tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60226736533941770102024-02-21T20:25:34.300+05:30memoirs of a confirmed cynicRThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-33761364039580948162013-09-23T22:08:00.003+05:302013-09-23T22:08:49.613+05:30Review of Vidiyum Munn<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">The female version of Theeradha Mounam is hauntingly beautiful creating a melancholic mood. In contrast, the male track is brisk and strives to spring hope. Both the songs, require a few listens before you fall in love with them but soon the lyrics get tangled in your head. The stirring background music and the wonderful voice of Tanvi and Girishh is a true treat.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">Another song that I particularly loved was Vidyadha Iravu by Girishh. I felt that the song was refreshing, with the composer featuring a lively solo. I confess, the track demands some patience from the listener but rewards you with wonderful music. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">Penne by Susheela Raman on the hand actually presents a spell of eeriness. I look forward to see the movie to understand the context of the song. I expect that the composer has used the song to express some very powerful emotions. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">In short, Vidiyum Munn is a breath of fresh air in today's musical world with a truly amazing lyrical platform.</span></div>
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RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-36875294444410621612012-06-26T08:32:00.004+05:302012-06-26T08:32:47.195+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Broken Smile<br />
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Life is a prison,<br />
Oh God let me out.<br />
No one to listen,<br />
To hear when you shout.<br />
<br />
Climb the walls of insanity,<br />
Ride the waves of despair.<br />
If you fall it don't matter,<br />
There's no one to care.<br />
<br />
Strong is good, weak is bad.<br />
Be it false, be it true.<br />
Your mind makes the choice,<br />
And enforces it too.<br />
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Cell walls built by society,<br />
With rules to adhere.<br />
If you breach the acceptable,<br />
You had better beware.<br />
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Hide the pain, carry on,<br />
Routine is the key.<br />
Don't let on that you're not,<br />
What you're pretending to be.<br />
<br />
Lock it all up inside you,<br />
How badly that bodes.<br />
Look out for that one day,<br />
When it all just explodes.<br />
<br />
Leaving naught but a shell,<br />
Base functionality too.<br />
But killing all else,<br />
That was uniquely you.<br />
<br />
So how do you grow,<br />
With a timebomb inside?<br />
Or how to defuse it,<br />
Without destroying its ride?<br />
<br />
Nope am not suicidal :)<br />
</div>RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-19257807983938407802012-01-16T21:15:00.003+05:302012-01-16T21:23:00.224+05:30First Love - IIThis year i promise to write more,that is my resolution. at least one post a month minimum.. Senthil pointed out i should complete this story. It is a little abrupt my previous attempt. So i tried to write. But this story cannot end in two chapters.. But here is the next part. So let me know if it is too cinematic.<br /><br />-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />Why do I like her so much?" he wondered.. He shuddered as it occurred to him that it really didn‟t seem like just friendship anymore. It was more, more passionate, more emotional, more energizing, more draining… at that moment, he wasn‟t sure it had ever been just friendship between them. <br /><br />He caught sight of her surrounded by screaming kids, strapping a helmet on her niece teaching her to ride a bicycle. He smiled fondly. She was so methodical with some things. She wore his helmet religiously and nagged him about his when they went out because he hated wearing the helmet. He shook his head but didn't look away. She was a study in contrasts, and the puzzle-like appeal of it was impossible for him to resist. He knew that she could throw a ball, shoot pool, curse or pick a fight as well as any guys he knew. At the same time she could be a kind, caring no nonsense girl who shrieks so loudly at the sight of a tiny cockroach that she often goes supersonic.<br /><br />As he got closer to her, she looked up, her eyes almost immediately settling on him. <br />He felt his heart beat hard a couple of times, and he had to draw a breath, because for a second, he was short on air. Then she smiled that half smile of hers, the laugh lines at her eyes and mouth appearing, before she gave a quick wink. She then ducked her head turning her back and continued playing with the kids.<br /><br />He swallowed hard. That wink had been for him. Crystal-clear revelation struck him like a bolt of summer lightning sizzling through the chill December air. He wanted her with him, wanted her badly. Needed her as a partner, and not just at an intellectual level but at an emotional level. Craved her as as companion more than he'd ever jonesed over getting tendulkar's autograph or that first taste of beer. Connected with her in so many ways that he couldn't see a way to untangle himself and didn't even want to try. <br /><br />She loved him. He believed it. He had also believed he didn't have it in himself to love her like she deserved. It wasn't her fault. There was so much pain connecting him to the past, a tenuous lingering link to past tragedies, that he had skipped right over the obvious signs. He'd been too busy grappling with letting go of what was gone and wondering if he has any right to grab hold of what was in front of him.<br /><br />But he wanted to feel that inside him so badly he could barely stay still. It was like this more and more often, feeling like he just couldn‟t breathe without her. But could he just let himself fall freely.. be sure that she would catch him? Did he have it in him to take the risk?.. He needed to think, examine and critically analyse.RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-89502164476762526542011-11-07T19:32:00.000+05:302011-11-07T19:33:25.635+05:30Lessons learnedI’ve often been told that I was born with a book under my nose. I learned to speak when i was one and learned to read when I was five. Books to me were a miracle. Pages to look forward to, new worlds to meet and new friends to make. I relish my books partly because these friends I make rarely judge me.<br /><br /> <br />When I was fourteen I learned that I was fat. A family member pointed out in a family vacation, said I should lose weight as the world was unkind to fat women. With all the naivety of a fourteen year old I declared, no there would be people who respect me for who I am and not what I look like. I learned to diet, I learned to exercise. Of course I learned to cheat too. I also was a victim of maladies which only resulted in me putting on a lot more weight.<br /><br /> <br />Once I turned eighteen, there I was out into the world away from the protected school and home environment, where I learned how miserable people can make you because of how you look. That family member was right; the world is unkind almost to the point of being cruel to fat women.<br /><br /> <br /><br />I’ve learned over the years to cringe away from mirrors in the dressing rooms, glances from men, learned to tense myself be on the defense for the insult coming from the "popular" girl's mouth. I’ve learned to live with comments like "you hardly eat" how do you put on weight? And the concern of well meaning professors who ask if I have thought of aerobics. I learned ways to keep myself invisible. A doer by nature, it is not an easy task. I was the go to girl. If you wanted to run for student council id be your campaign manager. If you want to organize a debate I was the stage manager, if you wanted a last minute write up in the college paper to fill the blanks I was your girl. I always worked behind the scenes trying to keep the spot light away.<br /><br /> <br /><br />I learned how to slip to the back row of a group photograph, how to dress in shades of gray, black and brown. I’ve learned to not let it bother when guys treat me like their bud and most importantly learned how to not let it bother me when people rarely complemented me on how I look.<br /><br /> <br /><br />There are a hundred words which could describe me - smart, talkative, kind, frank etc. But the word a lot of people picked for me was fat. When I turned twenty two I went out into the world, wearing invisible armour fully expecting an array of barbed comments. However I was pleasantly surprised. I got a good job. I was and am respected by my colleagues for my intellect and my ethics. As I listen to problems of abusive mother in laws, workaholic husbands, burden of debts I soon learned that there are worse things than not liking how you look. I learned that there are more terrifying things like losing your mom, your dad, your husband or god forbid your child.<br /><br /> <br /><br />Ultimately I realized the truth - the truth that I'm all right the way I am. I was all right , all along. I will never be thin, but I know I will be happy. I will love myself and my body for what it can do - because it is strong enough to lift, walk, read and most importantly helps another person. All of us look for Prince Charming, but if he never shows up or worse yet comes along takes an appraising glance at me and passes on I will learn to live with that. Because I am worth more than that.<br /><br /> <br /><br />Remember that the next time you think your life has ended because of an unkind word, a breakup or the disregard of people you thought were your friends.RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-66641331802366145762011-10-06T14:25:00.004+05:302011-10-06T14:28:01.961+05:30I am...Amongst ppl who know and love me I am the "Mami". While the nickname stuck because of my innate nature to be the adult amongst the group of 20 something “adolescents” who I often am forced to "mother” it may also be because I am someone who staunchly believes in Hinduism and openly declares that I am not a secular person. That does not mean I go around building up a Hindutva movement, or declaring other religions are evil.<br /><br />When discussing other beliefs and practices, I do it with respect. I never put down another’s beliefs, as wrong as I may find it is. At least not in front of them. When I have children I would make sure they understand the similarities and the differences of different religions without getting into big discussions.<br /><br />As long as I learn to respect the feelings of others and dignify them with their right to follow whatever they believe in, why should I project myself as someone who is tolerant of everything everyone does? I am proud to call myself a Hindu, a part of a way of life which wholeheartedly accepted other religions to co-exist, a concept of which is embraced by every sixth person in the world.<br /><br /> <br />My religion does not condemn you to hell for every wrong doing you do. It does not indicate that one cannot escape hell by being good; as everybody is bad. It does not promote the idea that no matter how hard you strive to live a virtuous life, if you lack certain beliefs, you go to hell like certain other religions do.<br /><br />For something to be eternal it must have always existed, and must continue to exist in the future. Any religion that has a founder cannot claim to have always existed. There was no Christianity before Jesus and no Islam before Muhammad. Sikhism did not exist before Guru Nanak, nor Confucianism before Confucius. <br /><br />I have been thinking about fundamentalists’ claims that everyone apart from “true followers of the religion” will go to hell and be eternally tortured. They often try to reconcile this with a good, merciful and loving God by saying “it is written, it is the Law, and God cannot disobey the Law”. Unlike these religions Hinduism does not have a definitive book. There are the Vedas of course, but these are more works of praise to God than Law or rules, and these are supplemented by agamas from each school. It seems to me that if God writes a definitive book that he must follow from that point until eternity then this is limiting his omnipotence. Metaphorically speaking God has created a rock so heavy that he can’t lift it.<br /><br /> <br />I’ve seen people claiming to be atheists, people who are highly skeptical about anything supernatural. My issue with this line of thought is if one has no religious account of how the world functions as a cohesive unit, how is it even remotely possible to satisfy one's need for depth, engagement and serenity in life? As for agnostics I don’t get their philosophy. Seems like the biggest cop out in life. Scientifically speaking they may argue that it’s pretty darn difficult for the "supreme being" to listen to every one of our problems and answer all our prayers. If proof is what you require why don’t you look around you or within you? I am a science person myself. The way a simple cell in your body operates maybe a result of evolution, but most processes require external moderation, a power which ensures that the process proceeds smoothly. To propose the idea that human beings are smart enough to know the workings of the entire universe seems like a huge leap. Just because one cannot understand God does not necessarily mean he isn’t there.<br /><br />Through the years people try to destroy my faith by promoting our beliefs to be superstitious and non secular. The recent debate on why certain temples ban women from entering their premises is a case in point. Do you question why women are not allowed EVER into mosques? Muslims are allowed to by law practice their prayers in their workplace but we cannot celebrate the time honoured ayutha pooja? <br /><br /><br />I don’t celebrate Christmas, and I don’t intend to start once I have kids just because I want them to be secular. I’d rather celebrate navarathri and deepavali . If that is being non secular then I don’t really care. It is just ironic that the country adopts the concept that being secular is actually being "anti Hindu", while truly putting down the most accepting faith in the world.RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-67964651686842335892011-08-23T11:24:00.000+05:302011-08-23T11:26:10.515+05:30The "Anna" ManiaI'm sick of the innumerable emails and text messages asking me to join the war against corruption. The reason I’m presented with is "growing awareness". Not so long ago my six year old neighbor asked me if I "paid" off a traffic policeman. That’s the level of awareness that’s already present in this country. While we are all for ending corruption, the stir caused by Anna and gang seems to be unnecessary and makes one wonder if this is a plot for fame and publicity.
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<br />The central idea which many ppl don’t see is,
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<br />What makes the Lokpal version of Anna and gang the best version?
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<br />Yes we all want corruption and the mayhem driving this country to be brought to focus. Why not take suggestions from the NCPRI version? The government version of the bill has some amazing issues highlighted. What is happening here is not an expression of freedom of expression, its a demand for ransom. The existence of overwhelming corruption in India is due to the increasing complexities of the bureaucracy. There are way too many rules, complexities and ambiguities. Addition of another layer which is to be extremely powerful is only making the maze more complex. The more complex the process the more the incentive for corruption.
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<br />Are people aware of constitutional bodies like the CVC, CBI, CAG which already exist to identify the problems in the system. How is Lokpal going to be any different from these? If they were all undermined by politicians and corrupt bureaucrats how is it possible for Lokpal to remain above the clutches of this level of corruption.
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<br />Lets look at this logically. Is it even possible for a "Civil body" to be independent and hire thousands of "honest" people to fight the war against corruption? People in India suffer more from grass root level corruption than worrying about the inclusion of the Prime Minister under the Lokpal.
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<br />Where is the compromise? The government maybe going at it all wrong to meet the demands of the people, but still they are the elected government body. We need to remember that, there is a sense of order established for a reason. Reports of people pouring in and joining the protest maybe good for the TRP, but tell me this how many of you bothered to read the highlights of the different versions of the Lokpal.
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<br />What Anna and gang propose may have started as a stepping stone towards bettering the corrupt system, but personally they have a deep sense of arrogance to say " I have the exclusive right towards fighting corruption and my way is the only way."
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<br />Before you join the Anna bandwagon, consider and examine the different proposal, the alternatives and then answer this question for me,
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<br />In a war to bring integrity and honesty into the system don’t you think fighting with the blackmail of eminent death a road to anarchy?RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-9652946512353382582011-07-30T22:41:00.001+05:302011-07-30T22:43:19.195+05:30Yeah.. am a peter.. so what?Let’s start this post by stating I am somewhat of a snob. I frown upon roadside food, prefer English movies, shop at metro for my shoes, talk to the majority of my friends in English, loathe tamizh soap operas and absolutely detest it when someone talks bad English. This makes me a "peter" or should I say "mary". I admit it makes my life a lot frustrating specially when am with some friends and family who insist on making fun of the same. Although what they don’t understand is that there are levels of "peter".<br /><br />You have the absolute peters. The ones who hate everything Indian made. The ones who say i only shop at Gucci, drink only lattes and say " oh what a lame language Taamil is", pretend to have not heard of Thiruvalluvar. I have quite a few friends in this category.<br /><br />The you have the total opposites. The ones who detest “Peters”. The ones who are the cynics. The ones who "try" hard to be one with the mass. The ones, who insist on travelling by bus when it’s easier to take an auto, contend that you carry out a conversation in tamizh, refuse to pay the auto man another five bucks and insist on buying a ten rupee movie ticket when clearly we can clearly afford something more. I wonder if we can give the folks in this category a name. What is the opposite of Peter? “Tamizhselvan?”.<br /><br />And then there are the intermediate "peters" like me. Yes we like a certain standard of things, we cannot stand 10 rupee tickets, rarely converse in tamizh except to immediate family. But we love shopping on the platform , while at the same time enjoy a good kuthu paatu.<br /><br />But you know what? We have the best of both worlds. I am much better at articulating myself in English rather than Tamizh. So it stands to reason i talk to some of my best friends or sometimes even my family in a language I am comfortable in. This in no way means I don’t know Tamizh or dislike it or my city. I love Madras. There is this conflict here between the invasions of the modern society and those steeped in the traditions of the place.<br /><br /><br />In the whole circle of people who accuse me of being a "Peter", I wonder if anyone has even read a single Tamizh novel. For the record I enjoy a good story, language hardly matters. We earn good money why not let those who cannot afford to use the Rs 10 tickets. <br />As for the friends on the other end of the spectrum, trust me nothing beats the Nair Kada Tea. You enjoy way more than what you would with your Rs. 80 Capuccino. <br /><br /> Let’s not put labels guys. Live together die alone right :).. You can still end up being friends even if you’re on opposite ends.RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-44035118251930106872011-06-19T19:39:00.002+05:302011-06-19T19:41:52.424+05:30Dear Mr. Hazare,While scores of Indians support you, offer their pledge to you I am pretty sure they don’t want to be you. What you are attempting is a not putting out small kitchen embers it is more along the lines of a roaring forest rampage. We as a group commend your effort; we applaud your attempt to curb the ever rising monster of “corruption”. However we do have some queries, have some worries with your growing approach to this matter.<br /><br />First things first I’d fire whoever is your PR manager. They seem to be operating under the notion that all press is good press. There are rumors going around that you were a freedom fighter. It would have been quite an impressive feat, considering the fact you would have been 6 or 7 years old. <br /><br />We as a nation are trained to become cynics. We don’t expect miracles. When Jayalalitha came to power we hoped she would change the current state of affairs with regard to Wine shops in the city we don’t expect crime rate to drop or auto rickshaws to magically start using “meters”. When you went on fast, we were genuinely excited. We hoped that the public would have some say in the Lokpal. What we did not expect was a complete eradication of corruption in the country. What you expect from Lokpal is as farfetched as India winning the football world cup. If you just “wikied” corruption in India you can see that it dates back decades. Did you think one movement is going to change it all? <br /><br />Your movement created an impact. It made scores of Indians acknowledge the problem of corruption. It resulted in the UPA agreeing to draft a joint committee for the Lokpal. This would have improved the rate of corruption control in India. We would have won a battle, inspired the scores of Indian to wage a war. Isn’t it how we start?<br /><br />A lot of people look up to you, you give people hope but your continued actions are taking away this hope. Please change your approach. Your demands on the members of the so called “civil society” being chosen on the basis of “honesty” is ridiculous. Honest according to whom? It is a relative term. Do you not know how the bureaucracy in this country works? They can dig up dirt on anyone, including you. There needs to be a set system of implementation on how the people are represented in the Lokpal. The whole idea is that this committee is to be “of the people” a society chosen by you does not represent the whole of India. <br /><br />It cannot be all your way. You need to give and take. Gandhiji went on Satyagraha because he believed that the British government will not listen to his demands. But even he compromised keeping in mind the bigger picture. Times are changing, a step by step approach may work; we just need some patience. We need to start at the grass root level. If a 24 year old girl like me can understand that it should be much more apparent to someone of your experience. After all Mr. Hazare Rome was not built in a day.RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-59563191194989164992010-11-30T11:26:00.000+05:302010-11-30T11:27:05.866+05:30Being MediocreI’ve been in SMC for the last seven years and have written for this newspaper for the last six. Looking back id say the social construct of this institution demands that you fit in; it treated you well to fit in and in its own way took care of you if it fit in. Some say it is time to step up and make the change. I say it is in not easy to change the mindset of an entire institution, after all Rome wasn’t built in a day. <br /><br /><br />This isn’t the view of the college or the paper, it is a personal manifesto. A plea from someone who always “thought” of herself as mediocre and could never really be who she wanted to. It’s about a choice and it is about your life. This choice doesn’t require you to try hard to buck the system, though it challenges you to rethink your position in this institution. I have learnt one important lesson over the years, there is nothing wrong in being mediocre. There is not much of a difference between being a genius and being mediocre.<br /><br />A genius in the outside world is one with an IQ of over 150, one who probably has an eidetic memory or one who probably wins the Nobel Prize. However in here a genius is one who has exceptional abilities and insights to find the not so obvious solutions to the problems every student faces in this institution, “How to get accepted and still be me?”<br /><br /><br />What defined the genius? Were geniuses only those who created what was perceived as the beautiful or the shocking, those who formed some piece of work that delivered a visceral punch? In painting, in music, in academia, in literature or theater? If so, did that make the rest of the 4000 odd students nothing more than the audience? Passive observers whose only contribution was applause or criticism? Think of it this way, what became of the geniuses without the “mediocre” audience?<br /><br /> <br /><br />No one in a genius all the time. Albert Einstein had trouble finding his own house when he returned home early every day. Alexander Graham bell forgot his own telephone number. But all of us are geniuses sometimes. The tragedy is that this society keeps drumming the genius part out. The problem is that we seem to have entered a Faustian bargain as a group. We trade our genius and artistry for possible stability.<br /><br />I agree it is very difficult to find security in mediocrity. You can work only so many hours, fret only so much. Being a slightly better at academics or a slightly better artist can be taxing. You’re always looking over your shoulder, always trying to be a little less mediocre than the girl next to you. It wears you out. It’s impossible to do the work at the same time you’re in pain. The moment to moment insecurity of so many things classes, labs, sports, culturals, robs you of the confidence you need to do great work.<br /><br /><br />I leave you with this thought, think of what you do as an art. Your art is what you do and no one can tell you exactly how to do it. Your art is the act of taking personal responsibilities, challenging the status quo which at the end of the day changes people. You don’t need to be a “genius” to do that, plain simple “mediocrity” would doRThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-3501825808485245292010-05-03T12:37:00.003+05:302010-05-03T12:42:29.682+05:30Mr. Daredevil and me <br /><br />I have a very active imagination. While most people dream of random mundane stuff, my dreams are always of flying monkeys, circus polar bears on rampage, man eating spiders and so on. So during me not-so-brief stay on this planet there have been quite a few terrifying characters I have made up/watched on the television. However none of them can even compare to Mr. Daredevil. <br /><br />I was helping H move into his new house and little did I know I was being watched. Watched by someone who knew every nook and corner of the house that I didn’t know existed…until of course he disappeared into them! After a day of heavy lifting and cleaning H offered to go get us some food while I unearthed some kitchenware from the yet to be opened boxes. As I was wrestling with the packing paper to find some usable plates, the power went off. I rummaged through the boxes to find some candles to light and that’s when I felt his presence. <br /><br />I feel a chill go up my spine when I hear a scuffling sound near the cupboard. I try to scream as loud as I can to ward off the evil that lurks but no words come out. That is when I see him. He stands there proudly smirking knowingly at me. His thousand eyes marking his target while he begins to calmly move towards me trying to figure out the best way to take me down. As I watched in mounting horror he undid his hidden wings and prepared to take flight. He leaps into the air and hits me. I flail my arms around and my body writhes in terror. He flies straight at me…wings beating, altitude rising and falling most unpredictably. Seconds before impact I freeze, hold my ground and simply raise my hands feebly and turn my head away so I don’t see into those eyes before he strikes. <br /><br />I tried to defend myself. What I did not know was that this flying critter was the ace of fly school. He was top gun material, probably the captain of the fleet. He anticipated my swing, dove, twisted and did a roll before climbing vertically upwards and disappeared into one of those fore mentioned nooks which only he knew exist!!! I stood there, stunned and speechless at what had just happened knowing fully well that he had won the battle wings down and the worst was yet to come. <br /><br />I try to make my way out of the house before he shows up again. I started hard when the click of the door knob resounded. Shit. Can he open doors now? Why me? I thought. It wasn't fair. Someone touched my arm and I scream. Thank god it’s H. He is startled and turns me around. “What’s wrong he asks?” At this point my skin is clammy and my complexion is white. He looks troubled and insists on knowing what’s wrong. I point a shaky finger towards the bedroom. As H prepares to go and investigate I stop him saying its useless to go unarmed.<br /><br /> Armed with a cricket bat H slowly entered the room. He hits Mr.D in a swift sideswipe and made him spin across the floor…he came to a stop after hitting a chair leg and lay there a while with his precious wings strewn clumsily about, but almost as soon as he stopped he righted his wares, twitched his antennae and ran off at 160km/h towards some unseen haven he knew of. He turns, gives us one last look which plainly says “You may have won the battle but not the war.”<br /><br />H turns to me with an unbelievable look on his face “A fricking cockroach? You made me think it was something much worse.”<br /><br />I hear H ran into him another day and tried to take him out with a spray of mortein but I assume Mr.D didn’t get hit right because he dove into the sink (probably washed the stinging bug-spray off himself) and reappeared a few days later after his “sick leave” in the bathroom.<br /><br />Mr. D is living proof that roaches were here before us, will live amongst us, and will survive after we nuke each other. H for one has given up on trying to get rid of him. He swears that after he stopped trying to kill him Mr.D stopped pulling those maverick-fly-boy moves. Mr.D now even has the decency to hide when H has guests.RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-14315377036768063922010-04-29T11:46:00.002+05:302010-04-29T11:49:54.248+05:30Sprucing up!I was up last night unable to sleep mindlessly surfing through the TV when I saw a re-run of the much talked of ‘Evolution’ ad of Dove. It shows a plain, geeky woman walking up and seating herself in front of the camera and then being transformed by hair, light, and make-up into a glamour diva. The message conveyed of course was that it’s all doable—those flawless complexions, perfect features that seem to drive terror and cause self doubt amongst women all over via all visual media, are not so scary and impossible anymore. <br /><br />The optional message is that it’s all fake—which means that the rest of us, too, can look like the million bucks it will cost us, for happiness is merely beauty at a price. <br /><br />Like most introverts I grew up with my nose in a book, and so somehow entirely missed the process that socializes people to take some care with their appearance. While this saved me much of the heartache and self-doubt during school life, it also ensured that the real world came as a rude shock. I was forced to amend my quite genuine belief that looks don’t matter, to the indignant position that they shouldn’t matter.<br /><br />I for one experienced this horror when I went for an interview last week, where I ran into a classmate of mine who was there for the same interview. Did I have better grades? Yes. Did I do better on my written tests and my tech rounds? Yes. Did I have more experience than the other applicant? Yes. Was I better looking than her? No. Don’t get me wrong here. I was well dressed, well mannered. But I wasn’t wearing make up or dint take as much effort with how I presented myself as the other applicant. However I got an email saying I wasn’t what they were looking for while the other applicant was hired. Of course there is always the possibility that she was better qualified than me and maybe I am just crying over spilt milk. <br /><br />It’s too tedious to cite all the studies that show that the earth’s very axis is tilted albeit slightly in favour of better-looking people, who despite the fact of having been assumed to have fewer brains( which is definitely not always true), get hired more easily, make more money, live easier lives, and have more fun. <br />Most people would prefer to believe that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but evolutionary psychology tells a different story. In reality, everyone is likely to gravitate toward certain physical characteristics that make some people more desirable than others.<br /><br />These preferences exist for one basic reason: biological reproduction. It is a well established fact that male preferences are biologically and evolutionarily programmed to find signs of youth and health attractive, so as to seek females that are best suited to carry on their genes.<br /><br />Ever since the first cave woman held a bit of shiny stuff against her skin, ever since an Egyptian noblewoman smeared green mineral paste on her eyelids and bathed in donkey’s milk, we’ve been using brain to spruce up ways to make oneself look better, raising the beauty stakes ever higher and forcing the less attractive to play ever-more frantic games of catch up.<br /><br />We are now at a watershed moment in the history of human hotness. Things are evening out. Between makeup, makeovers and surgery, the ugly and/or insecure have never had it so good, which is nice, because their ranks are swelling with every new magazine issue, television show and movie that comes out. Once upon a time it was kajal in the eye , flowers in the hair and today it’s liposuction and Botox. Who knows, facial transplantation surgery—now used only in the most extreme medical need—may one day become as casual as a haircut. <br /><br />I haven’t yet worked out how I feel about all this (though I should be appalled). We should know better than to fall for it, but frankly, as long as the world continues to reward style over substance ( in many cases) , getting the odd lock highlighted or your eyebrows shaped might not be such a bad option to flinging yourself off a bridge.RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-54671594770999203642010-04-11T12:14:00.005+05:302010-04-14T22:27:20.998+05:30SalaaaaryI have started hating family functions. I guess its the only way one meets their cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews etc etc. What i don't like is people pestering me about what i do.<br /><br />Q1: What do you do now?<br />Q2: how much does it pay?<br /><br />Excuse me random daugher of a third cousin of my dad, its none of your business. <br /><br />What is it with us people? Whats the obsession that we have about education, job qualification?<br /><br />I think we should blame the previous generation. When i was a kid i remember parents waiting at the school gates to pick up their kids yapping about random non important things like "My daughter is the first in class. My son has finished all levels of the Hindi exams. My daughter has started preparing for iit from std IX."At that time i used to think we would be better. We would be much better than our parents at least in this respect. However i find we are even worse. <br /><br />I remember the time when people asked "Where do you work? Have you got your promotion? When will you become a manager?" But now its "Why arent you working for an MNC? Dont apply to that US university its not even in the top 50. Oh you studied in that college, oh they never have campus interview" <br /><br />The problem why asking for personal information is bad is because, people tend to transalate that into other unconnected fields.They tend to think bad either of your education or your upbringing.<br /><br />Most of the time when people ask how much you earn, it is for a wrong reason. The parents, some close friends may ask for a good reason. But they are the minority. The main reason why people ask is that they want to assume for a fleeting moment that their lives are somehow better than the other person. The salary quoted provides them with the scope to demarcate themselves. It also allows them to indirectly advertise their salary, even though no one even asked them and make comments like "Oh you poor thing.Have you considered changing careers?". <br /><br />Oh am not saying i dont want to earn lots of money. Of course i do. But that doesnt mean you get to give your " five mins psych eval". Why do people judge you based on a factor that is decided by completely unrelated parameters?<br /><br />Please dont harp on things related to job/education/marriage all the time. There are nMillion other things to talk about.RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-36560696623212091792010-03-14T22:17:00.002+05:302010-03-14T22:21:38.210+05:30FIRST LOVE- I“They say, when you are eighteen, you have to fall in love with someone. She never thought it would ever happen to her. But still, there was something about that dude that was bothering her. He was not among the most charming guys in the gang. He was not even suave or funny. In fact he was kind of broody and Heathcliff like. Maybe it was his frankness and casual attitude that attracted her – she didn’t know for sure. There was one thing that sent electric shock across her body – his smile. Edison didn’t invent any formulae to calculate how much this version of electricity could affect people!<br /><br />This wasn't a silly crush. She was a grownup now. This was love. True love. She had known him for a year or two and had a crush on him at one point early on. She had spoken with him a couple of times but each time,she found out to her dismay that of all the words available in the English language, she could recollect only ten or fifteen words! All grammatical rules broke down when she looked into his eyes. She didn’t have the courage to go and talk to him about her feelings. She knew he would never go for her. She was plain , pudgy and dorky. To her he was perfection. Time passed by. They became good friends. <br /><br />They were travelling by bus. Looking out the window, she realized her head was beginning to ache. It was ridiculous really, she thought. Why was this so difficult? She thought she was over it. Over him. She glanced down at his hand. Would he ever hold her hand in his? He could so easily reach out and touch her hand right now. <br /><br />Things had changed between them, hadn’t they? He didn’t treat her like that kid he used to hang out with. He was lost in thought. She was different. He knew she had a crush on him when she was a kid. But now things had changed, he was certain of that. But he was uncertain of exactly what those changes meant. He knew she was just as happy as him to have him as her friend. But did he want them to be something more?<br /><br />They walked home from the bus stop both lost in thoughts. He realized how much he depended on her. They reached his apartment. She gave him the slow half smile that was so much a part of her. The smile that accelerated his heartbeat. Without thinking he said “ I don’t know what I would do without you.” She turned to him and said “I think I’ve had feelings for you, for a really longtime.” He edged back mumbled something and disappeared into the house without a word.<br /><br />It was her birthday. She didn’t really want to celebrate. He hadn’t called. Why would he? She had decided to avoid him. It seemed like the longest day she ever had to live through. All she wanted was a book to curl up with in bed. Then he called asked if they could meet. She was nervous. <br /><br />They met at the beach. He laid his hand on her arm, and she was compelled to look back at him. "Are you unhappy?"<br />"No," she said immediately, truthfully. <br />He continued to scan her face as his hand slid down to her wrist. "Are you happy?"<br />She opened her mouth, prepared to answer, then closed it again on a quick sound of frustration. <br /><br />Why must those eyes be on hers, so direct, demanding perfect honesty? They wouldn't accept platitudes or pat answers. "Shouldn't I be?" she countered. His fingers tightened on her wrist as she started to rise. She had no choice but to face him again.<br /><br /> "Are we friends?" he asked. <br /><br />She fumbled for an answer. A simple yes hardly covered the complexities of her feelings for him or the uneven range of their relationship. "Sometimes," she answered cautiously. "Sometimes I don’t know what we are."<br /><br />“Me too” he thought silently. Hadnt he come here wanting to make things right! He couldn’t bear not talking to her. He entwined his fingers with hers, deep in thought.<br /><br />He turned to him and said, “I like you, I really do. I wish we lived in an universe where all that mattered were the feelings of two people. But it wont work out. This is not right. You are too young to understand. I want you to forget this evening. I don’t want to see you or meet you for sometime. Now, Go home."<br /><br />She blinked at him, confused. "What?"<br />"Go home," he repeated in the same frigid tone.<br />Her eyes were suddenly round and eloquent. "Oh, no, I—"<br />"I said go." His words fell like an axe. "I don't want you here."<br />Even as she stared at him, she paled from the hurt. There was nothing, nothing he could have done to wound her more deeply than to send her away. She felt both a rush of angry words and a rush of tears back up in her throat.<br /><br />His words had been the last thing she had thought of before she fell into an exhausted sleep and the first to play in her mind when she awoke. She had been wrong. He didn’t like her.<br /><br />"Why do I like him so much?" she asked herself. "What is it about him that attracts <br />me?" Her brows lowered and she stared into the distance. "Is it his voice, that is musical, and appealingly? Is it his intelligence? His wonderful sense of dry wit? Or is it the way he moves, with such fluidly controlled grace?”RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-1629226935942700802010-02-28T13:25:00.000+05:302010-02-28T13:26:46.751+05:30Arti: Okay this is the limit. I am one step away from going insane. Oh god! Where the hell are you?<br />God: hey waddup!<br />A: Who is it? <br />G: Its me God.. <br />A: God? Where are you.. I cant really see you with all that bright light pointing towards me..<br />G: Oops. Sorry shifted to low watt environment friendly ones. Having trouble adjusting brightness. Just hold on will sms ya.Must be cheaper.Coverage at this time of the night should be good.<br />A: er.. I thought u created the universe and well isn’t light included in it?? <br />G: Of course not, Woman have you forgotten elementary physics? Law of conservation of energy??<br />A: oho! Din know that. Then wats with the “Let there be light” propaganda?<br />G: That. I din come up with it.. The PR guys thought it would be good for my image.<br />A: oh okay. So why you here?<br />G: Didn’t you just summon me. <br />A: Okay that’s weird.. It was jus an expression. Sorry. <br />G: That’s cool np. I was bored anyway. Have been reading this. (points to a huge book)<br />A: Okay that’s huge. Is it a list of all that people want?<br />G: Not really.. Its Shashi Tharoor’s tweet updates. I wanted to know why he gets into trouble all the time. And one point of clarification, me being God and all am not allowed into hell.<br />A: Oh okay I kinda forgot.. it seems to be a verbal crutch these days.. By the way since ur here and all can I ask you something?<br />G: Fire away.<br />A: Who are you? Krishna? Buddha? Jesus? Allah? <br />G: The core of all religions is the same. And the core is me. Interpretations of me vary. But I am constant.<br />A: okay.. if that’s the case people go around fighting about you for what reason? Why don’t ya stop em?<br />G: That’s not how I roll.. I gave you all free will. I don’t have time to babysit each and everyone of you. And to be honest I get a lil bored up here. You guys are my tv you know..<br />A: that’s a little petty for god now isn’t it?<br />G: you shoulda seen how ive screwed over other planets?<br />A: other planets? Okay I don wana know. Is that why ur texting me instead of a vision?<br />G: How do you know this is not a vision?<br />A: Touché god. <br />G: Okay my balance is kinda out. So gtg. Ttyl.RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-72215153354202749132010-02-18T13:40:00.000+05:302010-02-18T13:41:46.112+05:30stereotypesMy friend’s mother recently passes away. H didn’t take it very well. Did not want to work, talk to anyone. We begged, cajoled, threatened. After about a month, went off to work. Had a breakdown in front of the colleagues. But the whole thing was not looked upon kindly by the people at work. Why? As a man he is supposed to be stronger. He doesn’t fit the stereotype. From childhood, girls are allowed to cry and boys are forced not to cry. After a certain age the boy is told, “You are a big boy now. You shouldn’t cry.” Does it mean men aren’t allowed to express emotions? Everyone believes that he/she belongs to a stereotype and may be he/she should just follow that. <br /><br />We as a species are all hypocrites. It’s just that our level of awareness about it differs from person to person. Not so long ago I made a harsh comment about men who cry and how unattractive it is. Now when I think about it I realize I was being as dumb as the people at H’s workplace. <br /><br />Having said that, I am playing devil’s advocate. In today’s cognitive world, stereotypes are just generalizations, for better or worse, the product of everyone’s mind. For most people an essential feature of stereotypes is that they are negative and that is the one reason why they seem so offensive. People want to feel good about themselves and they would like to, more often than not, bolster their confidence by convincing themselves that they are doing much better than their cohorts. <br /><br />Take gender stereotyping. Comments like “You throw like a girl” meant to insult a guy is looked on as a negative stereotype. It is well established that an average man would have better muscle power than an average woman. Does it mean guys who make comments like this are chauvinists? Not really. It’s a way for them to establish rapport. <br /><br />Don’t you think we may have equal number of positive and negative generalizations about people? We tend to label those negative as stereotypes whereas the positive ones are labeled as mere generalizations. This is a reason why people seem to get offended when you tell them they belong to a stereotype. Isn’t it better to fit into a mold rather than not fit anywhere at all? <br /><br />I think it is an innate tendency for the human mind to abstract. It’s easier to group people into different homogeneous segments, than to attempt understanding each one separately. These groups can be anything like "those who go for love marriages" , H1B category, north Indians calling all south Indians “madrasi”.. Yada. Yada. It is just one form of cognition according to me when you are trying to understand someone.. There are as always errors and but it still makes the effort easier for the mind right? <br /><br />I don’t know if stereotyping is right/wrong, makes sense/doesn’t. I just hope people would have better perception of the concept. What do you think?RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-34857700426141340842010-01-18T19:22:00.002+05:302010-01-18T19:24:40.879+05:30Izz all well?Three idiots may or may not be a rip off to chetan bhagat’s original novel, it may have been a real fun to sit through those two and half hours but one line in the movie got me thinking. <br /><br />In one of the scenes of 3 Idiots, Aamir Khan says, “kabhi aap log class main ye soch kar aaye ho ki aaj kuch naya sikhne ko milega, aaj maza aayega”.<br /><br />I hope I got the hindi English typing right. When you think back to your college days, you have a lot of fond memories. You think of pulling pranks, failing tests, falling in love, getting drunk. But for once have you thought of a memorable class you sat through? <br /><br />Most regrettably, students never feel that way. Attending the class is rather an ordeal which they have to face in their quest to get a degree. This is the reason why students loath to attend the classes and the only ‘weapon’ that’s capable enough to shove them into the class is the “Terror of attendance”. <br /><br />In most of the classes students are welcomed with the horror of the powerpoint slides; extremely monotonous, verbose and theoretical. Lecturers and professors just copy paste from e copys of books and just read out in class. There is a saying “example is better than precept”. Until and unless we don’t know how a particular funda is being applied in the lab or in the industry, why the hell should we care to understand it? <br /><br />I teach a cell biology 101 class. In our college 101 classes are those which deal with the basics. In order to make students understand the models of the plasma membrane I likened the structure to a subway sandwich. Believe it or not when the question was asked in the exam paper every single student got it right.. Sure some of them included the analogy, but what matters is most of them got the concept rather than just commit it to memory.<br /><br />Another thing that really bothers me is the focus on campus interviews. Don’t get me wrong am all for 100% placement and all that. But what matters seems to be the final salary p.a rather than the job the person gets. People ask me why I teach. Even my own profs “you are top of your class. You shouldn’t be teaching. Yada yada. ” . The first thing people ask me when I tell them I teach is how much do you earn? That really drives me crazy. Why should it matter to you? My uncle advised me” If today you join a biotech or a pharma firm, in three years you may be earning 3 to 5 times of what you would earn as a lecturer” Thank you Einstein I didn’t know that. I do what I do coz its fun. It’s a challenge everyday.<br /><br />I hope the Indian education system will one day change so that students can learn what they like rather than what others think is good for them. I believe in looking for excellence rather than success. If one is excellent at what one does success is definite to follow. Success should not be because of serendipity but because of conscious and calculated efforts.RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-25745103204969710182009-12-01T17:36:00.001+05:302009-12-01T20:55:19.134+05:30Private health sectorPrivate hospitals are supposed to be better than government hospitals.. Or so goes the myth. my latest experience with them seemed like something out of a bad horror movie.<br />About ten days back my grandmother fell sick.. She just wouldn’t wake up one morning and we had to take her to a hospital.. The first hassle was to find one which would admit her.. Most of them replied saying they din have a bed or that the patient had to be admitted by one of their doctors..Then I called my friend’s mom who is a doctor, explained the situation and Mami went out of her way to help us out..<br /><br />Once the call came from her , the hospital was very accommodating. Wherever my grandmother was taken she was first denied care and later admitted because she was related to someone they know. . So the first lesson I learnt, unless I know someone in the hospital you are not going to admit me..<br /><br />The way the duty doctors and nurses treat the family is ludicrous.. When my father asked one of the doctors what was the situation he gave a bunch of medical terms. Being the only person with a life science background, my family often turns to me when doctors talk “their language”. But when I approached them I was told I wouldn’t understand. Isn’t it your job to make me understand?<br /><br />One would expect the chief doctor to be even more arrogant than the rest of them. But I was pleasantly surprised. He was very down to earth and approachable. He explained things very clearly and gave it to us straight that her chances of survival are not very high. He was very somber and seemed to be the first person who was able to understand our difficulty. The problem was he comes to the ward one hour a day.. The other 23 hrs we have to deal with the duty doctors.. During shift change its hell.. Once doctors suggests a treatment course while the next one denies any knowledge of it..<br /><br />The agony continues even after the person has passed away. She was declared dead at 8.20 p.m. Till 10 00 p.m. we were not given any information. When we went up to the desk we were informed that we cannot take her home until all bill settlements were made and the person who was in charge of billing had gone home!! I was also politely informed by a nurse that there were more tragic deaths happening around me.. Does that mean the pain we feel is less?<br /><br />It’s been almost ten days now and still we haven’t received the death summary which we require to claim the medical insurance. Private medical services in India are supposed to be coming of age. Administrative systems and customer services are even worse than the medical care.<br /><br />Its not something we can avoid. Getting sick and going to the hospital is something I might have face again. But with such horrible administrative system, unsympathetic nurses and doctors who don’t want to take the time to explain their treatment process, I worry if it would help heal a patient or add more stress to it.<br /><br /><br />Oh don’t take me wrong, I respect doctors, infact I have some very close friends who are doctors. I understand their need to be emotionally detached but being in the noblest profession of all shouldn’t people in the health care sector have more empathy?RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-52786195343163051972009-11-01T13:18:00.000+05:302009-11-01T13:19:29.409+05:30SEX!Ah that made most of you sit up right: P! It is probably the most controversial topic that one can talk about. Since we are the “life sciences dept” the responsibility of taking sex education for more than 200 students falls on our department. And unfortunately I was put in charge. Most people do not take this job seriously. They are either embarrassed or fear repercussions. I on the other hand got into the organizing of the series of lectures very enthusiastically. I figured as long we are doing it, let us do it right. I arranged some guest speakers – an OB-GYN, a sexologist and a NGO social worker. I was covering all my bases. <br /><br />The institution in which I work was determined to botch things up. See according to them sex is not something to be discussed about. They think and believe that students do not know anything and they prefer to keep it that way. The only reason they even arrange these seminars is because the university makes it compulsory. <br />They thought that a sexologist was too “controversial” who would corrupt young minds. They asked me to inform the doctor that she could only talk about the anatomy of the reproductive systems and not go into specifics. The social worker was asked to talk about AIDS and other STDs very carefully. The icing on the cake being the only methods of protection we were allowed to discuss was abstinence. <br /><br />What bothered me more than anything is how people are so reluctant to talk about it. I was the only one amongst the staff who didn’t fidget or was embarrassed. I don’t get it. What is the point in having sex ed , if no one is actually going to talk about it. They figure “talking about it gives kids ideas”. I say the kids already have the idea from the television, cinema, books and what not. Even without all that , didn’t Adam and Eve or the cavemen in Neanderthal age “ do it” . Propagation of the species is a trait inbuilt in our DNA.<br /><br />Im not one for pre marital sex or live in relationships but considering the fact that I was a student here for five years I know the different kinds of people who go to school here. Many of them have boyfriends, go away for weekends and I don’t think the institution has a right to judge them. It is their personal choice. Respect that. Teach them values, give them advice but if we don’t inform them about how they could protect themselves , they may end up with STDs or pregnant.<br /><br />The basic problem here is sex is viewed as something which cannot be talked about or even thought of openly. How can teachers, professors or parents impart sex ed to their children or students when they cant talk about it themselves? <br /><br />Universally, prevention is better than cure, but the question remains – is sex education a prevention, a cure or an experiment the result of which is not known .RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-39177591295574886592009-10-04T11:37:00.000+05:302009-10-04T11:38:57.886+05:30Of LOLS and OMGS!!<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CAbhinav%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><link rel="themeData" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CAbhinav%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx"><link 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<br /><o:p></o:p><span style=""> </span>‘Lol I think we must’ve missed each other lol’ Now is the second lol really necessary? When you think about it what about the first one? If you insist on ‘lol’ing surely with such a short sentence one lol would suffice? Or was the incident in which this sentence refers so side splittingly funny that the author burst in to laughter first at the thought of the incident and then upon the exclamation of the incident? And most importantly will lol eventually take over actual laughter in real life? I just have an image in my head of going to watch the latest movie starring Jim Carrey and the whole of the delusional audience exclaiming ‘lol!’ At the site of Carrey’s slap stick comedy.
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<br />I enjoy facebook. On the most part it has been an extremely useful way of getting in touch with old friends, taking generally useless tests to pass the vetti time between one class and another. It is also another way of giving my friends terrible banter in an attempt to embarrass them in front of people who aren’t ‘mutual friends’. I like the idea that it gives everyone a voice and encourage people to get involved with worthy causes, and I like the idea that it’s non-discriminating and promotes multiculturalism. What I don’t like is ‘lol’ing, ‘wtf’ing and ‘omg’ing. What pisses me off even more is the tryin to be subtle about insults like<span style=""> </span>“ F*%K” . Isn’t it easier to jus say fudge, fish or why don’t you just say fuck out right??
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<br />Now, as was pointed out to me quite recently, ‘haha’ makes you sound like a dear old grandma (apparently) and ‘hehe’ing just makes you sound utterly ridiculous. You could write ‘that’s so funny’ but then people ask if<span style=""> </span>you are patronizing them. ‘wtf’ should not be used because an exclamation of this magnitude does not warrant an abbreviation. Im not being a prude. I swear quite freely. But it is something that should be used in dire circumstances. There is no point in saying “ WTF he din score!”. Swearing seems to have become the latest “fab”.<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">
<br />If you’re having a bad day chances are at least 10 % of your face book ‘friends’ are having a bad day as well. The difference is they’re not telling everyone. If you’re having a bad day ring a friend, go for a cup of coffee or jus drink the night away <span style=""> </span>with someone who genuinely cares. It is very unlikely that people are going to show sympathy, especially if you specify what’s wrong. If you change your status to ‘ got yelled at by my boss! Had a depressing day!’ the person who had probably had a day much much worse than you will throw his personal computer off a bridge out of sheer annoyance. Trust me, very few people care. The few that do are on the end of your mobile telephone.
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<br />No photo albums dedicated to new pets. <span style=""> </span>I’m very happy that you’ve finally found love but I don’t need to see 103 photos of the mutt with comments such as ‘lol sooo cute’ underneath. It makes me want to repeatedly hit my head against a brick wall until I can no longer think or act for myself.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I could go on but you all know the other problems. To be fair you can do what you want with facebook. I’m just expressing what countless hundreds of other are thinking every time they see new photo albums called ‘My prince is here and makes me feel less shit about my life lol’. Don’t even get me started on twitter! <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-25765973755375041612009-09-01T23:11:00.001+05:302009-09-01T23:11:16.661+05:30Being popular!<span xmlns=''><p><span style='color:white'>After the last hour of the day, I was gathering my notes and my laptop to head home; I saw one of my students trying to catch up with her friends. This was not an easy task considering she had two huge library books and her meticulously arranged notes. Even as she called out trying to straighten her duppata and push back her glasses, they made their way down the stairs completely ignoring her. She dropped back dejectedly as their plans of heading off to City center echoed clearly through the corridors. Looking at the disappointment in her eyes I desperately wanted to help her, coz looking at her was like looking in a mirror. I was reminded of myself at my first year at college. I wasn't much different from her. <br /></span></p><p><span style='color:white'>I walked upto her and asked her what was wrong. The assessments she said. I was surprised considering she got the highest grade in class. "That's the problem" she countered. I told her that the<span style='font-family:Verdana; font-size:10pt'> smart kids are always unpopular because the other kids envy them for being smart. I wasn't being completely honest. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style='color:white; font-family:Verdana; font-size:10pt'>In most colleges, being smart just didn't matter much. It wasn't something that was admired or despised. All other things being equal, they would have preferred to be on the smart side of average rather than the dumb side, but intelligence counted far less than, say, physical appearance, leadership, or athletic ability. I was the one they came to when they had an assignment deadline or a test on the next day. Not someone with whom they made plans for the weekend.<br /></span></p><p><span style='color:white; font-family:Verdana; font-size:10pt'>Why don't smart kids make themselves popular? If they're so smart, why don't they figure out how popularity works? Im reminded of the scandalous book " How Ophal Metha went wildand got a life". The answer, is we don't want to be "with the crowd." Im not being completely honest. Saying I don't want to be popular is like saying Popeye hated spinach. Of course I wanted to be popular but what I wanted more was to be intelligent. The well liked ones learn to be popular the same way we learned to be smart. Being popular is no cup of tea. It's a lot of work. Popularity isn't just something you are or you aren't, but something you make yourself. <br /></span></p><p><span style='color:white; font-family:Verdana; font-size:10pt'>I explained to her that in future what would help is her being smart. She would get a good job, earn a lot of money and in general be way more happier than them. When the things you do have real effects, it's no longer enough just to be pleasing. It starts to be important to get the right answers, and that's where being smart has an advantage. Because we didn't fit into this world, does not mean something is wrong with us. It means that in some ways we were a step ahead.<br /></span></p><p><span style='color:white; font-family:Verdana; font-size:10pt'>She patiently listened to my line of argument and retorted " I don't want to be popular, I just want to be accepted." Well to that I didn't have an answer. <br /></span></p><p><span style='color:white; font-family:Verdana; font-size:10pt'>I saw her a few days later with a cool backpack, contact lens and a kurti. She was hanging out with a different crowd. A more somber crowd if I may say. She was laughing at what her friend was saying. She turned towards me and gave a blinding grin and mouthed thank you. . As she walked off I remembered how I had steadfastly held on to my principles refusing to bend. I may have been right but it didn't really help me. Maybe she was right. Being popular didn't matter, not as much as acceptance. <br /></span></p></span>RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-22469708105610236912009-08-19T21:29:00.001+05:302009-08-19T21:29:21.606+05:30Betty can do better!<span xmlns=''><p><span style='color:white'>I grew up in a family which encouraged reading books. In fact in this day and age where most people don't read, we as a group might be an exception. Starting from fairy tales upto teenage fiction ive read it all. Sadly one thing was disallowed –Comics books. So while most kids picked them up at the age of maybe 6 or 7, I started out pretty late. The first time I started reading comics was at my friend S's place. You can always find a well read copy Archie's at their kitchen table. I've been hooked to comics since then. <br /></span></p><p><span style='color:white'>What I remember of Archie, I ask myself. For some reason, I realized yesterday that it has been five years now since I finished high school. That makes me feel old. However back then, Archie's Riverdale and the rest were the American dream. This was the beginning of the "dot-com boom" and the "M.S trend". It was our access to anything American before we were "allowed" to watch Hollywood movies.<br /></span></p><p><span style='color:white'>For decades this high school guy has been indecisive when it comes to girls. He could never choose between sweet, blond girl-next-door Betty and raven-haired heiress Veronica. People seem to be outraged on Betty's behalf. Honestly I think she is better off without him. If Veronica accepts, then she is making a big mistake! Who would want Archie? Indecisive, spoilt, not particularly intelligent either. Betty can do better!<br /></span></p><p><span style='color:white'>Most of all I'm disappointed in the story line. It is the biggest cliché there is.. We have seen it all…of course we have our great love stories that romanticize the poor lover: rich girl meets poor boy, they fall in love, she defies her stern dad, they run away and live in penury but happily, dad finally forgives her and they all live happily ever after in daddy's big mansion. <br /></span></p><p><span style='color:white'>MY friend Harsha, argues Comic books are made for the purpose of making people smile and laugh. Nice girls are supposed to finish first in the long run? If so, then how can it be that, after keeping both waiting for 67 years, it's Veronica that comic book hero Archie is finally proposing to, and not Betty? <br /></span></p><p><span style='color:white'>I've always enjoyed Jughead's goofiness, Reggie's vanity, and the love triangle between Archie, Veronica, and Betty. If I were a romantic I would probably pair up Veronica with Reggie and Archie with Betty. Im sorry Harsha, fairy tales and "happily ever after" don't exist.. not even in comic books!</span></p></span>RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-69918407772566424212009-07-25T22:04:00.004+05:302009-07-25T22:32:16.095+05:30KAAPI!<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" xmlns="" ><p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;" > <span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Its wonderful aroma wafts through the air molecules and sinks in to the system while people get up to get their fixes. Or some others wait sleepy eyed at canteens or the roadside shops for that one cup of pure ecstasy. Yes I'm talking abt coffee, or as we call in our dear old madras filter kaapi.</span><br /></span></p><p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span style="font-family:Arial;">Like a typical madrasi, I cannot function in the morning without my cup of filter kaapi. . But till date most of the time when I wake up in the morning there is amma handing me a cuppa. But when mom isn't in town, the wait in the morning is like pure torture. The wonderful aroma, the sounds of the sizzling hot water poured into the filter and of the milk boiling over is what gives you a jump start to the day. when I was younger amma always took me along to buy the coffee from "Leo coffee house" in Usman rd. <span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Those huge coffee bean grinders never failed to fascinate me. The utter casualness with which the coffee beans were poured into the grinders and the seeming ease with which the grinders crushed the coffee beans into "kaapi podi" always unfailingly left me awed. I miss that! These days we buy the coffee powder in packets.<br /></span></span></p><p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;" ><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">CCD has this tagline "A lot can happen over coffee". I agree. Although honestly one doesn't really get the same rush or enjoyment with a cup of cappuccino or an espresso served in mugs or cups and saucers. What we need is the good old davara and tumbler..Piping hot coffee in the glass which would be poured back and forth into and out of the davara for the coffee to slightly cool – just that wee bit so that the coffee did not end up burning ones palate.</span><br /></span></p><p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Sometimes when we are at the beach we walk to this tiny shack and order a 'by-two kaapi'. The sad part is that nowhere else do you feel that love, that feeling of contentment not even when you're sitting in comfy cushions out of the sweltering heat at Barista or Mocha. It's when you hit a shack, order a by-two kaapi, sit on the wooden bench, stretch your legs, pour that coffee into the saucer-like cup, sip, and talk -</span>- </span>you say "aaah there we are!"<br /></span></p><p style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">And what prompted this post? The debate if the world coffee chain conglomerate - Starbucks would soon come to India. As a self-confessed coffee junkie, I say there is no way they can ever replace my shtrong filter kaapi.</span><br /></span></p><p style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Times New Roman;" ><br /> </span> </p></span>RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-61201000157027737652009-07-19T21:46:00.002+05:302009-07-19T22:34:01.762+05:30Harry Potter -HBP- A disappointment" Its more dark and more adult" claimed the tagline. One of the movies that most of us were waiting for this year . But sadly among the many clichés, this year, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince disappoints the truly enthusiastic fan.<br /><br />By the end of the movie , i thought i was watching some teenage love saga!! The subtle romantic byplay between Ron and Hermione was totally lost in the movie and Emma Watson seems to be portrayed as a love sick teenager, not the brilliant teenage prodigy.<br /><br />Music by Nicholas Hooper when compared with the original soundtrack by John Williams does not really bring out the desolate times and is unable to carve out a specific role in the film.<br />The truly disappointing scene was the climax! I wonder what prompted Yates to have Potter stand by without doing anything while Dumbledore was being killed.<br /><br />The scenes included by the director from scratch and that did not feature in the novel, the attack of Bellatrix, collapse of the Millennium Bridge, the initial scene where Harry is seen flirting with the muggle waitress could have been scraped to give room for others. The Gaunt family history and as the descendant of Salazar Slytherin Merope Gaunt has bewitched by a spell Dad Tom Riddle was completely ignored. <span class="fullpost">There is no trace of Hepzibah Smith, owner of Cup or the </span><span class="fullpost">the story of the Half-Blood Prince.<br /><br />I wonder if </span><span class="fullpost">the desire of Yates to lighten the texture in anticipation of turning the final venture more gloomy and dark. Although by emphasising on the "fun" parts in the movie partially emptied the true purpose of the book - to delve deeper into the psych of voldemort. </span><br /><span class="fullpost"><br /><br /></span>RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-65989859107191007112009-06-29T17:21:00.001+05:302009-06-29T17:24:13.357+05:30<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; border-collapse: collapse; font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Climb the walls of insanity,<br />Ride the waves of despair.<br />If you fall it don't matter<br />There's no one to care.<br /><br />Strong is good, weak is bad.<br />Be it false, be it true.<br />Your mind makes the choice,<br />And enforces it too.<br /><br />Hide the pain, carry on,<br />Routine is the key.<br />Don't let on that you're not,<br />What you're pretending to be.<br /><br />Lock it all up inside you,<br />How badly that bodes.<br />Look out for that one day,<br />When it all just explodes.<br /><br />Leaving naught but a shell,<br />Base functionality too.<br />But killing all else,<br />That was uniquely you.<br /><br />So how do you grow,<br />With a timebomb inside?<br />Or how to defuse it,<br />Without destroying its ride?<br /></span></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">You can't. It will finally destroy you!</span></span></span></div>RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6022673653394177010.post-25382440528961254072009-06-25T12:52:00.005+05:302009-06-25T22:27:57.356+05:30Moments - Part 1<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 11.25pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"></span></span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 150%"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">They say, when you are eighteen, you have to fall in love with someone. She never thought it would ever happen to her. But still, there was something about that dude that was bothering her. He was not among the most charming guys in the gang. He was not even suave or funny. In fact he was kind of broody and Heathcliff like. Maybe it was his frankness and casual attitude that attracted her – she didn’t know for sure. There was one thing that sent electric shock across her body – his smile. Edison didn’t invent any formulae to calculate how much this version of electricity could affect people!</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:150%"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">She had spoken with him a couple of times but each time she found out to her dismay that of all words available in the English language, she could recollect only ten or fifteen words! All grammatical rules broke down when she looked into his eyes. Her friends made fun of her , the class debate champion couldn’t string ten words together to make comprehensive sentences. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:150%"><span class="apple-style-span"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">She didn’t have the courage to go and talk to him about her feelings. </span></span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">She knew he would never go for her.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> She was plain , pudgy and kinda dorky. </span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">To her he was perfection. She would never be able to handle a rejection. She loved hanging out with him. She decided it was better to forget all this and be his friend.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:150%"><span class="apple-style-span"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Years went by she went on to become a librarian and he a lawyer. They remained very close friends even though they lived quite apart. She helped him through a bad break-up. He was there when she lost her job. He soon found a job back in his home town. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:0in;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0in;text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><span style=" line-height: 150%; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">--------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></span></span></p><p style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:0in;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0in;text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><span style=" line-height: 150%; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">They were travelling by bus. They had taken to going to temples together every week. Looking out the window, she realized her head was beginning to ache. It was ridiculous really, she thought. Why was this so difficult? She thought she was over it. Over him. She glanced down at his large hand. Would he ever hold her hand in his? He could so easily reach out and touch her hand right now. Things had changed between them, hadn’t they? He didn’t treat her like that kid he used to hang out with.</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:0in;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0in;text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><span style=" line-height: 150%; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">He was lost in thought. She was different. He knew she had a crush on him when she was a kid</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">. But now t</span></span></i></span><span style=" line-height: 150%; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">hings had changed, he was certain of that. But he was uncertain of exactly what those changes meant. He knew she was just as happy as him to have him as her friend. But did he want them to be something more?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:150%"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:150%"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">His car broke down on his way back home. The car had to be towed. He could take a bus back home. But he pulled out his cell phone and called her. He didn’t think if the reasoning was right. He didn’t think if she would mind coming out here to get him. She came without hesitation. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 150%;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The drive back was silent. They were both lost in thoughts. He realized how much he depended on her. How much he needed her. They reached his apartment. She gave him the slow half smile that</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 150%;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">was so much a part of her. The smile that accelerated his heartbeat. Without thinking he leaned down and kissed her forehead. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 150%;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 150%;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">She turned to him and said “ I think ive had feelings for u, for a really longtime.” </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:150%"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:150%"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p></span><p></p>RThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13889034654764397742noreply@blogger.com3