<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5511030648165950116</id><updated>2011-12-29T06:52:24.043-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Experiencing Life"</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5511030648165950116/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Harshu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943430442352854504</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TL_tk9bBvLI/AAAAAAAAACg/FGKD1OWW62w/S220/young-hr-writer.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5511030648165950116.post-8438901809504613501</id><published>2011-12-26T00:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-28T10:29:15.999-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Bucket List</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"&gt;Things&amp;nbsp;I'd like to give a shot , before I die-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xp0GZh3SqmI/TvhC87vUSGI/AAAAAAAAAJk/UQB_7a8HFbc/s1600/Bucketks2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="263" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xp0GZh3SqmI/TvhC87vUSGI/AAAAAAAAAJk/UQB_7a8HFbc/s400/Bucketks2.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ol style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Pretend to be someone else for at least a month&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Upload a stupid Video on YouTube and get 10 Million hits&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Take mom for a&amp;nbsp;foreign&amp;nbsp;tour before I get married&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Write a Best seller&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Get an autograph of Sachin Tendulkar &amp;amp; Nelson Mandela&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Win a lottery&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Spend a week in some remote village without technology and gadgets&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Bull Riding&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Eat in a fine hotel &amp;amp;; run away without paying&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Play Poker for real with the James Bond attitude&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Give a spectacular Salsa performance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Watch a Killer horror film in 3D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Rob a bank , and don't get caught&lt;span style="text-align: left;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: left;"&gt;Learn a Kick ass language that people find amusing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: left;"&gt;Get a Bald look to see if it suits me&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;CONT....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5511030648165950116-8438901809504613501?l=harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/feeds/8438901809504613501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/2011/12/my-bucket-list.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5511030648165950116/posts/default/8438901809504613501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5511030648165950116/posts/default/8438901809504613501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/2011/12/my-bucket-list.html' title='My Bucket List'/><author><name>Harshu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943430442352854504</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TL_tk9bBvLI/AAAAAAAAACg/FGKD1OWW62w/S220/young-hr-writer.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xp0GZh3SqmI/TvhC87vUSGI/AAAAAAAAAJk/UQB_7a8HFbc/s72-c/Bucketks2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5511030648165950116.post-1092365421111268669</id><published>2011-12-22T02:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-22T04:15:47.668-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Forever</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"&gt;Just Forever&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KDQpNLRlnG4/TvMeRjHsn5I/AAAAAAAAAJY/8dokOeSg-18/s1600/man%252Cwoman%252Cretro%252Cb%252Cw%252Cbeautiful%252Cblack%252Cand%252Cwhite%252Cphotog%252Ctwo%252Cblack%252Cand%252Cwhite-edd4e4cda3b708308372c7abedcac4df_h.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KDQpNLRlnG4/TvMeRjHsn5I/AAAAAAAAAJY/8dokOeSg-18/s1600/man%252Cwoman%252Cretro%252Cb%252Cw%252Cbeautiful%252Cblack%252Cand%252Cwhite%252Cphotog%252Ctwo%252Cblack%252Cand%252Cwhite-edd4e4cda3b708308372c7abedcac4df_h.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5511030648165950116-1092365421111268669?l=harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/feeds/1092365421111268669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/2011/12/just-forever.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5511030648165950116/posts/default/1092365421111268669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5511030648165950116/posts/default/1092365421111268669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/2011/12/just-forever.html' title='Just Forever'/><author><name>Harshu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943430442352854504</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TL_tk9bBvLI/AAAAAAAAACg/FGKD1OWW62w/S220/young-hr-writer.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KDQpNLRlnG4/TvMeRjHsn5I/AAAAAAAAAJY/8dokOeSg-18/s72-c/man%252Cwoman%252Cretro%252Cb%252Cw%252Cbeautiful%252Cblack%252Cand%252Cwhite%252Cphotog%252Ctwo%252Cblack%252Cand%252Cwhite-edd4e4cda3b708308372c7abedcac4df_h.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5511030648165950116.post-1121744308316902609</id><published>2011-12-13T23:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-22T02:26:18.215-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Thoughts Part III</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt; An Old Dress in her closet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; The door opened and yet again her colorful closet came in light. She looked at it with&amp;nbsp;self&amp;nbsp;admiration as now she has a variety of clothes to choose from.Perhaps, more than one for every given occasion. Her wardrobe clearly reflects her personality. Colorful, moody and unpredictable. She has all unique colors in her wardrobe hot pink, tangerine ,honeydew , teal and even colors she might never wear. Among all the dresses, their lies a black dress in the corner of the closet. Once it was her&amp;nbsp;favorite. She has it for quite a long time now. In her golden days, she wore it like her skin. The first dress she ever bought for herself , which reflected her&amp;nbsp;personality&amp;nbsp;in all moods.Like they were made for&amp;nbsp;each other.The dress which was made to make her feel like HERSELF.She had some most&amp;nbsp;rejoicing memories in it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Unfortunately, that time is gone now. Ever since someone pointed out that the dress is old enough to retire and that she&amp;nbsp;doesn't&amp;nbsp;look any good &amp;nbsp;in it, she stopped wearing it ,she moved on. However, she&amp;nbsp;couldn't&amp;nbsp;throw it away. Its hard to keep every dress forever , but she kept this one after all it was her favorite dress. Its been ages &amp;amp; she&amp;nbsp;hasn't&amp;nbsp;even laid her eyes on it. Perhaps someday she'll notice it, she might even wear to see if it still fits or just to&amp;nbsp;relive&amp;nbsp;her past for a few moments.She shall wear it or not, one thing is for certain: Her golden time is gone, she might keep the dress&amp;nbsp;forever, but she cannot have that time back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ud1b-eF0OZU/Tue8pUslmCI/AAAAAAAAAH0/XHtpx0LsoL0/s1600/closet-clothes-fashion-girl-shoes-Favim.com-104431.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="398" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ud1b-eF0OZU/Tue8pUslmCI/AAAAAAAAAH0/XHtpx0LsoL0/s400/closet-clothes-fashion-girl-shoes-Favim.com-104431.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; That old dress kind of reminds me of an old relationship. Its funny, how time passes by and we&amp;nbsp;don't&amp;nbsp;even&amp;nbsp;realize&amp;nbsp;that we have forgotten so many relationships.&amp;nbsp;Relationships&amp;nbsp;that mattered once,&amp;nbsp;relationships&amp;nbsp;that served their time. Its indeed very hard to keep every relation forever , but some relations have a long duration, they stay almost forever. We may not be together now, but we still have a place in&amp;nbsp;each other's heart. We had our time and we'll cherish it&amp;nbsp;forever.&amp;nbsp;Our busy lives may not give us enough time to think about&amp;nbsp;each other&amp;nbsp;, but we know that someday when in leisure we'll open the closet , the other one will be waiting there.(At least&amp;nbsp;that's&amp;nbsp;what I believe and hope) Many times I wonder, why the relationship ended ? Did someone pointed to her that we&amp;nbsp;don't&amp;nbsp;look good together? or even worse, was I even her favorite dress?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5511030648165950116-1121744308316902609?l=harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/feeds/1121744308316902609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/2011/12/random-thoughts-part-iii.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5511030648165950116/posts/default/1121744308316902609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5511030648165950116/posts/default/1121744308316902609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/2011/12/random-thoughts-part-iii.html' title='Random Thoughts Part III'/><author><name>Harshu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943430442352854504</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TL_tk9bBvLI/AAAAAAAAACg/FGKD1OWW62w/S220/young-hr-writer.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ud1b-eF0OZU/Tue8pUslmCI/AAAAAAAAAH0/XHtpx0LsoL0/s72-c/closet-clothes-fashion-girl-shoes-Favim.com-104431.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5511030648165950116.post-3753472976657722863</id><published>2011-12-07T12:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-22T02:24:28.365-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Thoughts Part II</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;A moment forever&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Date-20th July-11&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Time- 5.15 PM&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Place- Shimla&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt; As I stare outside the window, I see fog covering every inch in the vicinity. A train of thoughts stirs my mind. I&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;couldn't&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;help but express my state in ink as I sit alone in my room practically a thousand miles away from my home. Its hard to recall when was the last time I Shared such a peaceful time with myself. Miles away from home, alone with a cup of coffee and above all happy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; I shifted my gaze to look for something inside the room. Aah!! a half empty bottle of Blender's Pride Whiskey. Last night it was full. Empty&amp;nbsp;alcohol&amp;nbsp;bottles are always full with stories and the one in my front is no exception. One of my room partners spent the last day in despair, perhaps he was missing someone. Though he&amp;nbsp;preferred&amp;nbsp;to share his mood with the whiskey and not me, I&amp;nbsp;didn't&amp;nbsp;mind as we are not two hands yet.But I hope he would eventually tell me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_t4YLEAyzIs/Tt_M_n4gxVI/AAAAAAAAAHc/VWniSFWIxKA/s1600/DSC_5601+copy+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="257" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_t4YLEAyzIs/Tt_M_n4gxVI/AAAAAAAAAHc/VWniSFWIxKA/s320/DSC_5601+copy+%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;My deepest fears are surfacing again as&amp;nbsp;loneliness favors them more often. I am all by myself and even though high fever&amp;nbsp;doesn't&amp;nbsp;favor me with the pen, I still hope to get things out of me while am at it. At times like this when I feel&amp;nbsp;bond-less&amp;nbsp;and free, I literary forget everything except the moment I'm in. It helps me know myself better and keep me updated about myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;I had never thought I'd be here alone at any point but it is happening and once again I feel elated with the surprise life gave me. Certainly,&amp;nbsp;uncertainty is the best part of life&amp;nbsp; I recall how randomly I visited a site which&amp;nbsp;gave me an opportunity to be in Shimla for 10 days with a learning&amp;nbsp;experience.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; I feel weird as I keep looking at the ceiling again and again but there are no fans in Shimla. The drop dead silence around me is somehow freaking me out as everything in this room but my soul is at unease.But this uneasiness has a touch of comfort as I feel freaked out, alone, strong, weird and&lt;b&gt; HAPPY,&lt;/b&gt; all at the same time.This moment might not mean anything to someone who goes through it while I show it off, but it gives me a lifetime memory. A memory when I knew I'm exactly where I want to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: arial; text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5511030648165950116-3753472976657722863?l=harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/feeds/3753472976657722863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/2011/12/random-thoughts-part-ii.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5511030648165950116/posts/default/3753472976657722863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5511030648165950116/posts/default/3753472976657722863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/2011/12/random-thoughts-part-ii.html' title='Random Thoughts Part II'/><author><name>Harshu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943430442352854504</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TL_tk9bBvLI/AAAAAAAAACg/FGKD1OWW62w/S220/young-hr-writer.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_t4YLEAyzIs/Tt_M_n4gxVI/AAAAAAAAAHc/VWniSFWIxKA/s72-c/DSC_5601+copy+%25281%2529.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5511030648165950116.post-270608726274376758</id><published>2011-12-01T13:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-02T09:49:16.371-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Thoughts Part I</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;All things come back to Square One&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;M&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;iracles, do they happen?Is there a Supreme power?Is the concept of God,&amp;nbsp;Man-made? Once in a while we hear the news that something unbelievable happened. Things which science fails to explain. I am kind of person who believes in science more than anything else. I had never seen any miracle till I was seven. Long back when idols of Lord Ganesha started accepting milk all over the country. Scientist explained the theory as: the idols were made of clay which was absorbing the liquid, and it isn’t a miracle. I could have believed them blindly, but the idol back at my home were metallic. I myself fed &amp;nbsp;milk to the idol and it accepted it. That was the day when I was forced to believe that some things in this world can’t be explained by science and that some super natural powers do exist, we believe in them or not. Most of the times we fail to understand ourselves, understanding god is far away from our reach.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O6JqyWJH9CA/TtkPDyOfZvI/AAAAAAAAAHM/0Wu92Gc_7q8/s1600/Untitled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="168" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O6JqyWJH9CA/TtkPDyOfZvI/AAAAAAAAAHM/0Wu92Gc_7q8/s400/Untitled.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Destiny is another mystery for me. Some says we create our own destiny, some says it’s predestined I have considered all the possibilities and reached the conclusion that it’s predestined.&amp;nbsp;Of course I can’t force others follow my thought.But I surely can walk you through what I've observed .We all are borne with equal capabilities. By "all" here I mean the larger part of the society.Speaking rationally , initially we all have equal possibilities to reach the top, considering the hard work and the devotion for our passion. Still, considerably a smaller section of the human kind had conquered the world . Of course they must have worked hard, but does it mean that they are the most deserving and hardworking and devoted people in the world? I leave this question for a while.You know that statistically the chances of finding THE ONE is "One in Seven Billion",you have more chances of winning a lottery. Ain't it destiny which plans and forces us to be at the exact place where we might find the one for us?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Now consider this, have you ever planned something properly and still everything went to vain? Ever worked hard for something and didn’t get through?Ever, half-heartedly tried to do something and still succeeded? Don’t you think these things were destined?&amp;nbsp;Perhaps here you could defend the occurrence of the &amp;nbsp;incidents saying that, it happened because you were lucky or unlucky. That raises another question, what’s luck? Don’t you feel lucky or unlucky every now and then?They say our&amp;nbsp;destiny&amp;nbsp;depends on the choices we make, but what if our choices are also destined?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; I thought about this &amp;nbsp;thing for a long time, considered many examples and then I finally made a way out. Yes, I am a man of destiny and&amp;nbsp;everything&amp;nbsp;is predestined, was the conclusion. Here is my theory:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Consider it for a while that everything is not predestined&amp;nbsp;and you are supposed to write your own destiny. Now, since you work hard and very dedicated towards your work, you succeed,&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;Congratulations!!!&lt;/b&gt;. You got promoted to another city or may be to another country. You are all set to take the next step. Everything is going fine and life is moving the way you wanted. But suddenly you fall ill (here I am not creating obstacles, you know its natural and it happens) and, you had to step back. Now at the other end your competitor and probably less deserving got a chance. It was not a choice that you made, but it eventually happened to you.You are bound to be somewhere because your destiny wants you to be their.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; The second assumption would be considering that everything is already written. You worked hard, you succeeded, and you got promotion. Fallen ill, had to step back. You stopped believing in destiny (because you thought it would lead you to something good but it&amp;nbsp;didn't&amp;nbsp;). Now, since you have stopped believing in fate. You’ll probably rely on more hard work and devotion to get what you want. But, the fact still remains the same, i.e. your life is predestined. You will get what is written, even if you do not believe in it. People get what is written the easy way or the harder way. Even if you stop believing in destiny, this particular thought has also something to do with your destiny. Like in the above case, you got it all when fate hurt your beliefs, but ultimately got only what was written. This concept is like gravity, you believe it or not, it affects and runs your life. Not believing in it is like not believing in gravity. You can create your destiny only and only if it’s predestined&amp;nbsp;that you will follow your dream path and create it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cAzkPzucpq8/Ttfs7O8UoEI/AAAAAAAAAGs/2J46rppRaf4/s1600/destiny-goals-dreams-stuff-cubby-demotivational-poster-1289959975.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cAzkPzucpq8/Ttfs7O8UoEI/AAAAAAAAAGs/2J46rppRaf4/s320/destiny-goals-dreams-stuff-cubby-demotivational-poster-1289959975.jpg" width="264" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;I came across this incredible book &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;THE SECRET&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;by&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;RHONDA BYRNE&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt; , it says you can achieve whatever you what and indeed it is a truth. But to my surprise not everyone is able to understand the concept behind it. Not everyone relates to it and it&amp;nbsp;doesn't&amp;nbsp;work for everyone.It is a book that changes life but only for those people who have this change in&amp;nbsp;their&amp;nbsp;destiny.Again I was forced to believe that its all already written.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Most people believe in hard work and not destiny but&amp;nbsp;I convinced myself that&amp;nbsp;hard work&amp;nbsp;consoles you &amp;nbsp;when you know there is no way out.It gives us hope.It was difficult for me to accept that the good, the bad and the unexpected is all already written. I am more&amp;nbsp;perplexed&amp;nbsp;than ever,&amp;nbsp;perhaps&amp;nbsp;am wrong for I know one thing for sure , once in a while&amp;nbsp;everything&amp;nbsp;comes back to square one with the same question.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Is everything really Pre-destined?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5511030648165950116-270608726274376758?l=harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/feeds/270608726274376758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/2011/12/random-thoughts-part-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5511030648165950116/posts/default/270608726274376758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5511030648165950116/posts/default/270608726274376758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/2011/12/random-thoughts-part-i.html' title='Random Thoughts Part I'/><author><name>Harshu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943430442352854504</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TL_tk9bBvLI/AAAAAAAAACg/FGKD1OWW62w/S220/young-hr-writer.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O6JqyWJH9CA/TtkPDyOfZvI/AAAAAAAAAHM/0Wu92Gc_7q8/s72-c/Untitled.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5511030648165950116.post-3172936115163672759</id><published>2010-12-16T02:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-15T08:00:11.083-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: orange;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: orange;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;One&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span style="color: white;"&gt;D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: white;"&gt;ay&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: #38761d;"&gt;M&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #38761d;"&gt;ataram?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Vande Mataram, two words of sincere devotion, our national song composed by renowned poet &lt;strong&gt;Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay&lt;/strong&gt;, a song known to every single Indian. But it would not be inappropriate to say that, our national song is sung only for 24 hours, twice in a year. Calling ourselves Indian we feel proud, and celebrate our freedom like never before. Freedom is indeed a privilege, but not valuing it is a sin. The paradigm for the above context can be seen every &lt;strong&gt;16th August or 27th January&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;nbsp;in almost every state in India. It is quite a disappointing fact that the zeal for independence doesn’t last long in our souls as one could see our national flag lying on roads the very next day. How proud do we feel when we see a National flag lying on road? Does the enthusiasm and respect for national flag die after the Independence Day? &lt;/span&gt;﻿﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TQnzN5zHMHI/AAAAAAAAADY/nHGoYkZJMAI/s1600/india%252520flag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="256" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TQnzN5zHMHI/AAAAAAAAADY/nHGoYkZJMAI/s320/india%252520flag.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; We often get sentimental when it comes to our nations’ pride, but guilt after watching our flag on sidewalks never bothers us. We always feel honoured being a part of the most diversified country of the world, our culture and our colorfulness. Then how can we be so ignorant to Our tricolor Flag? &lt;strong&gt;“I bow to thee, mother”&lt;/strong&gt; is what Vande mataram means, and no doubt we respect our motherland but, are these words impactful only for one day?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Only a &lt;strong&gt;One-day mataram?&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;﻿﻿﻿&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"&gt;﻿ &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TQnvcr95QMI/AAAAAAAAADU/mMN-QG5RAII/s1600/Image0198.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TQnvcr95QMI/AAAAAAAAADU/mMN-QG5RAII/s200/Image0198.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;Photo:- Swati Sevlani&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"&gt;﻿&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;As a matter of fact plastic flags were banned in many state once, but a proper business of plastic flags during the independence days is still at boom. Considering the esteem of the nation and the national flag, the small scale business of flags should be banned. This would surely affect a few people but what should be given importance is,&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; Our flag in few hands and everyone respecting it, not a flag in every hand and only a few people respecting it&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. The most painful part is, that every single person blame others for not respecting the flag but nobody bothers to take the reponsibility and everybody is busy in blaming the system for not being fair. Don't let Our national lie on roads, not today not tommorow not ever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"&gt;﻿﻿ &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style="background-color: white;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; "RESPECT OUR NATIONAL FLAG"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Requisitionist - Harshit Sharma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5511030648165950116-3172936115163672759?l=harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/feeds/3172936115163672759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/2010/12/one-day-mataram.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5511030648165950116/posts/default/3172936115163672759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5511030648165950116/posts/default/3172936115163672759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/2010/12/one-day-mataram.html' title=''/><author><name>Harshu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943430442352854504</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TL_tk9bBvLI/AAAAAAAAACg/FGKD1OWW62w/S220/young-hr-writer.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TQnzN5zHMHI/AAAAAAAAADY/nHGoYkZJMAI/s72-c/india%252520flag.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5511030648165950116.post-3737575857115308559</id><published>2010-11-22T22:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T01:55:24.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Guzaarish - Film Review</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: large;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Guzaarish - Film Review&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TOtgPiGLq0I/AAAAAAAAADM/a5L8Icv8DcM/s1600/99264-poster-of-the-movie-guzaarish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="256" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TOtgPiGLq0I/AAAAAAAAADM/a5L8Icv8DcM/s320/99264-poster-of-the-movie-guzaarish.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;em&gt; “Life is short, so break the rules, forgive quickly, kiss slowly, love truly, Laugh loudly, and never regret anything that made you smile”.&lt;/em&gt; Haven’t we already read this message many times in our inboxes? But, this weeks’ release much awaited Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s film ‘Guzaarish ‘explains this message thoroughly. The protagonist Ethan Mascarenhas (Hrithik Roshan), a well known magician from Goa is a quadriplegic sufferer since last 14 years after an accident occurred to him in his own show. Now, Ethan is an inspirational radio jockey and a writer as well. In these years of pain he hasn’t lost his&amp;nbsp;lust&amp;nbsp;to&amp;nbsp;live , but the unimaginable pain has abated his zeal to&amp;nbsp;survive anymore&amp;nbsp;and now Ethan wants to embrace death with no regrets. Euthanasia is the medical term for mercy-killing which Ethan demands from the court. His best friend and lawyer Devyani (Shernaz Patel) helps him in his “Project Euthanasia”.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Although the subject is not new for Cinema lovers, but it’s the performances which makes it a worth watch. One can recall scenes from 'The English Patient' at times but both the movies are set in different backgrounds and deals with different subjects. The portrayal of Ethan’s character shows how hard Bhansali and his team has studied it.A roof mirror reflecting the image of his helplessness surrounded by framed pictures of his beautiful memories gives a perfect contrast. The film becomes nostalgic at times when Omar Siddiqui (Aditya Roy Kapoor) requests Ethan to teach him magic and&amp;nbsp;Ethan goes back in his life and recollect the memories of what he was. . After the magician Hrithik&amp;nbsp;gets paralyzed, the magic of Hrithik’s acting starts. Aishwarya Rai Bacchan as Sofia D’souza, the nurse has done justice to her character (though she looks over glamorous all the time), but Hrithik as Ethan steals the show from the beginning. It’s a comeback movie for both Bhansali and Hrithik after the disastrous failure of Saawariya and Kites respectively. Extending his versatility to one more step, Bhansali has also directed the music of this movie, which is average but some songs are really beautifully composed. The Art direction by Sumit Basu is plus point of the movie. The story has nothing to hide and nothing to tell,&amp;nbsp;except the end.&amp;nbsp;There are enough eye wetting scenes in the movie and the cinematography is also praiseworthy. Although the film has many strong points but it cannot be watched more than time, or may be two I doubt. More than half of the film is shot in a room. The film is far away from a masterpiece, moreover fits into the modern&amp;nbsp;Bollywood&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;"Diseased Cinema" &lt;/b&gt;category&amp;nbsp;in which the lead character is a sufferer. The film has many loop holes but from the audience point of view can be ignored.&amp;nbsp;At a stage film becomes Climax oriented which indeed makes it slow but &amp;nbsp;from the art point of view it is ahead of other movies released in 2010 .The film certainly looks Hollywood inspired but fortunately the treatment is Indian. Many dialogues are in English which seems relevant and sensible. The film may not gather all kind of audiences unlike Harry Potter but it’s a onetime good watch.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5511030648165950116-3737575857115308559?l=harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/feeds/3737575857115308559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/2010/11/guzaarish-film-review.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5511030648165950116/posts/default/3737575857115308559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5511030648165950116/posts/default/3737575857115308559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/2010/11/guzaarish-film-review.html' title='Guzaarish - Film Review'/><author><name>Harshu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943430442352854504</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TL_tk9bBvLI/AAAAAAAAACg/FGKD1OWW62w/S220/young-hr-writer.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TOtgPiGLq0I/AAAAAAAAADM/a5L8Icv8DcM/s72-c/99264-poster-of-the-movie-guzaarish.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5511030648165950116.post-835096708741918714</id><published>2010-10-29T09:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-03T00:13:41.796-07:00</updated><title type='text'>REVIEW: THE TRAVELER'S GIFT</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #999999;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: #134f5c; font-size: large;"&gt;REVIEW: THE TRAVELER’S GIFT BY ANDY ANDREWS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TMqJI0w2JFI/AAAAAAAAADI/glVbCrfK-RI/s1600/3966-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" nx="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TMqJI0w2JFI/AAAAAAAAADI/glVbCrfK-RI/s320/3966-1.jpg" width="205" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The novel starts with a familiar background and doesn’t leave an impression until you&amp;nbsp;reach Page 15. Once you are at Page 15, you would not want the book to end. David Ponder the protagonist wakes up at a strange place after he attempts a car suicide to get his family the insurance money. His family condition is not good and his daughter needs an operation. He cowardly&amp;nbsp;decides that suicide is the best choice. The place where he wakes up, is Harry Truman’s room, he discovers that things are not normal as the date he notices is 24th July 1945. Truman is one of those important persons who took one the most historical decisions.Truman is getting ready for&amp;nbsp;a meeting with W.Churchill and Stalin,who are about to take the decision of dropping the bomb on Japan during World War II. After an interesting conversation with David, Truman handover him a letter with, THE FIRST DECISION FOR SUCCESS written on top. David reads the letter and disappears, just like that. He next finds himself in a majestic palace, after a little bit of searching he discovers that he is at the King Solomon;s palace.&amp;nbsp; Surprisingly,&amp;nbsp;Solomon is also about to take his most famous decision, a historical decision. After taking the decision the king personally addresses David. On an interesting note, only he is able to see David. He also gives a letter to David which of course is THE SECOND DECISION FOR SUCCESS. David reads the letter and&amp;nbsp;disappears&amp;nbsp;again. Five more such episodes follows and David&amp;nbsp;collects&amp;nbsp;a total of seven letters which changes his life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The author of the novel Andy Andrews has served philosophy of life in a very beautiful manner. It’s an inspirational mystery and the seven decisions relate to every single human emotion. The way with which the story moves forward is remarkably extraordinary. It’s a journey to the history with&amp;nbsp;a glimpse&amp;nbsp;of changing future. The selection of the seven characters each for one episode shows Andy’s research behind the novel. Although the novel in not climax oriented, yet is readable to the last word. There is always a curiosity, what’s next?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; More often it is seen that inspirational novels are not received well at the readers end because of the similar content, but his writing crosses this barrier with his strong storytelling and a never before served content. This is a novel which talks to you and helps you discover your own flaws. The book cover announces, Good Morning America – READ THIS! I would say, &lt;b&gt;A MUST READ INDEED!!!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Ironically the novel shop owner suggested me to read this novel, and I accepted his suggestion. The novel appears to be a perfect film script which is not too lengthy or lousy. I am surely looking forward to Andy's other novels.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5511030648165950116-835096708741918714?l=harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/feeds/835096708741918714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/2010/10/review-travelers-gift.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5511030648165950116/posts/default/835096708741918714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5511030648165950116/posts/default/835096708741918714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/2010/10/review-travelers-gift.html' title='REVIEW: THE TRAVELER&apos;S GIFT'/><author><name>Harshu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943430442352854504</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TL_tk9bBvLI/AAAAAAAAACg/FGKD1OWW62w/S220/young-hr-writer.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TMqJI0w2JFI/AAAAAAAAADI/glVbCrfK-RI/s72-c/3966-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5511030648165950116.post-8110675801182294188</id><published>2010-03-02T07:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-10-08T04:31:05.476-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FEB THE SIXTH</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Feb the Sixth&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TGL9NOyt1HI/AAAAAAAAACM/95LUVDdejQg/s1600/myu.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TGL9NOyt1HI/AAAAAAAAACM/95LUVDdejQg/s400/myu.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; February 6th 2009 ,possibly one of the most happening and memorable days of my life. I had already foreseen that next 24 hours are going to be interesting, but I wasn’t expecting a futiguingly hectic day at all. It was no lesser than a movie scene, a series of scenes rather.&lt;br /&gt;It started when I went to Mumbai for the first time since puberty. Initially, I was in Pune for my interview for a well known Institution but&amp;nbsp;couldn't&amp;nbsp;make it because I am not a girl. However, I was happy I couldn’t make it. They selected 53 girls out of 64 total seats and moreover work experience was required(that 's how I consoled myself)&lt;br /&gt;On friends' request I decided to visit Mumbai with them. After searching for about 30 minutes we got a Van to Mumbai which surely was less costly than others we enquired 30 mins before. We&amp;nbsp;weren't&amp;nbsp;alone on our way and probably to make our day more complicated, irregular and surreal a few irregular personalities were needed. Before we four arrived at the not so welcoming &lt;b&gt;'City of Dreams', Mumbai,&lt;/b&gt; we encountered a Pimp, (a junior pimp&amp;nbsp;in fact&amp;nbsp;), a diet consultant and others in the same Van . That Pimp &amp;nbsp;guy was a jerk, a complete moron who was enough qualified for the job. After all what qualification such jobs need, may be a onetime bed experience with 10 girls and contact with a few more pimps can make it happen.And yes it is Job. I was the youngest inside the van and probably the least interested person in women (for spending a night).&lt;br /&gt;It was this short 3 hour journey which made me think that I am going to have an interesting day because the guys in the Van were not only weird but appealing and alive at the same time. I still cannot forget the whining laugh of that junior Pimp, he was a fun loving man, I wondered what's fun for him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few requests he agreed to give a girl's number to everyone in the Van and warned everyone not to call her before she replies your message as her father&amp;nbsp;doesn't&amp;nbsp;know about her side business. Everyone nodded (except me), I suppose I was the only guy in the van who never had sex, a dumb guy as the pimp quoted but he also appreciated it as Sex is like a drug, you get addicted to it and then it slowly ruins your life. His words appealed to me, he was sounding like a mature person. He couldn’t escape it all even if he tried, no wonder he never gave it a try. He wasn’t satisfied but happy.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; While everyone was busy making plans for the day. I peeped inside me, hunting for the answers of few questions which I faced before, but never dared to answer. This was the moment I got the answer, not everyone who is satisfied is happy and vice-versa. For me being happy is being satisfied but surprisingly I never reached a stage when I could say I am satisfied now. Apparently, we always need something to move on, we cannot sit ideally in the veil of satisfaction and that’s human nature. So I eventually reached the conclusion &amp;nbsp;that I won’t discuss this satisfaction factor anymore as I hate being confused but still remain in the same mode mostly.So there is no point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; We reached Mumbai around 1.30 am and no sooner we enquired that the last train for Borivali is at 1.40 a.m. we started running. But it wasn’t easy as we had two luggage bags with us, we had to run 700 meters cross a bridge and catch the train in 10 mins without thinking of anything. No words, only action could make it possible for us. And it did. It was a mind freaking chase, I almost missed the train but I think it was worth it as we travelled for free. The train was on time, it was 2.20 a.m. when we reached Borivali. My friend’s cousin received us with open heart and then I realized that I was in Pune 8 hrs back, planning back to Indore and now I am in Mumbai without telling grandpa at home that I am here, I like this thing about life,&lt;/div&gt;uncertainty. You never know what’s going to happen. You decide to commit suicide and jump from the top of a multistory building and when you reach the ground, you find yourself beside your bed on the floor and then you realize it was a nightmare. Such is life, a dream which can break any moment, so I decided to live it with the moment. I must mention that whatever you read or hear about Mumbai is&amp;nbsp;predicatively&amp;nbsp;correct. Mumbai is a thought provoking city; if you are in Mumbai, not only good dreams but nightmares do come true as well.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; When we reached the cousin’s flat, we were almost fatigue and our muscles were demanding rest. So I allowed them to sleep while I was still awake and thinking about the journey. My friends were planning to call the girl. The prime reason for which we were in Mumbai was, shopping. On Friday nights they arrange a market where you can find any possible thing which you can call fashionable but there is a secret not to be told to everyone and yet everybody knows, this was a thief market&amp;nbsp;which starts before dawn and closes in the morning around 8am . Keeping the reputation of the market in mind we decided to carry only one mobile with us. To be specific the market starts at 4 a.m. and one who wishes to buy some good stuff reaches their by 3.45am before the market opens.&lt;br /&gt;We got ready at 3.15 am sharp that means only an hour of rest. And reached their by train at 4.00 am sharp.&lt;br /&gt;No doubt it was cheaper than any other place in Mumbai and here one can see true slum of India. The market was like a MELA and it’s next to impossible for a new comer to locate the exact place to find stuff. We took 3 damn hours to buy 6 pair of shoes and a few jeans. But those 3 hours weren’t easy as we lost each other in the mid of the market and you guessed it right, we only had one cell phone. In the meantime when I was searching for my friends I met few more jerks handling them was like handling untied cows. I searched out everywhere for almost half an hour but no sign of friendliness , all I found was strange men smelling like shit, dying to sell you whatever they can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ultimately when I saw one of my friend, I thought my search is over but even he dint know where the other two were. After searching some more we all were together humanly blaming each other.&lt;br /&gt;We caught a train back to the cousin’s flat and I discovered that my muscles were upset with me, how I could be so ignorant to them. We were like dead men walking with mice starving in their stomach. Not a very good synonym to use here but that’s what we felt at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;I ate and slept for almost 8 hours it was 6.00 p.m. and I had to catch a train to Indore at 6.30 pm. I woke everyone up, they got ready and we all hustled each other in the auto. The auto driver wasn’t a very good man, I thought.As he permitted only 3 of us to sit in the auto , we requested him but he dint agree. Finally we hired another auto to the Railway station but as it was written we got stuck in the MUMBAI TRAFFIC I should call it MUMBAI TERREFIC rather. The station was still half a mile and the clock showed 6.28 pm literally, it was digital. I took my bag and ran hard; friends were following with another bag. At the station I saw a train was pumping up, my heart sank and I hurt a few people in hurry but I had no time to say sorry which I do not regret .I crossed the bridge my friend almost parallel to me and we both were chasing the train.&lt;br /&gt;My smart friend shouted as I was struggling with the bag ,”Leave the bag and run fast” I left the bag thinking that he’ll pick it up. To my wonder he started running faster than me and almost defeated me if it was a race, but it wasn’t. I looked at him to make sure he is carrying my bag but his hands were free.&lt;br /&gt;I turned and my bag was lying on the ground 50 feet back. I ran back collected the bag and the train was gone. I sighed and of course I was upset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I enquired and somebody told me it was not my train and my train is yet to arrive .I gave a mixed response and turned to my friend, smiled and said it wasn’t my train. But it was again not going to be that easy for me. I asked where my other bag is, my friend said, he must be with one of the two. When others arrived empty handed I wasn’t shocked as I had an intuition that I lost my bag. I was right, they started blaming each other. Putting their conversations in background, I started thinking of what I lost with the bag. Initially I couldn’t think of any think precious and told them that there was nothing worthy in that bag . But, later I discovered that my file with all my original certificates and mark sheets was in that bag. Not just this, I borrowed a book from a friend’s friend and my whole assignment work saved in a pen drive all these things were in that bag.&lt;br /&gt;I decided to cancel my reservation and find the bag, but where? I don’t even know where I had lost it. We changed 2 auto rickshaws before reaching the station and there are thousands of autos running on roads of Mumbai, where to find it?&lt;br /&gt;Still my friends took a rare chance to search every possible auto. Meanwhile I stood in the ticket cancellation line. I demanded a pen for filling up the Cancellation form but nobody offered me help. I was annoyed, this shouldn’t happen after such a long hectic day, I said to myself. Somehow I filled the form and was waiting for my turn; suddenly a thought clicked my mind. What will I do? Even if I am here, I can’t make people search my bag for me just because I am an outsider and don’t know anyone in Mumbai. I kept on thinking and ended up not cancelling the ticket.&lt;br /&gt;I called my friend to meet me at the platform and I was stunned to see that my train was already standing on the platform. I told him that try to find the bag for me, and I am leaving for Indore. He agreed and the train whistled it was about to pump up in a minute or two and these 100 secs were miraculous as I put them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a call from someone who became God for me at the moment he revealed his identity. He was THE auto rickshaw driver in whose auto I left my bag. He said sir; I found a bag in my auto which apparently seems to be yours .I am worried and think it has a lot of important stuff of yours; you come soon and collect it. I told him to come to Borivali police station where one of my friend registered a complaint, he agreed. I said I’ll pay whatever charge you want, he humbly replied I am not doing it for money I just thought you must terribly needing this stuff.&lt;br /&gt;I said thanks in the most humble and formal way I could and then questioned him where did he get my no. from?&lt;br /&gt;He replied,” You have your CV [Curriculum Vitae] in that file which carries your resident address and number. I called at your home in Indore and they gave me your cell no. and that’s how I contacted you”&lt;br /&gt;After the good news that my bag is safe, I heard a shocking news. He called at my home and now grandpa also knows that I am in Mumbai. My mom later told me that her heart almost sank when some stranger from Mumbai called home regarding me.&lt;br /&gt;No matter what, my 100 secs were over and I had already stepped in to the train. I told my friend to collect my bag from the police station.&lt;br /&gt;I entered the train with a huge smile on my face, I searched for my seat and then I discovered that I dont have a confirm reservation. I smiled some more. And then I looked for a guy who had a confirm reservation, he was a friend of my friend’s elder brother. I met him; he was from Indore and lived in the next colony. He allowed me to share his seat but I wasn’t too comfortable and I dint sleep the whole night, I dint had much clothes to cover my body and it was very cold. The next day I caught cold and I was sick for 3 days. I got my bag back after one month when my friend arrived Indore. In the whole journey from Pune to Mumbai to Indore, I only regret one thing. I forgot to ask the name of the person who honestly helped me getting my lost bag back in a city like Mumbai. The Auto rickshaw driver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day was over and I still don’t know it was a good day or a bad day but all I know about that day is “It was special and I learned a lot.”&lt;br /&gt;It isn’t a very interesting story or incident to read, but to me it always sound fresh and special. I always remember this day and smile at what I had done in tensed situations. I miss Mumbai for just a single day visit, I feel like I have noticed, and faced real Mumbai, which is non glamorous, happening, alive and unstoppable.&lt;br /&gt;For me Mumbai rocks, people of Mumbai rocks and I am not mentioning all this just because my story had a happy ending. In fact I believe it doesn’t matters how tragic or happy the end is, the lessons we learn in a journey and how we imply them in our life are the things which should be counted. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5511030648165950116-8110675801182294188?l=harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/feeds/8110675801182294188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/2010/03/feb-sixth.html#comment-form' title='32 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5511030648165950116/posts/default/8110675801182294188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5511030648165950116/posts/default/8110675801182294188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshunique-my-experiences.blogspot.com/2010/03/feb-sixth.html' title='FEB THE SIXTH'/><author><name>Harshu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01943430442352854504</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TL_tk9bBvLI/AAAAAAAAACg/FGKD1OWW62w/S220/young-hr-writer.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_I3p11ItgkkQ/TGL9NOyt1HI/AAAAAAAAACM/95LUVDdejQg/s72-c/myu.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>32</thr:total><georss:featurename>Mumbai, Maharashtra, India</georss:featurename><georss:point>19.0176147 72.85616440000001</georss:point><georss:box>18.826811199999998 72.7533269 19.2084182 72.95900190000002</georss:box></entry></feed>