tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44771019475900948372024-02-19T15:27:54.545+05:30A Simple EquationA Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-20638606382088066962011-05-16T23:42:00.001+05:302011-05-16T23:42:10.753+05:30Why I stopped running to settle down with a time bomb<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div>A bomb blast, a tight slap just below your ears, a hit on the head, the feeling just before you hit the ground after having a blackout......</div><div><br />
</div><div>Varied situations, yet there is a correlation in all the chaos....</div><div><br />
</div>Noise...that peculiar noise...the one that defy's your literal sense of what is real and what is not...it is this noise that connects the missing dots, the bridge that sorts the randomness...<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>Its sharp, its deafening, its chilling, and its never ending...it manages to shake the inner soul in that small "spatio-temporal" world in which it exists...That noise - Sheer mystique !</div><div><br />
</div><div>I am experiencing that noise more and more with each passing day, and it comes with its own share of add-ons..</div><div><br />
</div><div>Life's become celluloid....life's become melodramatic...well at least thats what i have convinced myself to believe...</div><div><br />
</div><div>I am standing in the center of the frame..everything around me moving, changing, evolving...with me poised in full balance..ready to take the next few steps, and just when i am about to keep my foot down, the noise hits me hard....yet again...</div><div><br />
</div><div>Have I been dreaming or have i finally woken up...</div><div><br />
</div><div>Hey wait! this time its different,...the noise is failing....its almost dead...</div><div><br />
</div><div>Its dead silent again...its pitch dark...did i hear something or was it me just breathing?</div><div><br />
</div><div>And from the corner of my eyes i see the rays...a silhouette in the far distant...</div><div><br />
</div><div>It catches me off-guard when it hits me..and it hits me hard...</div><div><br />
</div><div>There is noise again...the noise generated from the tides of change that hit my soul..</div><div><br />
</div><div>This feels good...there is a certain rhythm in this time bomb...</div><div><br />
</div><div>There is order in this randomness..a purpose even in its destruction...</div><div><br />
</div><div>And so i wait...waiting to get swallowed in the tides of change...</div></div>A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-34015804764897818542011-03-23T23:50:00.001+05:302011-03-23T23:51:01.821+05:30aRbIt<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">LoVe, LiKe, LiFe, LiEs, All FiCtIoN aNd FoRgOTtEn, BeTwEeN yOuR ThIgHs !!!</span></div>A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-48344755242552497372011-02-22T01:33:00.003+05:302011-02-22T10:18:33.936+05:301:28 AM<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Life's so fucking unpredictable..and time's the one having the boner..you run, you gasp, you struggle, and you wish you could escape..yes. you wish !!<br />
<br />
Wishful thinking...it makes one believe that even stars are reachable, if one stretches one's hands...wishful !!<br />
<br />
Minutes..maybe hours..and then you crash land and realize that things have changed so much....and yet so little...and yet so much...<br />
<br />
Your definition of reality finds itself on the wrong track on a freeway..facing the oncoming traffic..and with each vehicle that passes, the definition of reality finds itself in a position that barely manages to hold true..<br />
<br />
There's nothing true in this stupid existence..no real purpose..no real friend...no real love..<br />
<br />
everything is as real as you want it to be..its good, its bad, (its horny if you want it to be..)<br />
<br />
Lies - thats what we feed ourselves...the quintessential fuel to our souls....the answer to our problems..the joys to equate the sorrows...<br />
<br />
and yet, each day, we continue to make ourselves believe that we have been brought into this world for a bigger plan, for a greater end.....<br />
<br />
BULLSHIT !!!<br />
<br />
We are what we feed our minds, we are what are thoughts are...we are the mood swings of people around us..<br />
<br />
we are their insecurities, we are their fears, we are their happiness, we are just a moment..<br />
<br />
we are as deep as these lines and as confused and perplexed as the minds that read these lines..<br />
<br />
we are nothing, yet we are everything...a fact one day, a muse the other, and a picture on a photo album in a few days..<br />
<br />
Yes, we are the captions, and the so called memories, we are the stupid talks in the pub, and we are the disease that everyone wants to kick.....<br />
<br />
Arbit, complicated, utterly confused..we are nothing but a topic for discussion..and we are the one's who discuss....<br />
<br />
each day we are different, and yet each day we still are the same.....apparently better than all and worse than none...<br />
<br />
We are everything that we never wanted to be...!! Thats what we are....</div>A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-15811640753902127462010-11-17T19:36:00.000+05:302010-11-17T19:36:24.712+05:3017 Nov 2010In the midst of all the commotion, the crowd, and celebrations...<div>....</div><div>...</div><div>dragged by external forces and the bright lights, </div><div>....</div><div>....</div><div>where was I???</div>A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-2588667948908438092010-08-09T14:03:00.005+05:302010-08-09T14:03:51.124+05:30More than words<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">It’s more than just words; it’s more than these lines;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">It’s more than the meaning that you build in your mind;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">A random collection of feelings you think that I hold;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Baby, this ain’t so simple, now tell me, am I being uncanny?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">So get out of my line, get out of my sight;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I don’t think you wanna greet these crooked thoughts in my mind;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">How can you listen to what I have to say?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Can you hear the song that I wish to play?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Maybe you can see what my face has to say;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">You ain’t any blind, but baby;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I know you are blind;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Your mind is demented; your thoughts look like you;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Maybe that’s the reason why I fell in love with you;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">So, break open your world bitch; come out of your lies;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">And grant me a favor; I know you are not the type;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Sweetheart! It’s not worth my pain; it’s not worth your time;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">The wall has been broken; and the music has changed,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">The piper has left; and the curtains are down;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">You still standing there in the corner,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">With that look in your eyes ….Encore?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">It’s not that I am scared of cutting open my heart,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">It’s not the blood; my soul feels no pain;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Just a lil scared of what will happen to what lies inside;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">If only the rhythm in the heart could be expressed;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">The notes, the lines, yeah! And my stupid voice;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">For you to know, lo and behold;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">There is life beyond those walls;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">So get out of my line, get out of my sight;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">This is no longer your dream; I am thinking now; is this dream even mine?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">And when we’ll cross, somewhere in time;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I’ll sing the song, and I will read those lines,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Maybe tomorrow will be a different day,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">But right now, Baby, I am heading the other way!!</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-47778312065363951422010-04-26T17:04:00.000+05:302010-04-26T17:04:11.510+05:30The end of Heartache<div>Tears, prayers, love, songs....few of the things i can do without....</div><div><br />
</div><div>Hurt, lost, sad, mad...few of the things that define my heart...</div><div><br />
</div><div>Eyes, hair, smell and voice...few of the things that make up your memories..</div><div><br />
</div><div>Words, action, drama, promises... few of the things that still need some thoughts..</div><div><br />
</div><div>There is no second...this is the end of my heartache...</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div>A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-20999040058267535172010-03-29T19:29:00.002+05:302010-03-29T19:29:46.641+05:30Status Message: Courtesy: Anirudh Mani<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">She intrigues me.and scares me.interests me.but humours me too.to some extent,even fascinates me.i liked her once.i still do,but only as a charming wayfarer,taught me a valuable lesson once.tempting,though, she was.only for me to realise that there is an oddity to an ideal, perfect fit.we are meant to be flawed,so is our resonance and kinship.are her vested interests robed in acts of geniality?is she the protagonist while i'm just a side character?is it all an act of which i'm just a 30-second ad break?<o:p></o:p></span></div>A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-8684899994826533032010-03-22T15:34:00.003+05:302010-03-22T15:41:25.165+05:30Flying without wings<b><i>Disclaimer: This is my version of "Flight of Icarus"</i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
<i>Seeing the world from those little eyes,</i><br />
<i>of things to follow, of things desired;</i><br />
<i>dreams so big, dreams so high,</i><br />
<i>dreams that make you wanna cry in joy;</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Eyes so small, eyes so wide,</i><br />
<i>a crystal ball or a shimmering light;</i><br />
<i>of fortune and fame, and making a name,</i><br />
<i>walking the path and learning the game;</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Glittering gold and shining silver,</i><br />
<i>rays of hope, maybe rays of fire;</i><br />
<i>to make or break, and how to fake,</i><br />
<i>thinking too loud of things at stake;</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Dreams so vivid, dreams so bright;</i><br />
<i>of things to follow, of things desired;</i><br />
<i>dreams so dark, and dreams so deep,</i><br />
<i>dreams that make you wanna cry in pain;</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>To lose and find and lose again,</i><br />
<i>time flies by and things have changed;</i><br />
<i>A broken heart, a broken soul,</i><br />
<i>a piece of paper, whiskey galore;</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Chains of love, and chains of rage;</i><br />
<i>to pull her back, and make her stay;</i><br />
<i>of strings attached, those chains so strong;</i><br />
<i>to tie the wings and hold her down;</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Eyes so small, eyes so wide,</i><br />
<i>chains so weak, to hold her stride;</i><br />
<i>She spreads her arms, no strength no vigor,</i><br />
<i>and stares for a moment, wishing it would last forever;</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Dreams so cold and dreams so strange,</i><br />
<i>of things gone by and of things that have changed;</i><br />
<i>a tear, a moment, a smile, and a sigh,</i><br />
<i>today she flies in the sky so high !!</i>A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-45220734626293854142010-02-03T18:24:00.004+05:302011-01-23T22:58:04.355+05:30A “Lost and Frustrated Inc.” production<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">“<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A trip to Chennai “is a tale of two poor souls (me and Ashish Jogi) that may go on to become a full fledged movie in the near future. So keep your eyes and ears wide open for you may see posters and hear a sweet voice on the radio or television announce “This summer, coming soon to a theatre near you, a twisted tale of two guys and their ordeals in the city of Chennai. “ Book your tickets today!!</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Scene 1: A horribly scanned image of an examination form put up on the notice board of “Mumbai Patent office” is getting circulated on the internet. Mr. Jogi sees a perfect opportunity to put to practice the humongous amount of knowledge he has gained while working in the Intellectual Property domain. A sense of pride already feeling inside him, he forwards the examination form to me.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Scene 2: As I post the demand draft, I say to myself…lets crack this one. A halo has appeared over me by now. I feel this strange sensation running in me. Initially I presumed it was a burst of gas in my stomach. However, the force was much lower than the bile juices create in my stomach. I knew I had a herculean task at my hand. I have always loved challenges. Be it squeezing the entire tooth paste in less than 15 seconds in my mouth or filling the tube again with the paste. (Of course this one doesn’t come with a timeline). </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Scene 3: Like two brothers who have been separated at birth and go on to become enemies, there is a showdown between Jogi and me. Unspoken words are heard and looks that could make a small boy pee in his pants are exchanged. The electricity in the air is so high that Jogi receives the first shock. - FLU!! I can sense a conspiracy in the sickness. Maybe, just maybe he wanted to take a day off and really study. I felt sick in my stomach. My head started hurting and I could count birds and stars and cigarette butts around my head. I felt nauseated. I felt that I had been outsmarted. Totally Outplayed!! Beaten without even getting a chance to play my first shot or get my feet touch the ball. I decided that I had to do something and do it quick. I decided to take the next day off from work.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Scene 4: My cousin gave me a surprise. This was not helping. I could not study for more than 4 hours. A law book that needed at least one week of dedicated attention and study got just 4 hours from my side. I said to myself “Think quickly or be dead”. There was no turning back.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Scene 5: I concentrated hard and reinforced the halo over myself. I could not mess this up. I could hear the soundtrack from “The good, the bad and the Ugly” as I saw Jogi coming towards me. He had a wicked smile on his face. Aah !! I thought!! One word from him about his preparation and I was going to fall. Helplessly I waited..I felt heavy..and the extra flabs and tires that have appeared on my body were not helping. I rest my head on the Guillotine..waiting for him to come and hand me the final blow..</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Scene 6: 10 PM. Bangalore Bus Stand and we both were concentrating hard on the bible “The Indian Patent act and Rules – Amended 2005”. I had escaped the execution. He had not studied and I realized that we both were sailing in the same pool of shit. The flash light from Nokia 1100 and the electric bulbs of 40 W located at ever 100 mts in the bus stand were our only hope now. Like osmosis, we exchanged the little bit of knowledge we had gained from the book and from our experience in working in this domain. I could see a halo hovering over his head. The Brothers had reunited. A single moment passed by and the entire world around them was stuck. The lady boarding the bus, the street dog, the hawker selling samosas and chaat, the exhaust from the bus…everyting was frozen. Dead !! They realized how stupid they had been till now. They had to save their “ijjat” now and fight the evil around them. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Scene 7: The bharat-Ram milap did not last for long. The man at the inquiry counter shouted “10.30 PM bus to Chennai on platform number 69.” They lifted their bags and started walking towards the bus. With dreams in their eyes, they showed the ticket to the conductor. (Sound of glass breaking somewhere in my head). This ticket is for 22</span></span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">nd</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Jan and not 23</span></span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">rd</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Jan. You should have come here yesterday..said the conductor in a mocking tone. I looked at Jogi ! My eyes almost burnt him. He was completely tanned by my anger.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Scene 8: After doing a lot of “JUGAAD” we had managed to catch a bus at 1 AM to Chennai. My brain was playing the advertisement for MasterCard time and again…Day off from the office – RS 2000, E-Ticket Booking – Rs 750, Rick to Bus Stand – RS 100, Dinner – Rs 200, booking the ticket for the wrong day – Priceless !!</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Scene 9: Macha !! wake up macha !! wake up macha !! “The guy from next seat” was shouting. We were so drunk that we didn’t even realize that the entire bus was empty and that we had reached Chennai. Jogi called up his friend and gave him the glad news that the warriors had arrived. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Scene 10: “Baby Nagar”, near Velachary Main Road (yes thats the name of a place - Baby Nagar!!)– I asked the auto driver. Yes sir, Rs 150. What? Was the reply that came from my mouth. Yes, that is my usual reaction when I find something that is too unbelievable. I often say “What” when I look at myself in the mirror !! (Naah !! Naah !! don’t think that I adore myself!! – So keep your comments to yourself.) “100” was the reply that Jogi gave. After a lot of debate, the war ended with Rs 120 “slaughtered” from our pockets.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Scene 11: We reach the place where we are supposed to stay. We enter the house…only to find ourselves stunned!!! AThe scene freezes...Heavy music playing in the background… scene starts rolling again...There was breakfast ready and waiting for us…my stomach started making weird noise…Just as I was about to eat my first bite..a little girl around 2 years old, came out from the other room…rubbing her sleepy eyes..She showed me what she had written in her slate board...It said – I.N.T.E.R.V.A.L</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Please proceed and get your popcorn and coke and people who want to take a leak may go and do so…We shall return soon….</span></span></span></span></div>A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-87296482135381060282009-11-24T18:29:00.001+05:302009-11-24T18:34:58.562+05:30ATTJ – 2009 – Part 1<p class="MsoNormal">Round about this time, last year, I had written about my travelling experience to Jabalpur (<a href="http://asimpleequation.blogspot.com/2008/11/atj.html">ATTJ</a>).</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The reason for my trip to Jabalpur last year was Saumil’s engagement . The reason this time was Marriage. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Time flies by faster when you want things to slow down a little.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Everything<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>seems to be on the fast track.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Everything except the train I boarded to reach Jabalpur.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I personally feel that the Indian railways should rename the train from Sanghamitra express to BharatDarshan Passenger.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">9 AM – Thursday Morning .<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A Marwadi, a Jain, a Kannadiga and 4 Biharis. Well who could ask for more.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>That reminds me about the new Murphy’s law.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>All beautiful girls (can be read as just girls also) will always be seated everywhere except where I am seated (boogie, compartment, blah blah) in a train.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I was dead tired from my last day’s work and had to catch up on a LOT of sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Maybe I should bond with the fellow passengers later, I thought.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And hoping that dreams would surely treat me better than real life, I slowly relaxed myself.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">4 PM – WTH !!! “Bangalore se Patna jane wali, 2295 Sanghamitra express thodi he der mein platform number 7 se ravana hone ke liye taiyar hai” (for those who are wondering why my Hindi Sucks – It’s just a n exact repeat of what I heard). Rubbing my eyes, I get down on the platform and receive my first shock.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">CHENNAI !!! Yes the holy, mother of all, suckmitra express was in Chennai !! Yes, from Bangalore to Patna via Chennai !!!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I spent half the day in a train only to reach Chennai !!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>With a depressed sigh, I ate my lunch.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The Marwari guy was the first to break the ice.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">With a stupid and irritating smile on his face he asked<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>me “Kya karte hai aap?” – I wanted to avoid him, and thought of coming up with something fancy like “baap ke paas bahut paisa hai, isliye bas bharat dekhne nikal pada, ya chori karta tha, abhi abhi jail se choot kar aa raha hun!! </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Engineer aur pseudo lawyer hun !! – came the reply.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Engineer aur lawyer, kaafi padai ki hai, to shaadi ho gayi aapki? He asked !!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“kyun aapki beti ko koi rishta nahi mil raha kya? Was what I wanted to say, but by now his stupid smile was not that irritating after all… so I said, haan, 2 bacche bhi hain !!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Kya baat hai !! kaafi young dikhte hai aap !! he said..</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Realizing that this wasn’t going to really help, all I said “Thank you” hoping that this would be the last of this conversation.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Aapki biwi aur bache nahi aaye !! he said.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“aah !! this guy won’t give up, I thought” nahi who…and I picked my phone pretending that someone was calling me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The next stop was Vijaywada .<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I called up home !! they were expecting that I must have crossed daund, and would be another 6 to 7 hours from Nagpur !!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Mom was as usual comforting and told me to relax when I told her the story. The train was already running 2 hours late (something to do with trains that start or end in UP or Bihar)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">In order to avoid any more silly conversations, I opened the new book, 2 States by ChetanBhagat and started reading it. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Kuch khayenge aap? Meri biwi ne ghar se kaafi kuch bheja hai khaane ke liye – said the marwadi guy.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Ji Nahi, shukriya – I said.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">A lot of more interesting things happened when the biharis and the Jain guy also got involved.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>(but I shall leave that part for another entry). (the kannadiga couldn’t really figure out that I was also a<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>kanadiga !! thanks to my hindi, the long kurta and the kada in my hand.)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Next day, and by 10 AM, 2 States was over.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I wonder why he is a bestseller in India. Anyways, that itself is a completely different topic and we shall rest the 2 states case here itself.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The train had crossed Nagpur, and I was feeling hungry !! My stomach had slowly started making weird and funny noises !!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Aap kuch khate ya peete nahi hai kya, the marwadi guy said.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Oh no, not again!!!- <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I thought !!,</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Yeh lejiye, try kariye, bahut badiya hai !! I was too tired to fight back. Besides, the food wasn’t that bad. Infact his wife was a pretty good cook !!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">By 12, the Jain and the Marwari had bonded really well.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s amazing how totally random and strange people in India can unite over so many matters. In politics, from Lalu Prasad, statue’s of Mayawati <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>to Loss of BJP in the recent elections, to religion, detest for Islam, and the spoilt youth of today, the mini skirts, the tight pants, and the live-in relationships.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I found myself being dragged in every conversation. I was getting tired, so started reading catch 22.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>What an irong I thought !! </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Itarsi at 4 PM and Jabalpur at 6.45.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In between, there were many a fights between the Ticket checker and the passengers. I kind of felt bad for the TT.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He was a tam, and the passengers who were arguing with him were biharis, bhopali’s and allahabadi’s. Neither party could understand what the other party was saying.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In the end, the general class ticket holders managed to stay put in the reservation compartment.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>By the time, Jabalpur came; a single berth was occupied by around 5 to 6 people.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">What’s the point of even getting a reservation done ? I thought !!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The journey had been tiring – physically and mentally !!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I prayed <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>for better things to follow !!!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">They did, and they did in the most amazing manner.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>If I could rewind the entire journey, I would probably, tag that image of mine when I got down from the train and stepped outside the station – The prey !!!</p>A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-2299694479387060442009-07-16T20:16:00.005+05:302009-07-16T20:27:45.117+05:30Don't know where to go ?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsMf4BaXG2G9II0fxVQ3pFE4N7oA0IwBi3jDhERqiaQ8BDRJ3c3KAOnRnsQvIOwk8nidptTiu6jExgy7BQQcsAABZX5eT-qaUsibPdqkic830FS_Ef360Rw2VpEH_ZDQt7FM1-jkOtggI/s1600-h/11072009092.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsMf4BaXG2G9II0fxVQ3pFE4N7oA0IwBi3jDhERqiaQ8BDRJ3c3KAOnRnsQvIOwk8nidptTiu6jExgy7BQQcsAABZX5eT-qaUsibPdqkic830FS_Ef360Rw2VpEH_ZDQt7FM1-jkOtggI/s400/11072009092.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359071914827639122" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div>listening to your heart" OR "following your heart". <div><br /></div><div>Things would be clear...they should be...</div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe they won't..you want to commit and then you want to hold yourself back..</div><div><br /></div><div>Hidden joy or continuous state of trance...till when...and why not?</div><div><br /></div><div>Four ways to go and one way to choose...can't i just stay put....and then so little time..</div><div><br /></div><div>Being extreme, being romantic romantic, being just normal...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-50491239187753882702009-05-20T12:09:00.001+05:302009-05-20T12:12:06.511+05:30Variance<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:8.0pt;line-height:115%">It’s been almost a week. Still no clue about the anonymous person who sent me the flowers. As perplexed today as i was yesterday.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:8.0pt;line-height:115%">The flowers are still lying on my desk. Fresh flowers a week back! Potpourri today!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:8.0pt;line-height:115%">A vibrant moment found its place in mundane affairs. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Thank You!</span>A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-85319350002477353562009-03-20T10:35:00.009+05:302011-02-04T00:04:31.557+05:30Venting Dreams<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHPWBhQi7_6brZ8swsFBj27I7HGNPMFKgwIaXmfef8YByQFLeOpnuKBidVWUfqSApX-cy8MBe1omknIhAlroUnGVYl_gK6AHy4ZOExeY-P6-KOzsVTBrNeeX3cQdS2aRPSnsgL3JuCE0o/s1600-h/Venting+Dreams.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315132599636255090" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHPWBhQi7_6brZ8swsFBj27I7HGNPMFKgwIaXmfef8YByQFLeOpnuKBidVWUfqSApX-cy8MBe1omknIhAlroUnGVYl_gK6AHy4ZOExeY-P6-KOzsVTBrNeeX3cQdS2aRPSnsgL3JuCE0o/s400/Venting+Dreams.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 400px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 311px;" /></a><br />
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No affirmations, no abandonment, not much of thinking at all.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Get up, brush your teeth, take a bath, go to office, do your work, hang out with friends if you feel like, listen to music, eat a lot, stare at the phone ringing, chew gum, watch some movies, learn some coding, read maximum city, call up home, sleep, wake up, body ache and venting dreams.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The daemons of the past have been long gone. There is no corner in my mind or my heart for them. </div><div class="MsoNormal">Not even reminiscing of a subconscious mind.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> And day by day, these venting dreams keep pulling me back. </o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">Free as a bird in these venting dreams, only to realize when you wake up that your wings have been tied and your flight is short. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> A desire to gain freedom from inhibitions, responsibilities, worries, memories, control, expectations and forbiddance. </div><div class="MsoNormal">Two steps at a time I move ahead and one step at a time I am pulled back.</div></div>A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-38439375442275543542009-03-04T12:20:00.003+05:302009-03-04T12:25:51.768+05:30“Dream”<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkH_u3DycD9aGOz2jeoBuHahnWHeubNFiTp_tI97EnEVcBGvJm1o7YE4308OMvRoGzqg4BpanaGTdMnRK_x3fmr8Zic0QTV6nQ-JRVDQGrt1FSCjGzE6V3U3xyTF2zXIUWnXZzEHN1hi8/s1600-h/28022009055.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309222570168974930" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkH_u3DycD9aGOz2jeoBuHahnWHeubNFiTp_tI97EnEVcBGvJm1o7YE4308OMvRoGzqg4BpanaGTdMnRK_x3fmr8Zic0QTV6nQ-JRVDQGrt1FSCjGzE6V3U3xyTF2zXIUWnXZzEHN1hi8/s400/28022009055.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Well, I know I it was supposed to be a Tiffin Centre. Yes, I also remember each slap-up support and words of encouragements bestowed on me. So, I was wondering if any of you (esp: Sita, Saumil, Ritika, including others) would be “equally” interested in tagging along for a new plan. Please look at the picture to let me know your views. P.S: Now if you guys are wondering whether I would also be wearing a “Lungi” and lifting it all the way up, doing the Appadi Poda dance, while wearing the black local made ray-ban that can be brought from the national market, shouting “enna rascala” and “dischkiyon dischkiyon”, all the time making it a point that my South Indian accent makes me look EVEN more stupid, I must say, you are in for a big treat. I can probably endorse the veerapan style moustache (I did try the moustache for two weeks. I received a mixed bag of response, so let me know if I should be putting it up on the blogger), slurp and burp while eating, and use “Aiyo”, “macha”, “Chuma” and “wassup da” in every sentence that comes out from my mouth. Well, the opportunities are unlimited and there is no dearth of creativity. Maybe someday we can open up a few branches in Goa too. Till then, let me wonder how the picture would look if it read: Anant Wines” [And for all you “northies” who must have had fun or enjoyed the remarks against “us” southies” I will put up a board so that your kith and klan can understand what we serve: “We serve “Child Beer” and “Chilled Bear”].</div>A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-66828001261750256192009-02-21T19:27:00.002+05:302009-02-21T19:31:36.908+05:30Part iii<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipUMBVyCVI9TFSsMY8_6AFbQSfDu6SnSSLQEKiOqa3keQ7PhVzlZH7ZFkoo3fkL2atEfi45v4uDqF0jqFNcp2xBK7ccAWnc5uvqeDXV040RbX9vi5DWYCyweCNDSnNxhO2zekZ-Wstegs/s1600-h/9.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipUMBVyCVI9TFSsMY8_6AFbQSfDu6SnSSLQEKiOqa3keQ7PhVzlZH7ZFkoo3fkL2atEfi45v4uDqF0jqFNcp2xBK7ccAWnc5uvqeDXV040RbX9vi5DWYCyweCNDSnNxhO2zekZ-Wstegs/s400/9.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div style="CLEAR: both"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: 0% 50%; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial" alt="Posted by Picasa" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-77426770392704584052009-02-21T19:25:00.001+05:302009-02-21T19:31:53.832+05:30Part ii<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTonOOs8A2P1cRjWtRpyECPqrgnE3ufOEuYN2gOgcN0tWdSZazpIASsLvehYWGaG_SVXh9DzHFD2V0yf1Be1b1mOyn6326GbnEJnzi0ziM53J6GqO-L4aczVpoRCjJJXioqRPnxpVLqoI/s1600-h/5.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTonOOs8A2P1cRjWtRpyECPqrgnE3ufOEuYN2gOgcN0tWdSZazpIASsLvehYWGaG_SVXh9DzHFD2V0yf1Be1b1mOyn6326GbnEJnzi0ziM53J6GqO-L4aczVpoRCjJJXioqRPnxpVLqoI/s400/5.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimGF8tXLCETWucEpXWuzJVFCzOjZSA5RiDbozgHbvINE_XZ_8QGrC57ofo3gsLV0F3qFLjvWL0g_W9sKF42o5kddvSPg1qa7RCnMpm-OqgfENxlrIAnWs6q0XjAfmI5MkGJcsfe5BPF6I/s1600-h/6.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimGF8tXLCETWucEpXWuzJVFCzOjZSA5RiDbozgHbvINE_XZ_8QGrC57ofo3gsLV0F3qFLjvWL0g_W9sKF42o5kddvSPg1qa7RCnMpm-OqgfENxlrIAnWs6q0XjAfmI5MkGJcsfe5BPF6I/s400/6.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnbCSJNVVfc8AGsSr86qgUhgLcGYFxuoTi8vKd63ycjzamqUYXLvKxjIZJ9FHIFz0cNUe4_q2vfXiNP6Z5Ut1rNSYGiLy-5PPDmuIjaKOVe-3r5QcSWVagynAK41bOBNH0VBUzXHsgwdI/s1600-h/8.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnbCSJNVVfc8AGsSr86qgUhgLcGYFxuoTi8vKd63ycjzamqUYXLvKxjIZJ9FHIFz0cNUe4_q2vfXiNP6Z5Ut1rNSYGiLy-5PPDmuIjaKOVe-3r5QcSWVagynAK41bOBNH0VBUzXHsgwdI/s400/8.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYEuZKKptStK0_4-OFGJgGKysVyQgSwNjhMAvw4T1WPjsAeZCxiCswI_MEVSyd1NdR6zg8ck5EWRQyomLHb-1ZRkpVj-FLHxNtXwr-yG4hevXBNqnSgyBk7N2WWNkpXAHBSgc2QSXbdc/s1600-h/7.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYEuZKKptStK0_4-OFGJgGKysVyQgSwNjhMAvw4T1WPjsAeZCxiCswI_MEVSyd1NdR6zg8ck5EWRQyomLHb-1ZRkpVj-FLHxNtXwr-yG4hevXBNqnSgyBk7N2WWNkpXAHBSgc2QSXbdc/s400/7.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div style="CLEAR: both"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: 0% 50%; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial" alt="Posted by Picasa" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-71643296941445990352009-02-21T19:20:00.001+05:302009-02-21T19:32:08.210+05:30Part i<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA_fcp5CVDnaVJngHo_TIjC8DBJW-fsPCnqQ7tABYzbyLaXZuUOpfiDMSKc9xzMQOLhTdy_BycB0kI04Bj6UJAgucX5-wWNBUszsXDa44b_JdKGXoMqmEKofojoIEe8vkTjXp4ILqi1S8/s1600-h/1.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA_fcp5CVDnaVJngHo_TIjC8DBJW-fsPCnqQ7tABYzbyLaXZuUOpfiDMSKc9xzMQOLhTdy_BycB0kI04Bj6UJAgucX5-wWNBUszsXDa44b_JdKGXoMqmEKofojoIEe8vkTjXp4ILqi1S8/s400/1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSe0Unk1XtFID6w9Rg4NgLDHCQ3xnFJDEop1gIYcC_oq5-pd4G97bMpbr5cVZ7_5XNZpUShh6lGfnC55A3BbH5JnY_zeWJdZ7L8V9aKWBHwZMHMWUh_rgq4f9XqHu5tUvlNJrom0Ik7r4/s1600-h/2.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSe0Unk1XtFID6w9Rg4NgLDHCQ3xnFJDEop1gIYcC_oq5-pd4G97bMpbr5cVZ7_5XNZpUShh6lGfnC55A3BbH5JnY_zeWJdZ7L8V9aKWBHwZMHMWUh_rgq4f9XqHu5tUvlNJrom0Ik7r4/s400/2.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHNZawXIMuC2mlQOm7RCF7SI846FqzqGJCU6UcL8azFdW-0RPIgrvtD_uQsxsutooU1aiNX8omsqpjU1g1eaNNDtXrHRYun0FkQK775XcP-XzMBS8qjO3IHdGofn0OTg2GXvX_SX8nM2c/s1600-h/3.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHNZawXIMuC2mlQOm7RCF7SI846FqzqGJCU6UcL8azFdW-0RPIgrvtD_uQsxsutooU1aiNX8omsqpjU1g1eaNNDtXrHRYun0FkQK775XcP-XzMBS8qjO3IHdGofn0OTg2GXvX_SX8nM2c/s400/3.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig5lItImRShaVVTv9X7m6a-HhjRUYmKazEPboxnBKtWkt7otH-r7QkYhcz7JmbENmtRurgR43oNlcO2nqRQaN9lvAyjPIDoNW1KNoORygUZeXEj6teyTa9GjJm2hGeDidGBfi3J2A_u4A/s1600-h/4.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig5lItImRShaVVTv9X7m6a-HhjRUYmKazEPboxnBKtWkt7otH-r7QkYhcz7JmbENmtRurgR43oNlcO2nqRQaN9lvAyjPIDoNW1KNoORygUZeXEj6teyTa9GjJm2hGeDidGBfi3J2A_u4A/s400/4.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div style="CLEAR: both"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: 0% 50%; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial" alt="Posted by Picasa" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-84795297964394410542009-02-21T18:51:00.008+05:302009-02-21T19:32:38.191+05:30Interim Report - SynopsisThe report was pending for more than one year now. I have to pull up my socks; else I will surely find myself in a soup, answerable to a LOT of people.<br />So these are the findings of the study. A psychopath’s guidebook for understanding the psychopaths. (Please note that this is the Interim Report. The findings of the study and the conclusion will be provided in the Final Deliverable)A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-42021601478203147572009-02-21T17:06:00.006+05:302011-01-23T23:00:06.499+05:30Rambo - Light Another Day !!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">And slowly he moves through the hall, almost blinded by the darkness around him.<br />
<br />
Dyer Maker playing in the background. (Oh, did I tell ya that I love this song? It will go into my list of all time favorite romantic songs). Well, I shall provide you the lyrics of the same over <a href="http://www.lyrics007.com/Led%20Zeppelin%20Lyrics/Dyer%20Maker%20Lyrics.html">here</a>. (Click to follow link). Now I did sing “Believe in love” for a girl once over a call, and considering that it was crazy and funny at the same time, I have decided that some lucky lady (make it UNLUCKY - the one who shall commit the mistake of falling in love with me) will be at the receiving end of a scintillating dance performance and a splendid karaoke from “yours truly – signed Anant Puranik, over an awing sunset, some exotic Mexican red wine, and yes, a nice candle light dinner.<br />
<br />
Candles?? <br />
<br />
Yes, and slowly he moved from wall to wall. He had to find the candles.<br />
He remembered he had kept them in the shelf. He searched in vain only to find an ash tray, few pencils and pen, body deodorant, and a marker. The marker almost managed to fool him. His cry of joy faded even before the cry could reach his own ears. Damn!! Never ever clean your house. Especially if you are the kind of person who can spot a Zippo in a heap of clothes or find some or little joy in a mess of Blues, but cannot remember where your mobile or your wallet is when you finish cleaning your very own house.<br />
<br />
So he put on his lacerated combat uniform, the night vision gog-gles that he recently bought from subhiksha, his leather boots from red tape that old pals in Delhi had gifted him for his birthday, and black mascara on his face, that would send chills down even Arnold's spine (courtesy – Roomie’s GF AKA Wife). The Rambo was ready. Another endeavor to defy the darkness – The mission was very important and highly classified.<br />
<br />
“Like a Stone” <br />
<br />
No, he was not “like a stone”. That was the new track playing now by Audioslave. Thought you people would be interested in the playlist too. And yes, I am not going to keep pasting the hyperlink for each song that I mention. Google it yourself!! Yes, it’s an awesome song. That much I can promise.<br />
<br />
Beep!! Beep!!<br />
<br />
<em>“Be there in 15 minutes. And you better not get late”</em><br />
<br />
Ok!! The message hit Rambo’s head as if he had woken up to find himself in the enemy territory, constantly getting bombarded and hit by enemy firing and shelling. Will Rambo live to see another day? Will he be lucky to enjoy a nice dinner?<br />
<br />
And now it’s time for some commercials. :)<br />
<br />
Shopkeeper: Oh ho Anant ji , aaiye aaiye.Kaun si wine lena pasand karenge.Ye dekhiye ye..(Someother wine which is not Sula)<br />
<br />
Anant: Nahi Nahi ye nahi woh(pointing at Sula)<br />
<br />
Shopkeeper: Par aap to woh, purani mehengi wali wine.... (Stammering)<br />
<br />
Anant: Leta tha, par jab baat dinner se aage hi na bade, to koi mehengi wali wine kyun le, ye(sula) na le!<br />
<br />
Shopkeeper: Man gaye!!<br />
<br />
Anant: Kise?<br />
<br />
Shopkeeper: Aapki par ki nazar aur sula super, dono ko !!!<br />
<br />
Song time:<br />
Sasti sula super,<br />
Sasti sula super,<br />
Mehengi wali kick, sasti sula super se aaye,<br />
Sasti sula super se paise bhi bach bach jaye<br />
Sabki pasand sula super !!<br />
<br />
And we are back!!<br />
<br />
"sound playing in the background as wee have a flashback )Ab tak aapne dekha kaise hamara Rambo is khatarnak mission par bekhauf chala ja raha hai, ab aage :<br />
<br />
And all of a sudden like a bolt of lightning, Our Rambo recollects that he had kept the candles near the shoe rack. End of story<br />
<br />
Don’t you guys love happy endings? I do :)<br />
<br />
<strong>Oh yes, by the way, ever heard of a “Candle Light Bath”?</strong> Well if you haven't, ask Rambo.<br />
<br />
Make sure you tune in again, same day, same time to see how our Rambo travels to unknown territories for dinner. Till then, Keep smiling and Godspeed.<br />
<br />
(Babe I’m Gonna leave ya by the greatest rock band of all times, Led Zeppelin is the next track if you are interested in knowing)</div>A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-68691492500178878812009-01-19T17:46:00.002+05:302009-01-19T18:06:46.246+05:30Questions and AnswersNow at a certain stage of your life (make that my life, I don’t want to generalize things here), certain sequence of events occur. Events that leave you look stupid, dumb, happy, hurt, confused, and awkward and in a totally anti-climax way (somewhat taking inspiration from Ghajni – where the whole movie was an anti-climax), leave you pondering over the question that “why do I not ask questions anymore?"<br /> <br />A stage where nothing looks anomalous, even in the “least significant bit” prospect. The outlook towards everything is a bootless task. Probably, it has a lot to do with things getting mundane too.<br /><br />And probably, it’s because, no amount of explanation and logic and “if’s” and “buts’” even remotely bespeak or solve the hotchpotch that is slowly but alarmingly multiplying in the mind.<br /><br />Everything looks pre-planned. Propaganda to make sure that every beautiful thought gets mowed down. Only in my case, it’s the thoughts that are left mutilated and snapped and obviously, killed.<br /><br />So if the following lines “I practice every day to find some clever lines to say, To make the meaning come through, But then I think I'll wait until the evening, gets late And I'm alone with you, The time is right, Your perfume fills my head, The stars get red, And oh the night's so blue, And then I go and spoil it all, By saying something stupid, Like I love you ” of the song “Something stupid” by Frank Sinatra keeps playing over and over in my mind as if the propaganda was to make sure that in the entire record, only these lines were recorded and somehow, the fast forward, stop and eject buttons were disabled, I shouldn’t be surprised and surely not look shocked. Well, after all, it’s just a song. A stupid song!! <br /><br />It’s stupid; because the world labels it stupid (I am not talking about the song here!!). It’s dumb because I have never made sense (this blog entry stands as a deterrent example. It’s happy, because in spite of what I may write and what I am supposed to do, I end up defying all the logics and what people call as “sensible”. It makes me happy because, I feel it is the only way I can reciprocate to the plans of destiny that has been written down for me. It hurts because, it’s futile. It is like I have been asked to find a corner in a circular room. I could have used the term “finding needle in a hay stack”, but considering how tenacious I am, I may end up finding the needle. Stubbornness runs in my blood. It is confusing, because I always end up asking myself the same question when I find myself on the start line again after running a marathon “Is it really worth it?”. It’s confusing because, I feel that I am so stoned to realize that I have been running the same race again and again and everybody else has already left the stadium. It’s awkward, because if I was the only one who was enduring these feelings, things would have stopped looking stupid, people would have stopped labeling it dumb, it wouldn’t look confusing anymore. And, I cannot really use the “happy” aspect over here to complete the flow.<br /><br />“To do or not to do” and “who cares even if I do or I don’t do” are the songs that I have recently composed. One follows the other, making sure that the chronology is observed.<br /><br />Maybe someday, I will publish them. Maybe I will become rich. Maybe I will do things that are not pre-planned. Maybe there won’t be any propaganda anymore.<br />The wind, the night, the drive, and me in that picture in a corner somewhere. Who knows, there maybe you in that picture too. (relax!!)<br /><br />So here is the irony: “Why don’t I ask questions anymore?”A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-28703870714626664642008-12-26T14:20:00.002+05:302008-12-26T14:32:14.366+05:30Bamboo treePart 1 ♫ There was a bamboo tree, And the bamboo tree was not me, They cut the tree and called it grass, Still the grass was not me, They tried to roll the grass into a paper, The rolled paper was not me, They lit the paper and took the smoke, Smoke was not me, Smoke hit my head, The poem was me!!<br /><br />Part 2. ♫ “Pick your bottles and run to the fete!!!”,<br /><br />i said pick your bottles and run to the fete..<br />tell the girls that i am a creep,<br />Steal the love and hang out with the beast..<br /><br />pick your bottle and run to the fete..<br />rest your bum and sit on a seat,<br />listen to the guitar and the drum beats..<br />pick your bottle and run to the fete..<br /><br />kill a lover, and send me the pics,<br />shed a tear as the clock ticks,<br /><br />pick a bottle and run to a funeral,<br />the general is burying his only daughter..<br />play the carol, play the old act, la la la la la la la la<br /><br />pick your bottle, hick, hick, and run to the ,,,DAMN !!!A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-65081764501306441572008-11-15T17:02:00.002+05:302008-11-15T17:31:01.619+05:30HallucinogenicTwo roads?? there were more than two roads i guess when it all started, and i had to choose one of them, and so i did.<br />After travelling a while, i realized it was not healing the wounds and the destination was far out of sight.<br />Besides, people always advise, i mean your well wishers always advise to pick the path that will lead you to your destination where you can find yourself. The road that leads you to your destiny. Where happines awaits you with arms wide open.<br />well, everyday i get up and everday it is something new. The mirror is hallucinating. now why blame the mirror !! ( i should probably clean it more often) everyday i thought ,,maybe,,probably,,,maybe..!! The face is the same, but the reflection in the mirror keeps changing.<br />and so i went back all the way, back to the crossroad, and started walking on a new road.<br />Sadly, there was nothing like "the road not taken" or "the road less travelled" for me. It looked all the same. It still does.<br />Everything is hallucinogenic. Mystic.<br />A moment passes by and i feel i have found myself. The realization dies when another moment happens to pass by.<br />So, am i to blame myself for the confusion? for the hallucination? (lets avoid these questions, because you can't really blame yourself for the fault of others. Now can ya ? I tried doing it, and it did answer a few questions, but the restlessness never went, coz you know deep inside, it was never you in the first place)<br />These irrational thoughts and these obscure feelings...its like i am constantly drugged. On a constant high!!<br />i enjoy this feeling of uncertainity. Atleast i am not cheating myself. Trying to create these fictitious walls around me, faking my own identity. Making my ground and pushing others over the dge.<br />I am happy that i don't live in guilt. Sadly, i can sense nothing but gulit all around me. Perfect people with their deceptive faces.<br />And i don't have to pay for their sins. And if i travel and the road leads me to a place where i don't want to be, i might as well walk all the way back to the crossroad and chose a new road.<br />A little more vigilance may pay well in the longer run though.A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-82886810238800840632008-08-12T17:45:00.002+05:302008-08-12T17:50:19.637+05:30RIPStaring at 42.<br />42 messages. 42 conversations. 42 stories. 42 puzzles. Each different and yet same. Each same and yet different.<br />42 it is.<br />42: " Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything." - The <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Hitchhikers</span> Guide to the Galaxy. 42 Questions to all the answers of life - me!!<br />A single click of mouse and everything gets deleted from the RAM of my life. My brain caching all that it can, probably to reminisce these 42 if ever i plan to walk that line again in ma mind.<br />Probably a revisit before i direct the 42 to the trash and remove it from the trash permanently. Probably not.<br />42 lies embracing a single truth? Or a wrong dimension. A delusion!!!<br />Staring.A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-55183851830894380342008-07-31T14:27:00.005+05:302008-07-31T14:54:54.486+05:30Escape<p><em><strong>"A path to innovation and a path to destruction, bound by the same chains of human limitations."</strong></em> </p><p>Limitations of need, desire, happiness, pain, suffering and existence. </p><p>Who defines these limitations? Who defines the right and the wrong? The good from the bad, the true from the false, <strong>the YOU from the ME.</strong> </p><p>We all make mistakes. That's how we have been crafted and made. To err, to fall, to suffer. We all, at some point of time in our lives have woken up at nights due to bad dreams. Dreams - They reflect the conscience in a peculiar manner that often goes unnoticed. </p><p>We have lied and we have cheated. We have broken a few hearts and we have been heart broken. We have betrayed and tasted the bitter experience when someone doesn't live up to our expectations. We have broken a few promises too. We have laughed and we have cried. Sometimes the smiles and tears have gone unnoticed. The cycle of life takes us to myriad places, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">eventhough</span> we haven't moved an inch. We have been blamed and have taken the blames also. <strong>We have been the transmitter and we have been the receiver</strong>. </p><p>And yet, </p><p>We all have risen from the ashes, to condemn our actions of the past, to correct our mistakes, to fly again, to search for happiness and to mince the pain. <strong>The path we choose undermines who we are</strong>. <strong>The path that differentiates the YOU from the ME</strong>. </p><p><em><strong>Mortal lives, Immortal thoughts.</strong></em> </p><p>And before the words get entangled and before you shun this as "OBSCURE"! </p><p>In a nutshell, your inner happiness and the path you follow differentiates the right from the wrong, the good from the bad and the YOU from the ME. </p><p>You may hurt a thousand people and you may betray a thousand more. But, never cheat yourself and more importantly never cheat your heart. <em><strong>"Ironically, it's harder to forgive self than to forgive others."</strong></em> </p><p>Learn to know what you want. Learn to read what you desire. Learn to mark the path that will make you a hero or a villain. </p><p>Moments in life can be weird, ruthless, funny and generous. Often, the greatest kings, the scientists, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">accomplishers</span> have been all alone, especially when they needed to share their happiness and success. </p><p>So in this pursuit for happiness, play well. <strong>Choose your path well</strong>. </p><p>Remember, Life is what we want it to be. "WE" </p><p>Empathy and Sympathy are two faces of the same coin. You may get through as a winner at the end of the day and you may look back and absolve your past based on your present. Your state of mind will always determine how you look back at the past. Your success is as relative as everything else in this life. It is as relative as our existence. It will either comprehend your happiness or increase the hurting. A single moment of truth, a moment of realization is enough to break a million fake smiles and a hollow world that you portray to the world. Stay clear. Choose your path well. </p><p><em><strong>And in the end, the only one who will be answerable to our actions, our choices, our decisions is "US". The sooner we realize this, the sooner we can escape.</strong></em></p>A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4477101947590094837.post-42945472543144918232008-07-15T15:25:00.006+05:302008-07-15T16:59:17.417+05:30The Hermit Crab“You have started working like an ASS!!” – Sita, Ritika<br />“kya hogaya hai tujhe, kya tha, kya ban gaya hai” – Harsha<br />“Bhai, Itni raat ko bhi office mein” Dhanno Bhai<br />“tujhe subah 7 baje ghar se nikalte hue dekhta hun and raat ko 11 baje wapas aate hue, bas that’s all I have known u since the past one month” – New roomie (A Bong, yet again, but not even .1% cool as my ex roomie, Joy A.K.A Saikat (yes, saikat is a name))<br />I usually ignore such statements and simply choose to address myself as a workaholic. So yesterday while walking back to my house (I choose to call it a house and not a home), karaoke’ing some nice classic rock songs, I felt schizoid. I know it’s nothing to be proud of.<br /><br />“Connected to the world through so many means and yet in a way disconnected.”<br /><br />Feeling Schizoid.<br />I have let myself go.<br /><br /><em>I think the time is not right, but I will hang on,<br />I will fight it out; I will hold the line.<br /></em><br />Enjoying the solitude, the space that I have created for myself;<br />I am by my own, the demons giving me some company;<br /><br /><em>Yet, the day is really long; the night sometimes refuses to pass by;<br />But like everybody, sometimes, in pursuit..<br /></em><br />The hurt hasn’t gone, though the tears have dried away,<br />Shattered dreams, I face whatever is coming my way<br /><br /><em>Sometimes, I need a helping hand;<br />A shoulder to rest on, a tender kiss, a warm touch to make the tiredness run away, and I look at myself,<br />I feel that sometimes, maybe sometimes..<br /></em><br />Reminiscing old friends, the lost smile, that serene touch;<br />Those improbable moments, improbable wishes;<br /><br /><em>And now there are desires, mutated and cloned; wishing someone may undo it all;<br />In search; maybe sometimes..<br /></em><br />All I had back then was my world<br /><em>All I languish for is my own world.</em>A Simple Equationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00345585310356574751noreply@blogger.com4