imaginative schedule for the future donations to the orphanages and better treatment of the serving maids and their kids and what not. Let me raise my voice before this heat goes off.

The people who don't know how to look straight at the point and make 100 interpretations of what their boss speaks, are here to talk about the Child Labour. The people who spend half the day gossiping around, are here to give suggestions to improve the society. And the people who don't know how to respect their parents, are here to join their hands with illusion.

Enough is enough! If you want to waste your time, waste it as if you are really wasting. So that next time, when you start working, you will be reminded of the time you wasted and probe you more to concentrate on the work. This type of inspirational talk will just let you to feel good about yourself for the time being, that you can also think like a human which you are in doubt, every time you see a failure of the nation(as Raj quotes).

Let's give an end to this sentimental drama. Get real and get life. Think before you act and do act if you are in sync with your conscience. Let's give freedom to ourselves from the curbs of the society specially from the people who try to carry us away with inspirations and people who try to teach us the essence of life. Let's be strong and stick to the tune.

Jiyo apni zindagi, jo kisi pe bhoj na ho,
Jiyo apni style se, jisse kisi ko takleef na ho.

No. Please.. I can't

Anita asks me to take part in the skit, which is planned to initiate the fellow members to recognise the exaltation of independence. She doesn't know my problem. Probably you also don't know. I can do multiprocessing with exception of "stand" and "speak" processes at once. I told her the same. She says that the character will not stand but comfortably sits.

Why doesn't she understand? The problem is not to stand or to sit. Stand process, I meant is facing the gang which includes some, I never spoke to and when all are eager to entertain themselves, while i make fool of myself. I told her my decision that i will not take part in the skit. I know, she is hurt and probably thought, i have shown the attitude by turning down the request. I hope, she'll understand it has got nothing to do with attitude and it is my lameness that laid me back.

I remember my dreadful presentations in the past. I feel relaxed now, as they are over. Hopefully I would never have to do it again. I swear, I couldn't feel at ease with at least one even while the count kept increasing.

Sometimes, I try to make the bold appearance but the speaker inside me wobbles. May be the chemical that makes you orate is less in my Blood? That could be the thing which made me comfortable with my job where I don't have to do the sing and dance work (reporting) and this will be done by TL on my behalf.

Shock- 2

Though it's not more shocking than the Shock-1, which i missed to post here, it left me in a position to decide whether to enjoy the moment and be happy or to feel guilty for supporting a couple, who are going to give a life-time shock to their loving parents.

Nashi says she is happy, but I'm not sure if I'm as much happy as she is. I genuinely feel, it is being done in the wrong way. I'm not against love marriages and i never could be. For known/unknown reasons, i am not in consent with their ideas and not able to enjoy the sigh of relief when much anticipated marriage is over.

Whatever, Kicking out my ideology, I wish them a happy married life and not to get into any complications i am presuming.

Preponed friendship day

You pat me often and
wake me up from the reveries.

You care to listen
even when you get bored to death
to my palling stories of the past.

You prattle as much as me and
ready to play the silly games all night

Yet! Only you and me do know,
there is something unspoken
which will be cherished all the time.

Thank you, Friends.

Sigh no More

My moody mood, in its low, was not letting me to work any more for today. I, on self-help mission, was browsing afloat through this nice link sent by my colleague (SNORT, of course, he doesn't snort!). I liked this poem in all and I would love to copy it for you. I never knew before that Shakespeare did write something in a language, i could understand.

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,

Men were deceivers ever;

One foot in sea, and one on shore,

To one thing constant never.

Then sigh not so,

But let them go,

And be you blith and bonny,

Converting all your sounds of woe

Into Hey nonny, nonny.

Sing no more ditties, sing no mo

Of dumps so dull and heavy;

The fraud of men was ever so,

Since summer first was leavy.

Then sigh not so,

But let them go,

And be you blith and bonny,

Converting all your sounds of woe

Into Hey nonny, nonny.

-- by William Shakespeare

PS: I don't have anything against MEN. So Men, you can change it however you like and read with gusto.

On revamp

Dear ones,

Excuse me, for i made you wait for almost 8 months Or otherwise, are you people happy for the escapades from this boring stuff? Whatever! You can't escape anymore. For now, don't ask me why i hid myself this long. Tall story!

I consider this ancient blog of mine as significant as everybody's first love. I might have written very stupid things and very stupidly. I just love that stupidity, as it is the one where i got the pleasure of expressing and struggled many times to show my vocab. a bit strong and sexy. I certainly felt longing for the inexplicable pleasure of blogging. The reason to be kateef with my blog doesn't seem reasonable. May be i just wanted to write, and the reason looked ridicule.

Today i take oath. "For whatever happens, I will write on." If you don't find at least one post a month, check in obituary column of any local news paper.

So you can waste your time whenever you feel like. Cheers.