<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8" standalone="no"?><rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:blogger="http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:itunes="http://www.itunes.com/dtds/podcast-1.0.dtd" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Wed, 04 Sep 2024 13:28:52 +0000</lastBuildDate><category>atheism</category><category>atheist</category><category>faith</category><category>religion</category><category>awards</category><category>cricket</category><category>day log</category><category>education</category><category>family</category><category>fun</category><category>game</category><category>harry potter</category><category>magic</category><category>memories</category><category>ramblings</category><category>teacher</category><category>teaching</category><title>Memories of a Wandering Soul</title><description></description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>126</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><language>en-us</language><itunes:explicit>no</itunes:explicit><itunes:subtitle/><itunes:owner><itunes:email>noreply@blogger.com</itunes:email></itunes:owner><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-1196875014889374581</guid><pubDate>Thu, 14 Apr 2016 19:04:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2016-04-14T12:23:44.648-07:00</atom:updated><title>An Education (not the movie)</title><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
We stand there, totally bored, waiting for the elevator to descend from floor 9 to zero. I see a couple of familiar faces who acknowledge me as if I'm a domestic help or nanny to this little mound of flesh, tugging on to my shirt's sleeves.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Their stern gaze gets softer as it shifts from me to my son, who jumps up saying an impromptu "Hello" as a courtesy, which turns out to be a conversation starter.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Them: Does he go to school?&lt;br /&gt;
Me: Yeah, he goes to a Montessori.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Them: Oh. What class is he in? Must be playschool now?&lt;br /&gt;
Me: They don't have a concept of class. But compared to regular system of education, he is about to finish his playschool and starts preschool this session.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Them: How long has he been going to school?&lt;br /&gt;
Me: Almost 8 months.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Them: Wow. What all has he learnt? (turning to son) Beta, what all do you learn at school? Can you say all the alphabets? Numbers?&lt;br /&gt;
Son: No! (feeling a little flustered at this IIT Level interview that he's been subjected to)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Them: No? You've not learnt alphabets? (points to the alphabet 'A' in capitals on a flyer pasted outside the lift) What alphabet is this?&lt;br /&gt;
Son: H! (Exclaims excitedly)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Them: Not a very good school he goes to. Can't tell the difference between A and H. What has he learnt all these months?&lt;br /&gt;
Me (to Son): Beta, that's an A. Ok?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The elevator arrives and the interview continues inside.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Them: You should change the school. Are you happy with his progress?&lt;br /&gt;
Me: Yeah..It's a Montessori actually. Their methods are different. Every kid learns at a different pace.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Them: What rubbish? These days schools want to make money by charging high and not teaching anything. See your son. Almost 3 and doesn't even know alphabets properly. My grand daughter knew them before she turned 2. Take a wise decision and pull him out.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And they get out of the lift as we reach their floor. So many words exchanged within a couple of minutes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I look at my son in embarrassment and anger. He always seemed so smart growing up. Is the school really not good enough? Is he really not learning?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We get inside our home and as I prepare to wash the veggies for dinner, I hear my son pull out some action figurines and enact a monologue between Batman and Spiderman (with Hulk appearing to offer some special effects). I'm almost mad at him for not paying attention and not learning as quick as the imagined potential that I thought he possessed. I take out an alphabets puzzle and ask him to tell me all the alphabets correctly. He refuses. He's not interested in ABCD. He wants to continue playing with the action figures. I quickly lose my temper and walk away saying, "Please don't talk to me until you want to read the alphabets".&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I bring the ladyfingers to dry them on a soft towel on the dining table. As I bring out the knife and the chopping board, my son comes up to me enthusiastically and asks me, "Mumma what is this?". I ignore him and he comes even closer, grabs hold of my hand and asks me again, " Mumma, what is this?". I retort rather angrily, "It's called ladyfinger. Now go away".&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He looks at the knife and the chopping board and says, " Mumma I want to cut". All the while, his gaze is fixed on the knife. I'm worried when he insists rather stubbornly, "Mumma, I'll cut it". I decide to let him have a go and I'm surprised at his grip and the ease with which he's chopping each ladyfinger into 3 pieces. I'm amazed that his motor skills have improved so much and I didn't even know.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Maybe I wasn't paying attention. Maybe I was busy listening to others' opinion as to what my three-year old ought to know. Maybe he'd been secretly observing me chop veggies and learnt it, like Ekalavya learns from Dronacharya.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My heart was filled with pride thinking about how quickly my son picked up a life skill, just by looking at me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Me: Beta, how did you learn to cut so nicely.&lt;br /&gt;
Son: Mumma, I learnt this at school!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2016/04/an-education-not-movie.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-181119892798202977</guid><pubDate>Thu, 04 Feb 2016 19:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2016-02-04T11:39:37.972-08:00</atom:updated><title>Tamasha</title><description>&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;Finally managed to watch Tamasha today, and boy! Last time a movie haunted me so much was Dev D (although that one was another level. I remember coming back from the theatre thinking "What on earth was that?" and waking up next morning like I'd just woken up from a drug induced sleep. But, back to Tamasha).&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;It seems like a very ambitious, yet flawed way to look at existential crisis, but isn't life flawed too? I'm no critic or someone who has deep understanding about movies. They either stay with me, or they don't.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;Tamasha stays with me only because of Ranbir. Unlike him, I have had a lovely and supportive family that always gave me the space to take any road I wanted. For most of my life, I've dreamt of taking the one less traveled but until now, I'm still on a journey which doesn't quite lead me to the destination I want to reach. The Asterix in Corsica kind of motivation seems long forgotten. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;There's a scene when Ranbir tells his parents that he's been jobless for six months and his dad admonishes him saying those who don't have any problems in life , will create a problem for themselves. I've been told something similar many a times. That I wallow in self-pity and blame others for my life. The thing is, like Jude Law in The Holiday, I'm a weeper. I cry for the smallest of things. I cry when I'm hungry. I cry when I'm happy. I cry when I'm sad. But that's just me. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;Anyways, coming back from the detours and continuing the journey - I've opted for the 'safe bets' far too long and in the process forgotten myself. Forgotten what I like or want. I watch and re-watch Ken Robinson's TED Talk and wonder about my 'Element' and why it all seems so hazy. When it was, in fact, my own decisions that got me here. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;I feel anger, frustration, disappointment - just like Ranbir. I hurt loved ones by words or actions - just like Ranbir. Somewhere, &lt;u&gt;his&lt;/u&gt; character resonates so much, it just numbs down every emotion and forces me to look deeper within. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;Maybe dig out that girl who used to wake up at 5 AM for a live broadcast on Discovery, of the excavation of a mysterious tomb in Egypt. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;Or find that person who watched every episode of The Amazing Race, not for the tasks or to cheer teams, but to look at cultures and people across the world and dream about going to those places.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;Or just become that girl who felt like writing a blog because she wanted to. Well, at least, here's a start.&lt;/p&gt;
</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2016/02/tamasha.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-8951490344970278819</guid><pubDate>Sat, 05 Sep 2015 18:09:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2015-09-05T11:09:34.148-07:00</atom:updated><title>Blood Bonding and Beyond</title><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
I've loved you even before I could understand what it meant to be an 'elder sister'. You were my precious ever since I could remember your existence in my life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sitting next to you, adjusting your blanket while you were asleep (even if it were perfectly in place :P), waiting for you to wake up so that I could hold your milk &amp;nbsp;bottle up to feed you - you gave me my first sense of 'being mommy and doing mommy duties' very early on.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You're also the bravest person I've known - remember how you came back from the doctor's place and told me without blinking that he/she removed that infection on your hand with a knife (I think?). There I was getting scared of putting a needle through my veins and you went ahead and did this. Whoa moment for me - you'd grown up!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All these years, we've had so many fights, patch ups, growing apart and getting back closer than ever - how fast did these 25 years pass with you around? When did you become this amazing woman who has been putting everyone ahead of you so selflessly and tirelessly? Where do you find the courage and strength to push yourself every time? You're a wonder woman and I hope you do realize how amazingly wonderful you are and how much we all love you!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I wish we could've done a little more for today. But zindagi abhi shuru Hi hui hai mere dost :P I promise you, life will get a lot more awesome ahead and we'll do everything we'd planned. You're going to get more than Barney level awesome :P I've never dedicated a post to you because I'm too senti about you reading it and reliving old times but I guess now's the best time to do it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I love you Jolls. We all adore you to the moon and back, baby sis. Happy 25th and may all your dreams come true. Stay awesome and jolly good always. :*&lt;/div&gt;
</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2015/09/blood-bonding-and-beyond.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-5051080931068862075</guid><pubDate>Mon, 24 Feb 2014 17:03:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-02-24T09:03:45.982-08:00</atom:updated><title>An Open Letter to Army in Secunderabad Cantonment</title><description>&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;Dear 'Top Officials' in Secunderabad Cantonment,&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;How's it going? I'm sure you are facing a tough time answering civilians about vehicular movement in our, sorry, your area. I'd like to apologize on their behalf. These civilians , including my parents, don't understand your predicament. As a civilian living in the cantonment limits, please allow me to justify your decisions to other civilian-kinds.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;So listen up, all you civilian residents of Secunderabad Cantonment:&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Reasons&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;for &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;road&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt; blockades&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;
&lt;b&gt;1. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;Hit&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;and&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;Run&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;Cases&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;
Civilians, you drive recklessly in the cantonment. Just because the congestion of city traffic doesn't allow you to test the horse power on your vehicle, doesn't mean you go to the cantonment and drive recklessly. Only military trucks and families of these personnel are allowed to do that in cantonment roads. Wait for my 9 month old son to grow up and he'll tell you how exhilarating it was to be almost sent off road by one of them trucks. We've never felt more patriotic. After all, this is how we all secretly want to die, don't we?&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;b&gt;2. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;The&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;Stress&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;of &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;Crossing&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;the &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;road&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;
You know all about it, right? Trying to cross the road without being run over? Yeah. Same logic. If our jawans cannot contain traffic in their areas, how do you expect them to cross the road to go and train? This is a serious matter of national importance. Please let them cross the road. You all can take other routes and by lanes. Now go!&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;b&gt;3. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;Porous&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;area&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;and secu&lt;b&gt;rity&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;
Security of military installations is of utmost importance. Even you will admit this. The army has to prevent civilians like us from getting lost in the huge cantonment, getting frustrated and being a threat to military installations. After all, if civilians like my parents, who do not remember the route to their own homes aren't a threat, then who are?&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;b&gt;4. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;Cannot&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;compromise&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;military&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;security&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;for&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;civilian&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;inconvenience&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;
You civilians are so petty. You're just driving to and fro your workplace, stuck in hours of traffic everyday, to get to your 9-5 jobs. You call it a struggle? You've got to do what you've got to do and earn money. If you don't earn and pay taxes, how will you be able to fund for your security and peace of mind? So stop whining and drive a few extra kilometers everyday through the potholed roads, get back to work and pay taxes until you retire.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;Please allow me, dear top officials, to offer some solace to my fellow civilians.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;Here's a Civilian idiots guide to surviving the Secunderabad cantonment road blockade:&lt;br&gt;
1. Get essential services like gas agencies, supermarkets, water tankers etc. to sign up for Amazon's drone delivery to your doorstep. How cool is that? Problem solved.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;2. Plant more Money Plants (coz money just doesn't grow on trees). That will solve your growing expenses of paying for your fuel that you will incur taking longer routes. Saving on natural reserves? What's for? Don't worry. We'll all soon be rich to just bomb an oil rich country.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;3. Addendum to point 2, if you are getting a pay hike, keep it aside for taxes. Don't account for fuel expenses in these as you will pay taxes to keep the defense allocation going. Just remember CORC - Conquer Oil Rich Countries.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;4. Is a Loved one unwell? Need to rush to the hospital? Stressed about how EMRI Ambulances will reach you? Worry not. Hire Batman in case of medical emergencies. I'd suggest others but Batman is the best. He's got a pretty cool bat mobile - just the right vehicle for emergencies.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;5. Got no time to take care of your house, since you are spending more time now commuting? Give your house on rent to an army officer. They get truckload of help. You're not wanted in "their" area anyways. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;6. If you are going to miss seeing the beautiful cantonment, befriend an army officer or their family. They'll show you around without you even asking to. Security? What's security between children of defense personnel and their civilian friends!&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;If even these things don't help, don't go back to Andhra Sub area on your weekend, to fight over a Rs.20 sticker pass for your vehicle's entry in the cantonment. Drop me a mail and I'll send you a cool &amp;#8221;TORMENTED CIVILIAN&amp;#8221; sticker that you can proudly stick on your vehicle. Free of cost. *offer valid only for civilians &lt;u&gt;living&lt;/u&gt; in the cantonment*&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;There. I hope I've helped you army guys a little bit. Now please go cross the roads in peace.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir="ltr"&gt;Yours Sincerely,&lt;br&gt;
A Tormented Civilian &lt;/p&gt;
</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2014/02/an-open-letter-to-army-in-secunderabad.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-2614036840660990751</guid><pubDate>Sat, 07 Sep 2013 13:16:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-09-07T06:16:09.110-07:00</atom:updated><title>And you&amp;#39;ll make me proud </title><description>&lt;p dir=ltr&gt;My sweet little Aayansh, &lt;br&gt;
ALWAYS see the good in people &lt;br&gt;
And you'll make me proud. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir=ltr&gt;Never judge someone by their name&lt;br&gt;
And you'll make me proud. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir=ltr&gt;Find a way to connect with hearts &lt;br&gt;
And you'll make me proud. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir=ltr&gt;Remember that it was a woman who created you. &lt;br&gt;
Never assume a woman to be weak.&lt;br&gt;
And you'll make me proud. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir=ltr&gt;Don't get good grades, but try to find the answers &lt;br&gt;
And you'll make me proud. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir=ltr&gt;Don't always accept things people say. &lt;br&gt;
Ask questions. &lt;br&gt;
And you'll make me proud. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir=ltr&gt;If you ever bring a tear to someone's eye&lt;br&gt;
Make them smile and you'll make me proud. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir=ltr&gt;Give respect and earn it&lt;br&gt;
And you'll make me proud. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir=ltr&gt;Don't laugh at another's expense &lt;br&gt;
Learn to laugh at yourself &lt;br&gt;
And you'll make me proud. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir=ltr&gt;Never compare your wife to your mother &lt;br&gt;
Remember she loves you as much as (or more than) I do. &lt;br&gt;
And you'll make me proud. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir=ltr&gt;Read, travel and explore because you want to.&lt;br&gt;
Not to post pictures to social networking sites. &lt;br&gt;
And you'll make me proud. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir=ltr&gt;Acknowledge other people and cultures. &lt;br&gt;
Learn to enjoy their diversity without comparing. &lt;br&gt;
And you'll make me proud. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir=ltr&gt;Be humble and Know that someone out there might be better than you. &lt;br&gt;
And you'll make me proud. &lt;br&gt;
 &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir=ltr&gt;Do what gives you happiness &lt;br&gt;
And you'll make me proud. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir=ltr&gt;And share that happiness with people you love the most &lt;br&gt;
And you'll make me proud. &lt;/p&gt;
</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2013/09/and-you-make-me-proud.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-521424991340250631</guid><pubDate>Tue, 20 Aug 2013 07:12:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-08-20T00:12:19.741-07:00</atom:updated><title>My Little Big Man</title><description>&lt;p dir=ltr&gt;My Dearest Aayu, &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir=ltr&gt;You are three and a half months old now and sometimes I forget how tiny you are. When I hold you close and look into your beautiful, almond-shaped eyes, you seem like a grown man who understands every thing I do or do not say. And then, there are times when I put my palm over your chest while you&amp;#160; are asleep, I&amp;#160; realize that you and I have a lot of growing up to do. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p dir=ltr&gt;I love you more than I love anyone in the world. Thanks for coming into my life and giving me the chance of being called a mommy. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAezPiN-gpEdiIYT2W5xFRSB3fsWQzsX_9ze20Gw1h3kE8zruOQuy6fA3tjEFEN6siqjO5w7lEbwrmO23YKDe7IKyiu8DaKMw-XSTFXGYvXHv2ARfLymJDQIHdqf_erDYoGS51n4VFltzA/s1600/431809_659789197370696_2040433235_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt; &lt;img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAezPiN-gpEdiIYT2W5xFRSB3fsWQzsX_9ze20Gw1h3kE8zruOQuy6fA3tjEFEN6siqjO5w7lEbwrmO23YKDe7IKyiu8DaKMw-XSTFXGYvXHv2ARfLymJDQIHdqf_erDYoGS51n4VFltzA/s640/431809_659789197370696_2040433235_n.jpg"&gt; &lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2013/08/my-little-big-man.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAezPiN-gpEdiIYT2W5xFRSB3fsWQzsX_9ze20Gw1h3kE8zruOQuy6fA3tjEFEN6siqjO5w7lEbwrmO23YKDe7IKyiu8DaKMw-XSTFXGYvXHv2ARfLymJDQIHdqf_erDYoGS51n4VFltzA/s72-c/431809_659789197370696_2040433235_n.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-4219123814737041831</guid><pubDate>Fri, 15 Jul 2011 19:12:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-07-15T12:54:37.259-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">harry potter</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">magic</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">memories</category><title>So long, Mr. Potter</title><description>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;And it all ends&lt;/span&gt;, say the posters for the final installment in Harry Potter series. Maybe it does, for the creators of the movie. But for ardent fans like us, it never will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the second part of the final Potter movie hits cinema halls worldwide, I'm filled with a sort of nostalgia, almost not wanting to see the movie itself. For me, Harry Potter has not been the story of the boy wizard, but of several memories associated with its publishing period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I picked up my copy of the first book, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone&lt;/span&gt;, sometime in late 2000. My grandmother had just passed away and my world seemed to have gone into a seemingly unending mess. My grades in school fell, I was shifted to a section meant for 'weak students', and I was always a more than average student. I just couldn't take it. I was forever scared that either my father or my mother or both may die soon and I will have no one in the world to look after me. I was bordering on paranoia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around the same time, newspapers carried stories of this book series that had become an international sensation. Harry Potter. The more I read about it, the more I wanted to know what it was all about. Then, after the unfortunate events of 2000, I didn't have the chance to think about it. One day, after things at home had settled a bit, my father and uncle decided to go to this book-cum-CD-store to pick up a few movies. Papa asked me if I wanted something. I merely wrote down the name 'Harry Potter' on a piece of paper and gave it to him. An hour later I got a call, 'There are four books. Which one do you want me to bring?". Not having read any, I asked him to bring me just the first one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started reading it and fell in love with the characters. This was my Enid Blyton. Somehow, all the magic that Harry did and the wonderful friends that he had, made me feel good. And knowing that there is more, I couldn't wait to get my hands on the subsequent books. I managed to get hold of those books from friends and continued to read them whenever I could manage. I wanted to read it even when I had my board exams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then the movies came out shortly after I started reading the second one. Daniel Radcliffe gave a face to the Harry that I had so far been imagining. So did other prominent actors. In all the subsequent books that I read, I could imagine Alan Rickman as Snape, Michael Gambon as Albus Dumbledore and Maggie Smith as Minerva Mcgonagall. It was a fairytale period, those years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even now as I remember those moments, it makes me want to thank J.K.Rowling for giving me Harry Potter. For all the days in college when I read the books during ongoing lectures, for all the times I looked forward to something for the first time, for the only biggest source of joy I remember from my adolescent life - I thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, the last movie hits theaters today. I will watch it, even if I don't want to. I would rather live in this world where I can look forward to 'one more Potter movie or book' and remember those days that made me who I am today. Harry Potter literally saved me in many ways. It truly did. Without it, in those months after my grandmother's death, life would have been much more difficult. But Potter and his magic, did a wonderful trick to direct my heart to someplace better than where it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There will be no more Potter books or movies. Probably it is better this way. I have moved on to other series and look forward to new things everyday. But each time I think about my Potter-crazy days, I cannot feel anything but happiness associated with those memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have six out of the seven Potter books at my parents' place in Hyderabad. The only one that I don't have is the sixth one, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince&lt;/span&gt;, which incidentally is my favourite. I'm still looking for a good deal on a Hardcover edition for that one and then my Potter collection will be complete.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe that is why it doesn't end for me yet. That one book missing from my collection. But I shall have it one day, and then what? Nothing. It'll remain so until the day I want to start to re-live those moments again. And maybe when I am older and my children want to read books from my library, I can recommend it to them. Maybe they'll like it. Maybe they won't. Who knows?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Till then, so long Mr. Potter. Thanks for the magic that you've brought into the lives of millions of children worldwide.</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2011/07/so-long-mr-potter.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><thr:total>6</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-5826242153934000316</guid><pubDate>Fri, 01 Apr 2011 16:07:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-04-01T10:17:53.982-07:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">cricket</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">family</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">fun</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">game</category><title>Once Upon a World Cup</title><description>There you are. India beat Pakistan in the 2011 Cricket World Cup Semi-Final and will now face the Sri Lankans tomorrow. There. Every Indian is happy. The victory sparked off wild celebrations, even in dry Ahmedabad (Formally dry. Informally, like Sabarmati flows the Scotch).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That morning, before the match had begun, I was thinking, "What if we lose this match now? How would the Indian fans take it? After all, it IS Pakistan. And every news channel is already gung-ho about this match and the political who's who attending". Indeed, this match was seemingly becoming bigger than cricket itself. But then again, aren't all Indo-Pak matches are?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, my mind decided to pull into reverse-gear and arrived at the flashback of the 1999 World Cup. A couple of my cousins and I, ages 9-12, used to gather at this aunt's place to watch the matches. Some Pizza outlet had a scheme running -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Call 66333444 when a Batsman hits a six. Name the Batsman. First caller wins a Pizza".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was just brilliant. A free Pizza was like the biggest dream of our life. And we all decided to try our luck at every single match. We had the number on speed-dial and took turns to sit next to the telephone. The number, however, was always "busy". Too young to realize the marketing strategy, we had plenty of hope that one day, we shall get to the Pizza.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;India - Sri Lanka Match. 26 May, 1999, Taunton (England).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without much luck in the previous matches, we were hoping we'd strike Pizza in this one. We had this younger cousin of ours, Puneet, put the number on speed dial and wait for someone to hit a six.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sourav Ganguly and Rahul Dravid were batting. The signs were ominous. Somebody was going to hit a six. And we had Pizza Puneet ready to make the call. All of 10 and hungry for free Pizza, he waited anxiously, praying. Then came the moment we were all waiting for. Ganguly hit a massive six and we rejoiced. One more shot at the Pizza. Puneet speed-dialed and it was finally ringing at the other end. Someone picked up -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man -&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Hello?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Puneet - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hello. Hello&lt;/span&gt; (stammering. Still thinking about the Pizza)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man - Yes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Puneet - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Haan. Hello. Hello? Ganguly ne chakka maara. Ganguly ne chakka maara!! &lt;/span&gt;(Ganguly hit a six)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man -&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Haan to? Main kya karoon?&lt;/span&gt; (So. What am I supposed to do?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Puneet - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pizza bhejo na. Ganguly ne chakka maara hai. Pizza jeete hum log. Bhejo.&lt;/span&gt; (Send the Pizza. Ganguly hit a six. We've won the Pizza.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Kya? Kaun sa number chaahiye?&lt;/span&gt; (What? What number did you dial?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Puneet -66633444.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Number sahi hai..par kya Pizza?&lt;/span&gt; (The number is correct. But what Pizza?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moment he said the number we were shouting behind him to put the phone down. Wrong number. Wrong number.&lt;br /&gt;DOUBLE SIX, TRIPLE THREE, TRIPLE FOUR You Idiot.&lt;br /&gt;Not TRIPLE SIX, DOUBLE THREE, TRIPLE FOUR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few of us slapped our fore-head as Ganguly hit another six. And THEN we all laughed. Puneet thought we were all going to hit him for the missed chance. When that didn't happen, he joined us  to share this moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ganguly went on and hit a few more sixes in that memorable innings where he scored 183. However, thanks to Puneet, we remember the match more for the Pizza rather than the final outcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did we call again? No. Everytime Ganguly hit a six, we joked around as Puneet looked on sheepishly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did we get the Pizza? Yes. Not immediately though. And definitely not free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking about it now, watching cricket for reasons beyond cricket, has always been a way of life. At least for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2011/04/once-upon-world-cup.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-3306005851866666268</guid><pubDate>Sun, 27 Mar 2011 09:37:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-03-27T02:54:08.687-07:00</atom:updated><title>Look who's back!</title><description>Hee Hee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, if you thought I forgot all about this blog, wrong you were. Might have been selective amnesia, yes. Might have been sheer boredom, yes. Even so, I have decided to get back to my blogger-ship which got me plenty of wonderful friends and readers alike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stopped blogging here because of all the zillion things happening in my life. And this blog was a bitter-sweet reminder of all the memories I had stored, some of which I wanted to forget. I started other blogs but couldn't bring myself to write as regularly as I used to write here. So here I am again. Where I began. To continue where I'd left and maybe start anew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello, my dear blog. I've missed you very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: You can keep me blog-rolled now. Hee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.P.S: And yeah. You can find this shit on "http://snehriti.in" as well. HeeHee.</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2011/03/look-whos-back.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-2760602173178938824</guid><pubDate>Sun, 25 Apr 2010 18:14:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-04-25T11:41:26.513-07:00</atom:updated><title>Blank</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It doesn't make any sense. This life. And the unexpected turns it takes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I came back home early on Wednesday. So that I can spend time with loved ones while everyone in college wanted me to stay back. Spend time to reconnect with family members where relationships once treasured were souring in the last few years. I loved them all, despite whatever I said to the contrary. Shopping was also big on my list and I was to begin on Saturday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Saturday. Another day of the week I'm going to come to hate.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I did go shopping. For clothes, as I'd already planned. But not for me. For the last clothes I'd ever buy for her. For the last saree she was ever going to wear and be cremated with. I still cannot believe she's gone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;She came back to me last night. In dreams filled with visuals of all the moments I'd spent with her. Her remarks when I asked her as to how we shared the same birthday: that I was her gift from god when she asked him for a birthday present and for many years I believed that. The one of a kind dal that only she could make, filled with warmth and love that only Mumma or Dadi could match. The hugs that were so natural as a kid which slowly drifted as we grew older. Those days of shopping for brothers on their wedding. Those days that I came back everyday from my work at the CA firm -tired and hungry. That laugh that still echoes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It still haunts me. The last movie in theatre that we saw together. SAAWARIYA. Around 10 of us. And she was bored from the beginning. "&lt;i&gt;Yeh Hero to ekdum chhokri jaisa lagta hai&lt;/i&gt;" , She said. It was fun. She was fun. Despite all my growing tempers all these years against everything, I still loved her. Coz she loved me and I sure did hurt her by openly flaunting my displeasures. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Two weeks ago when I came to know she was bed-ridden, I spoke to her on the phone. She said, "I'll be alright in time for your wedding". I came to meet her on Wednesday, the day I came back to the city. She looked discomforted, but then not such that anyone could imagine she would leave us so suddenly. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;While we waited at the hospital and kept hearing about her sinking state, Jolly kept saying, "Keep faith. Mobilize energy. I'm sure if we're positive, she'll be fine soon". We tried. We lost. She died in the same hospital she lost her husband at. And I've lost three loved ones in that building now. I cannot bear to look at it once more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;As we stood there to pay respect to her lifeless body there, I could not hold back the tears I'd been holding all day. The wedding will not be the same without her. When I was younger, she was the only surviving person with whom I'd discussed my wedding and she'd always been the one most excited about it. I'd decided to let her know before I came here that I'd want her to be there, right there with Mummy Papa for all the rituals. With her gone now, I cannot cannot cannot imagine how things would be. How our lives would be.  We'll move on in due time. But then, I'm going to regret that last moment that I saw her alive and I didn't hug her even when I really wanted to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I wish I'd hugged you and told you that I love you and I'm sorry for being so rude in the last few years. I wish... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I'm going to miss you Kanak Bua. I still cannot believe you and I are not going to celebrate our birthday together ever again.&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2010/04/blank.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><thr:total>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-449147637805187152</guid><pubDate>Thu, 15 Apr 2010 14:58:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-04-15T08:03:25.822-07:00</atom:updated><title>Hates placements!</title><description>Not that they mattered to me. I knew from the minute I stepped into ACJ that there was little chance of me walking out with a job. Always knew I'd have to fend for myself later on and I'm sure something worthwhile will come my way. But even so, I hate placements.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It doesn't feel nice to see some very deserving students losing hope after not getting placed anywhere, four days into placements season. Some of the brightest people are still awaiting calls to be interviewed. It is depressing to see these grim faces and the campus feels like a prison.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope things change soon around here.&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2010/04/hates-placements.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-4443600944926789314</guid><pubDate>Thu, 01 Apr 2010 11:07:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-04-01T05:29:35.213-07:00</atom:updated><title>Roomie Woomie Haaye Rabba!</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwHiB6iNpBYmbTw68apnJTSk2BiwCRv_vBtzq1G9XYIGslKzCf9HYf6JDqDtav8LnFJZV3tnTZASpWdOYmkdcJPeCXB0Ut0qhqwbmbAbNHYmWiq0YQBe5fiwtVHxfuGrpG4FhvVjC6Jhn8/s1600/CIMG4199.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwHiB6iNpBYmbTw68apnJTSk2BiwCRv_vBtzq1G9XYIGslKzCf9HYf6JDqDtav8LnFJZV3tnTZASpWdOYmkdcJPeCXB0Ut0qhqwbmbAbNHYmWiq0YQBe5fiwtVHxfuGrpG4FhvVjC6Jhn8/s400/CIMG4199.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455144514420453522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Room 101 ACJ Rocks!! (Wall art by &lt;a href="http://thingamablob.blogspot.com"&gt;Amma&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;One of my roomies is singing really loudly even as I am typing this. I think she is singing "Hum Aapke Hain Kaun". Wait. Lemme check.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*&lt;i&gt;tip toes to the other side of the room. Peeks. tip toes back&lt;/i&gt;*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Err. It is an unrecognizable Telugu song. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, I've been thinking lately about my first few days here at ACJ. With no known friends (of course, immediate roomie I'd met during the interview and told her I'm getting married soon and she suggested I run away, assuming that it was an arranged marriage :P); I was like "What have I done? Why have I come here?". But soon, I realised I have the best possible roomies that I could get.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Proud to say ours is the coolest and the most peaceful room in the entire hostel (me and my roomies think so :P). Here is a few reasons why:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Reason # 1: We are simply the best combination of room-mates. Three Hyderabadis and One Japanese...errr...Pune-ite (Now THAT is something that can get me killed....) :P &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Reason # 2: We have the most adorable 'adopted roomie' in the whole not-so-wide hostel. Her laptop goes by the name of "Pupul Chatter-PC". HOW COOL IS THAT? :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Reason # 3: We don't communicate like normal mortals do. We chat. Online. Sitting across two beds in the same part of the room or even sitting in ANY PART OF THE ROOM. We chat. ONLINE. Beat that!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Reason # 4: We have an awesomely balanced sense of humour. Two tell legen....wait for it....dary jokes, one tells pathetic jokes and one...well, finds everything a joke. The adopted roomie is a walking, talking, jumping, 4'10 joker. She'd make Heath Ledger proud I say.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Reason # 5: No one smokes or drinks here (well drinking occasionally doesn't count as drinking, right?). We don't fight, we just bug each other a lot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yeah. That's that. I THINK my roomies are the best. Original and adopted combined. Ok?? OK.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What's that noise? Oh. It is roomie again. I think NOW she's singing Hum Aapke Hain Kaun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;NO.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is some Telugu movie song again. DAMN!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Roomie Woomie Haaye Rabba!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2010/04/roomie-woomie-haaye-rabba.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwHiB6iNpBYmbTw68apnJTSk2BiwCRv_vBtzq1G9XYIGslKzCf9HYf6JDqDtav8LnFJZV3tnTZASpWdOYmkdcJPeCXB0Ut0qhqwbmbAbNHYmWiq0YQBe5fiwtVHxfuGrpG4FhvVjC6Jhn8/s72-c/CIMG4199.JPG" width="72"/><thr:total>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-8586144332040219774</guid><pubDate>Thu, 25 Mar 2010 18:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-03-25T11:36:01.488-07:00</atom:updated><title>Love - AAJ KAL</title><description>&lt;div&gt;Was just talking to roomie about a couple of '89ers displaying a proud status message "IN A RELATIONSHIP" on Facebook. This is what my newsfeed was showing, about one such couple, who went from being in a relationship... to single.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sigh! Love aaj kal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJJKF89K-cgYhyphenhyphenvaJKoGAAEZNavsL3SIbwrdTruFD8dZHbrFMscRJxJSx3YfFypRRLMHSqNZzy8qOJOJjSYQSLuu-G9vKN-ortwXVznkwMEVWALtDB-IfdRw2z8MPQNGQJB2_cckExTXQj/s1600/Fullscreen+capture+3252010+115013+PM.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 182px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJJKF89K-cgYhyphenhyphenvaJKoGAAEZNavsL3SIbwrdTruFD8dZHbrFMscRJxJSx3YfFypRRLMHSqNZzy8qOJOJjSYQSLuu-G9vKN-ortwXVznkwMEVWALtDB-IfdRw2z8MPQNGQJB2_cckExTXQj/s400/Fullscreen+capture+3252010+115013+PM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452641181428666786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(click on image to read)&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2010/03/love-aaj-kal.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJJKF89K-cgYhyphenhyphenvaJKoGAAEZNavsL3SIbwrdTruFD8dZHbrFMscRJxJSx3YfFypRRLMHSqNZzy8qOJOJjSYQSLuu-G9vKN-ortwXVznkwMEVWALtDB-IfdRw2z8MPQNGQJB2_cckExTXQj/s72-c/Fullscreen+capture+3252010+115013+PM.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-3723494321193979143</guid><pubDate>Sun, 07 Mar 2010 19:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-03-07T11:26:08.240-08:00</atom:updated><title>THE BLUE MUG</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtlahJJJvGWQp_FN_pyGkNG3ByrvhqVDfar1N9HbS7UEV-b8ezNKH-c-gY1Kb2gdrlqzyQoX3tQTB5rRP-83asL1x81QolSCK9F_jbcrIU5Whn3tQhM3sAcWOaImg0kQfnhlUSs4C6JD6W/s1600-h/A0BLUE1.TIF-190709.pjpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtlahJJJvGWQp_FN_pyGkNG3ByrvhqVDfar1N9HbS7UEV-b8ezNKH-c-gY1Kb2gdrlqzyQoX3tQTB5rRP-83asL1x81QolSCK9F_jbcrIU5Whn3tQhM3sAcWOaImg0kQfnhlUSs4C6JD6W/s320/A0BLUE1.TIF-190709.pjpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445975198279539458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Pic source: Deccan Chronicle&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The Blue Mug - A play featuring Ranvir Shorey, Rajat Kapoor, Konkana Sen Sharma, Vinay Pathak, Sheeba Chaddha and Munish Bharadwaj.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The play spoke about memories - and how important it is to our lives. All the characters depicted memories that they remembered...something close to their heart. Most of it was part of the act but god did I enjoy the play. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Speaking of memories.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I will always remember THESE from today:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;1) I was not keen on going for the play but after insistence from the gang, I gave in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;2) Until this day, I always assumed I was a "non-play" kind of person. Today I know I'M NOT! I LOVED IT.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;3) This was the first time ever that I'd gone to see a play IN MY LIFE. (Pooja's reaction was just priceless when I told her that...It's not a big deal you know Poo bear :P )&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;4) I met Ranvir Shorey, Rajat Kapoor, Konkana Sen Sharma and Vinay Pathak after the play and rued the fact that I didn't get a camera with me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;5) Realized how approachable these actors were and now know the true worth of stage plays. (Konkana was so sweet... An old man had come to talk to her after the play and she went up to him and said Namaste! It was so natural. It was such a wonderful feeling. Ranvir stood next to me, with a wonderful smile on his face. He looked at Konkana with pride. He left with her, hand in hand, after she was done talking to the old man.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It was a truly wonderful day for me. I'll remember it for a very long time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Thanks Ye ACJ Bunch. I LOVE YOU GUYS! :)&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2010/03/blue-mug.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtlahJJJvGWQp_FN_pyGkNG3ByrvhqVDfar1N9HbS7UEV-b8ezNKH-c-gY1Kb2gdrlqzyQoX3tQTB5rRP-83asL1x81QolSCK9F_jbcrIU5Whn3tQhM3sAcWOaImg0kQfnhlUSs4C6JD6W/s72-c/A0BLUE1.TIF-190709.pjpeg" width="72"/><thr:total>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-14371424384983050</guid><pubDate>Fri, 26 Feb 2010 17:40:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-02-26T11:03:43.320-08:00</atom:updated><title>Happiness!</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://nynke.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/happiness-poster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://nynke.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/happiness-poster.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;All my life, I've tried to understand what true happiness is.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Was it when I got good grades?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Was it when I got my scooty?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Was it when I finally did what I wanted to?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I kept thinking even as happiness ensued me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;HAPPINESS:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;was when I went home last diwali and felt like a daughter&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;was when he told me money will come, moment may not&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;was when he shared tiny yet significant moments of his life with me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;was when mumma told me she called him up 'just cos she felt like it'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;was when I was down with fever and for the first time someone took care of me, just like I'd imagined &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;was when we went to eat kulfi in the middle of the night&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;was when I realized how complete my life is&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;was when I realized I can be happy without buying something material&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;was when I watched a youtube video which made no sense to me, yet was familiar coz it reminded me of him&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happiness is all these small things which bring a smile to your face...and it comes in doses. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Right when you need them. :)&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2010/02/happiness.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><thr:total>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-965962729272372250</guid><pubDate>Wed, 24 Feb 2010 18:06:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-02-24T11:05:30.841-08:00</atom:updated><title>100 TRUTHS</title><description>Have been having a hard time posting something up. Have found on previous occassions that 'tags' are my answer to this blog-block: HERE GOES 100 TRUTHS (a tag I flicked off Renu Aunty's blog)&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  line-height: 22px; font-family:Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif;font-size:14px;"&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;1. Last drink: Water&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;2. Last phone call: Snehal Patel (fiance)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;3. Last text message:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; Shreedutta Vasudeva (Chids)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;4. Last song you listened to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; 'Before the Dawn' by Evanescence&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;5. Last time you cried: 22 February 2010&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;HAVE YOU EVER... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;6. Dated someone twice: Still dating Snehal Patel...over a million times :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;7. Been cheated upon? Nope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;8. Kissed someone &amp;amp; regretted it? Nope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;9. Lost someone special? Yes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;10. Been depressed?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; PLENTY of time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;11. Been drunk and threw up?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; Drunk (unintentionally), yes. Threw up, NO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;LIST THREE FAVOURITE COLOURS: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Lavender&lt;br /&gt;13. White&lt;br /&gt;14. Beige&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;FIRSTS :&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;15. Made new friends: Asian College of Journalism, Chennai&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;16. Fallen out of love: Too deep in it to fall out of it :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;17. Laughed until you cried: Almost always :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;18. Met someone who changed you: Yes. My Fiance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;19. Found out who your true friends were: Yes.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;20. Found out someone was talking about you: Yes. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;HAVE/YOU: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;21. Kissed anyone on your friend's list: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;22. How many people on your friends list do you know in real life: Plenty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;23. How many kids do you want to have: Two. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;24. Do you have any pets: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;25. Do you want to change your name:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;26. What did you do for your last birthday: Had a party at a rooftop hotel, just for family. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;27. What time did you wake up today: 7 am for a damn 'photo shoot' (otherwise I'm up by 8:30)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;28. What were you doing at midnight last night:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Reading something on KERS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;29. Name something you CANNOT wait for: Starting a new life with my better half.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;30. Last time you saw your father: January 27 when I went home for the Republic day holidays.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;31. What is one thing you wish you could change about your life: NOTHING. Whatever needed to be changed, has already been.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;32. Most visited web page:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://acjnewsline.asianmedia.org.in/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;ACJNEWSLINE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; :P (To keep checking if our links work properly)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Whats your:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;33. Name: Smriti&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;34. Nicknames: DD, Deeds, Deedee, Sammi, Sam, Smutty, Smartie, Smarts, Simmi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;35. Zodiac sign: Taurus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;36. Male or female or transgender:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; ?????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;37. Elementary: ???????&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;38. School: Taraporewalla Montessori House of Children and Harvard P.S, Hyderabad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;39. Colleges: OU, Asian College of Journalism&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;40. Hair color: Coloured Dark Chocolate :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;41. Long or short: Medium&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;42. Height: 5'2"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;43. Do you have a crush on someone? Kimi Raikkonen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;44. Ever been in love? Yes. Still am.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;45. Piercings? Ears.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;46. Tattoos? Nope.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;47. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Righty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; or lefty: All Righty Right.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;48. First surgery: None&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;49. First piercing: E&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;ars&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;50. First best friend: Prashant&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;51. First sport you loved: Cricket&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;52. First pet: None yet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;53. First vacation: Can't remember honestly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;54. First concert: Might have been the Lata Mangeshkar concert at Hyderabad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;55. First crush: Prashant.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;RIGHT NOW:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;56. Eating: Shreedutta's head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;57. Drinking: Water.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;58. I'm about to: Sleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;59. Listening to: Hello Hurricane by Switchfoot&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;60. Waiting for: a free day in the life of ACJians.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;YOUR/FUTURE &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;61. Want kids? Of Course.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;62. Want to get married? Yes. AND not running away from the mandap :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;63. Careers in mind? Journalism, Teaching too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;WHICH IS BETTER WITH THE OPPOSITE SEX? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;64. Lips or eyes: Eyes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;65. Hugs or kisses: Both. :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;66. Shorter or taller: Medium.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;67. Older or Younger: Anything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;68. Romantic or spontaneous: Rom Rom Antic. :p&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;69. Nice stomach or nice arms: Ehh? Nice BRAIN.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;70. Sensitive or loud: Sensitive&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;71. Hook-up or relationship: Relationship&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;72. Trouble maker or hesitant: Both.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;HAVE YOU EVER :&lt;br /&gt;73. Kissed a stranger: Nope.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;74. Lost glasses &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; contacts: Nope.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;75. Broken &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;someone's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; heart: Quite a few.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;76. Had your own heart broken: Quite a few times.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;77. Been arrested: No.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;78. Turned someone down: Yes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;79. Cried when someone died: Yes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;80. Liked a friend that is a girl? Hell yeah.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;DO YOU BELIEVE IN:&lt;br /&gt;81. Yourself:  Yeah.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;82. Miracles: Yes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;83. God: Sachin, apparently. Otherwise, no.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;84. Love at first sight: Totally!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;85. Heaven: Ehhh??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;86. Santa Claus: No.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;87. Kiss on the first date? Maybe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;88. Angels: Yes. The Human ones. Not the fairy tale ones.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;89. Devils: Yes. The Human ones again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;ANSWER TRUTHFULLY: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;90. Is there one person you want to be with right now? Yes. :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;91. Had more than one boyfriend/girlfriend at one time? No.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;92. Wanted to kill someone ever? YES.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;93. Among your blog mates, whom would you like to kiss? PJ :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;94. Committed a blunder and regretted later? Many times.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;95. Wanted to steal your friend's boyfriend / girlfriend? Why would I? I've got the best. :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;96. White: T-shirt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;97. Black: Jeans.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;98. Red:  Shoes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;99. Pink: Bedsheet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;100. Posting this as 100 Truths? Boring. :| :P :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Open to anyone who wants to take it up :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2010/02/have-been-having-hard-time-posting.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><thr:total>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-7028904753762404777</guid><pubDate>Sun, 14 Feb 2010 16:06:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-02-14T08:08:16.159-08:00</atom:updated><title>Lives of Others</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPnv1s7Grdk8K2Wb3Uchee94aLaEOaHi7T4B9Pf-oElbLahjSyaYCJnrTwNg-4h2QAJOLCz0ESHkw3fkkDieFmd-AdbRyM_c7dmtzvOqBYm6YQoJb1Fh35mtT_Bif5XiNlKB_ML_8zpLnv/s1600-h/CIMG3437.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPnv1s7Grdk8K2Wb3Uchee94aLaEOaHi7T4B9Pf-oElbLahjSyaYCJnrTwNg-4h2QAJOLCz0ESHkw3fkkDieFmd-AdbRyM_c7dmtzvOqBYm6YQoJb1Fh35mtT_Bif5XiNlKB_ML_8zpLnv/s320/CIMG3437.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438131620502565698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;It has been exactly one week since our trip to &lt;a href="http://www.mahabalipuram.co.in/"&gt;Mahabalipuram (Mamallapuram)&lt;/a&gt; and I still can't seem to get those images outside my head.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;As is the routine with every tourist spot in India, Mahabs (as they call it here) has a huge influx of tourists - local and foreigners. Agreed that the architecture is spectacular and beaches are beautiful. Normally, it would have been an ideal weekend getaway on short budget. Amid the huge tourist influx, I wonder how many wait to notice the poor ladies selling beaded ornaments.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;We reached there around 11 in the morning and were immediately hounded by a woman selling bead necklace. She was carrying a baby, carefully put up in a cloth bag hung across her chest. She was pregnant with another child. What was striking about this woman was, the baby was positioned right on her breast, while she continued to have her hands full with these beaded necklaces.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;A little while later, as my friends negotiated on the price of hats being sold near the &lt;a href="http://www.mahabalipuram.co.in/shore_temple_at_mahabalipuram.php"&gt;Shore Temple&lt;/a&gt;, I saw plenty other women like the earlier one. Most of them were carrying children, just like she was. The rest were pregnant. I was quite overwhelmed when I noticed that every one of these women either had a baby or was pregnant. And they seemed like they were in their early to mid-twenties.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;I saw the first woman again. This time the baby had woken up and was crying. She kept yelling out, trying to sell the necklaces to anyone who was interested. At the same time, she tried hard to breast feed her baby and stop its crying.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;Although it was a good trip with friends, I am still haunted with questions about those women.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;I wonder what their life is like everyday. Children are a huge responsibility and to see them juggling motherhood with livelihood, just humbles me. I cannot imagine such a loss of privacy, but these women seem to have none.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;One can't help but imagine...the lives of others.&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2010/02/lives-of-others.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPnv1s7Grdk8K2Wb3Uchee94aLaEOaHi7T4B9Pf-oElbLahjSyaYCJnrTwNg-4h2QAJOLCz0ESHkw3fkkDieFmd-AdbRyM_c7dmtzvOqBYm6YQoJb1Fh35mtT_Bif5XiNlKB_ML_8zpLnv/s72-c/CIMG3437.JPG" width="72"/><thr:total>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-4955230220576726384</guid><pubDate>Sat, 14 Nov 2009 16:02:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-14T08:30:59.149-08:00</atom:updated><title>My Hero!</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;These days I often find myself lapsing into this different kind of emotion, something that brings tears to my eyes. It has finally dawned upon me that I will be getting married in less than a year and I won't be around each day making that special morning tea that Papa loves.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;As a child, I always knew that I'll leave home one day to go and live with my soulmate, my life partner. It always bothered me that I didn't have a brother who'd be there everyday with mummy and papa, after even my sister got married. I'm sure my parents never had that kind of a fear and they've brought up me and my sister with all the comforts that they could provide.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I've been thinking about the times I got mad at Papa for various things. Trivial issues. I wonder why I ever lost my temper at dad from small things. No one's perfect and I expected him to be. It is only now I realize that he is perfect in his own special way. He's my perfect hero.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Papa has always given me whatever I wanted. Always. He cared to listen to me, wanted to hear me out even though I was always chatty with mummy. I always felt that I can talk only the 'serious things' with papa and maintain a sort of 'professionalism' with him, while being pally with mummy. That is how our equation has been working so far.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I was scared as hell when I spoke to him about Snehal but his reaction to it just made me want to hug him. I realize now that I don't actually remember hugging him ever. He was cool about everything, putting my happiness first. He always has as I think of it now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I remember telling my Dadi that I will marry someone from Hyderabad so that I don't have to go away from home. Now that I'll go away over 1200kms away, I don't know what it must be like for Papa .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;This diwali when I went home, I could sense that papa realised it was my last diwali at home. I guess all of us wanted to make is special this time. And we did. For the first time in all these years, my diwali was memorable and I felt truly connected and happy. I'm sure papa did as well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Each night I dread thinking about the day I go away, I dread seeing tears in my hero's eyes, I dread showing him my tears. But I guess it is bound to happen. Yes, he'll cry and so will I. I can already see that it is a moment of pride for a father when he gets his daughter married and papa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt; is excited. But those tears are inevitable.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Just wanted to say that Papa I love you very much for everything that you have ever done for me and all the happiness that you have given me in life. You not only gave me a life, but most importantly you gave me the freedom to live it on my terms. Love you papa.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUEvJQ0ppR5QBkh18mpauhSjuMT6O5NMDylI_HX52Ezegrg3wLql0sHzPvWuSJCrhJt-eVi6QX5RcyETZNUxh_uRAnRSvl1y-PoAEozVwJ-vOLdId-sATXcDZkZrWmJqEZGW1PPhDOXiyk/s320/mini-CIMG1178.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403996753366855186" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-hero.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUEvJQ0ppR5QBkh18mpauhSjuMT6O5NMDylI_HX52Ezegrg3wLql0sHzPvWuSJCrhJt-eVi6QX5RcyETZNUxh_uRAnRSvl1y-PoAEozVwJ-vOLdId-sATXcDZkZrWmJqEZGW1PPhDOXiyk/s72-c/mini-CIMG1178.JPG" width="72"/><thr:total>11</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-6543001824107793022</guid><pubDate>Sat, 17 Oct 2009 07:44:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-01-21T10:50:47.779-08:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">ramblings</category><title>Diwali Lights on Air India</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.rainbowskill.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/air-india-boeing-747-412-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 800px; height: 533px;" src="http://www.rainbowskill.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/air-india-boeing-747-412-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For starters, I seriously believe the Maggi Noodles counter at Chennai Airport should be immediately removed. It is a bane for someone like me who is trying very hard to get rid of her Maggi addiction. I'm serious! I used to be terribly addicted to Maggie, eating it everyday, until my little tummy decided to shout in disgust. Snehal has also asked me not to eat it for my own good. Everyone in chennai airport was eating Maggi yesterday as I waited for my flight to depart. I found myself loitering near the counter, but eventually didn't let myself cave it. Yaaay!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh. Almost forgot. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;WISH YOU ALL A VERY HAPPY DIWALI. :) :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had always wondered as to what the view might be from up there during diwali. I mean the sky. Thank god that the Air India flight was delayed by a good 20 mins. The view was spectacular. Chennai is surprisingly well planned. Or at least it seems so, from up there. The firecrackers being burst presented such an impressive picture. I imagined a stupid Hollywood style movie as the plane gained altitude. I was a bit worried thinking what would happen if a firecracker comes and hits the plane. Would the pilot steer it away, saving us from the many fiery obstacles that lay ahead? Eh?? Phew!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was a good flight and I need to find out who makes the cake they serve on Air India. It is absolutely yummy. I love it. I'm talking about the Chennai-Hyderabad sector. Rest of the food was pretty passable, but that slice of the walnut cake was really good. In fact, all the cakes that I've had on Air India flights in the last one year have been more than decent.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyways, I'm going to end here. I'm home now and I dont want to be blogging or facebooking or doing anything on the internet for too long. Going to make Tomato Chutney (I make it pretty good...Don't believe me??). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wish you all a very happy diwali once again. Enjoy the festival and don't be a nuisance to others :P &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2009/10/diwali-lights-on-air-india.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><thr:total>6</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-805552012834863952</guid><pubDate>Thu, 08 Oct 2009 04:17:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-01-21T10:54:38.915-08:00</atom:updated><title>Dilemma of a Bloggernoulist</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.innovationcreators.com/Blogger%20Gang%20Hand%20Signs%20-%20Small.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 550px; height: 550px;" src="http://www.innovationcreators.com/Blogger%20Gang%20Hand%20Signs%20-%20Small.png" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For starters, there is no such term as 'Bloggernoulist'. I'm sure everyone knows that already (including 'Blogger' which indicates it as an error with the red curvy underline. Interestingly, 'Blogger' is also not a recognizable word).&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After the initial rambling, I now continue writing yet another wayward post. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Three months into India's top Journo school, we now begin our 'Stream Work' i.e. specialization. I'm in New Media and we started off week one with creating a &lt;a href="http://lifeonthenewswire.blogspot.com/"&gt;blog&lt;/a&gt; . This is strictly for class assignments, not for my random ramblings. The purpose of this blog is to follow a developing news story by means of RSS feeds from various news websites and writing a 500 word report. Two reports infact. Guess what I chose? YES! FORMULA ONE.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here is the catch. We need to write our drafts, mail it to the professor in-charge and after he approves what we've written, the content goes on the blog. Now this leaves me completely bewildered.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What is the point of having a blog when there is moderation? A few of us do blog (surprising, considering we are all 'NEW MEDIA' students) and most people aren't even aware of how to set up an RSS feed. Sigh!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I read something written by someone (on an Orkut Community) that "as a journalist, ignorance can be your greatest virtue". I'm not sure I agree with it. Hail New Media!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is unnerving that I should take  half an hour to sum up this post. But at least, announcing now to my fellow bloggers that 'Hey, I'm back'.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gone are those days when writing used to be a lot more fun. Thank god for blogging :)&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2009/10/dilemma-of-bloggernoulist.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><thr:total>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-2151535637903269354</guid><pubDate>Sat, 25 Jul 2009 06:55:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-01-21T10:56:03.964-08:00</atom:updated><title>Chennai Bites</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.chennaipost.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/05/chennai-central-station-800px.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 800px; height: 575px;" src="http://www.chennaipost.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/05/chennai-central-station-800px.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two weeks into hostel life and I still seem to be trying my best to settle in. The heat obviously is a put off. The college, well just getting started on the nuances so I wouldnt want to comment on that. There is a good side and a bad side to everything. I guess I am getting my share of "life experiences".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have made some real good friends here and life with them is a lot of fun. Academics are not up to what I expected - YET. Its just two weeks into it and I am told that there should be a gradual improvement. Hoping for the best. We dont have the internet and wi-fi stuff in place as yet hence there has been trouble accessing internet as freely as I would have liked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still have a lot of blogs pending which I am dying to read. Kindly excuse my lapses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kochu, thanks for the call. It was wonderful talking to you :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And ahem ahem... we got to see a movie as part of curriculum (ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN) ((SUPER DUD!!! I FELL ASLEEP)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will update you guys shortly... reading as many blogs as I can right now...cheerios people...take care :)</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2009/07/chennai-bites.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><thr:total>8</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-977867396448135972</guid><pubDate>Mon, 15 Jun 2009 12:14:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-01-21T10:57:34.765-08:00</atom:updated><title>The ACJ Interview</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.indiacatalog.com/images/logos/local/th_asianmedia.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 95px; height: 95px;" src="http://www.indiacatalog.com/images/logos/local/th_asianmedia.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FF0000;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Update: I have been selected at ACJ.... Will be leaving for Chennai real soon. :) :) :) Thanks for all the wishes and congratulating messages :) :)&lt;/i&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;I wasnt planning on blogging about anything related to the Journalism College entrances and other such details. But I had such a freaky tiring time on this one-day trip to Chennai recently, I had no other option but to share it all with you guys: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Having cleared the Asian College of Journalism's(ACJ) entrance test which was held on 24th May 2009, I was invited for the panel interview scheduled on 11th June 2009 at Chennai. After all the excitement after Snehal's visit, I was in a fix on how to prepare for a panel interview, coz I had never faced such a situation in my life. I was unsure of what they might ask.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I found out to my surprise that another blogger buddy, Trinna Prasad, had her interview on the same day as me. I searched for her on Facebook and sent her a note suggesting we meet up at the venue. Sruthi Radhakrishnan, whom I met at the Manorama School of Communication's entrance test at Chennai, had her interview at ACJ one day before me. Her status updates on Facebook, had me in splits and also kept me wondering about bizzare facts. The General Knowledge bits in the ACJ paper were really tough, and we wondered if we would be subject to more such GK incompetence humiliation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Every imaginable preparation done, and bag packed, I was all set to take the 6.30 am flight from the Shamshabad Airport to Chennai. Anyone who has any idea about how things work in Hyderabad, will know that the airport is a good hours drive. Make that One and a half at peak hours. That meant I had to take the bus at 4.30 am to be at the airport by 5.30am, one hour before the flight time. I set the alarm for 3.30 am, spoke to Snehal before retiring for the night. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I dont remember the alarm going off but I do remember waking up, startled, at 5.09 am. I was almost in tears and ran downstairs to wake up my mother, and tried to find out ways to get to the airport in an hours time. I just changed my clothes, brushed my teeth and called up Air India to ask for the next available flight. I was informed that their next flight is at 4 in the evening. Distraught, I immediately called up Snehal and screamed: "Baby, please come online... I missed my flight...search other available options". His calm and composed demeanor even after just being rudely woken up, is something I lack :P We managed to find a Spicejet flight which left at 9.50 AM and reached Chennai at 11 AM.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I decided to tidy up and leave for the Airport at 6.30 AM, not wanting to take any more risks. I collected my boarding pass, and just waited for the flight to take off. Snehal keeping me company over the phone, of course, and calming my nerves. Then it was announced that the flight was delayed and would leave by 10.30 AM. Time to hit the panic button once again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I messaged Sruthi, who lived in Chennai, and asked her how far the venue was from the Airport. She informed me it was a good hours drive. Damn....more cause of worry, since I had to report at  1 PM. I just kept praying that it doesnt get delayed any further and boarded the flight which took off at 10.35 AM. Reached Chennai at 11.40 AM, darted off towards the pre-paid taxi stand and blurted out "Wallajah Road".... The man at the counter had no clue and kept calling it "Balaji Road". I called up Sruthi once again so that she could spell it out to him. I took the cab and probably roamed a quarter of Chennai, getting lost and finally finding this place at about 1.10 PM. I was relieved that the interviews hadn't gotten underway yet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;All those present were made to sit in a room and I got to experience what Sruthi had messaged me a day earlier: "I feel like I'm waiting at the dentist's". I had good company, in the form of faces I recognised from the Hyderabad entrance. Met Trinna and she is this amazing, cherubic young girl. And just waited for my turn. Every time the door opened and the person last interviewed came in, people kept hounding them for the kind of questions that were asked. I got a fair idea of how things might go for me, and I decided to just speak my mind, no matter what was asked.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Then my name was announced at around 3.10 AM. Although hungry and tired earlier, I had forgotten that all I had that day was Cold Coffee, and confidently walked into the room labelled "Panel B". No sooner had I entered, I was greeted by the sight of 7 intimidatingly smiling faculty members of the college.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;They were very nice. It was pretty casual and I am still trying to gauge what they were trying to asses by asking me about movies and sports. I was confident, spoke without any fear and just said whatever came to my mind. I dont really know if that would help me gain a seat at this prestigious college, but I tried. I took the 6.20 PM Air India flight back home and reached around 9 PM after the 1.5 hour long bus trip. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The results would be out tomorrow i.e 16th June 2009, and I dont know if I make the grade. I am not too bothered as of now, I have my options open at Manorama. But getting into ACJ would be nice, given its reputation amond Journalism colleges. So wish me luck :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Phew this was a long post I believe.  Just wanted to post it on the eve of the results. Have fun guys. Cheers :)&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2009/06/acj-interview.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><thr:total>19</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-6363066863717466135</guid><pubDate>Sat, 13 Jun 2009 04:58:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-12T22:40:13.642-07:00</atom:updated><title>This is what has been happening..</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Yeah I know I've been away for quite sometime now. Ready to give my explanations and excuses :P :P  You ready to hear them??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Firstly, as some of you who have been in touch with me via Facebook or mails or Gtalk, know about the current event in my life. For those who didn't know, I decided to come clean and tell my parents that I am in love with someone, he makes me extremely happy and he is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. His name is Snehal Kumar Patel and he is from Ahmedabad. I fidgeted for hours sitting next to my father before finally breaking the news to him...and in this fashion:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Errr...ummm....Papaaaaa....Mujhe ek ladka pasand hai....." :P :P Looking back, I cant believe that's how I started introducing my Mr Right to my father. I was worried he might say something, but his reaction was pleasant, unexpected and quite contrary to what I had been imagining thus far. He had a wonderful smile on his face and within 10 mins he had concocted the details of when the engagement will be, and the wedding and other details. I had to put the breaks on his thinking process and remind him that I need to finish my studies this year and then we can plan it accordingly. And I need to meet his parents too...which will happen by the end of this month.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The only reason I was telling my parents about Snehal before I started college was the fact that my parents have always encouraged me to come out clean and tell them everything and anything under the sun that pertains to me and my life. I didnt want to keep them in dark and let them know after a year or so. It is never too soon or too late, as I found that out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;My mother's reaction....well she is still trying to digest this peice of information. She always knew that some day I would come and tell her about someone I liked. But when the day arrived, she is having that motherly difficulties and realisation that her daughter is slipping away from her (that is how she put it).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt; Snehal was here in Hyderabad from 5th to 7th of June. He met my parents, sister, my cousin brother and aunt. Everyone loved him.... he has become Mr Popular in his own sense here with my family members. I'm glad they appreciate him as the person he is and they could see exactly why I admire, love and respect him  :) :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Ok I must stop this mushiness now.... I can be at it all day. ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The other major event has been Entrance exams for various Journalism colleges. I'm down to either Manorama School of Communication or Asian College of Journalism. Either way, I am getting out of Hyderabad within a month's time...phew!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Asian College had a panel interview....7 people "sweetly grilled" me on my application on 11th of June. It was a rather adventurous day, one of those days where I survived only on Coffee...I didnt think I was capable of doing that up until that day :P&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;More on the Asian College interview soon....watch out for this space. I'm hungry right now... Leaving you guys with this pic of "Me and Mr Patel" :) :) (Chashmish log) :P&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTWG8rFkzBpErzvOCeYtPHC1jStBHekBC-uVK-HxH8KpspbwrI-lH3OkHjcP24_AkZRlb32cpk7vZhZev9zKDN4PJbPu60wQtNd8CFhdZVrlxg2ZuMeZOwQqr7jnqQ4zDImBqvbags2rxI/s400/Snehriti.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 390px; height: 400px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346677055445982690" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Cheers everyone :) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2009/06/this-is-what-has-been-happening.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTWG8rFkzBpErzvOCeYtPHC1jStBHekBC-uVK-HxH8KpspbwrI-lH3OkHjcP24_AkZRlb32cpk7vZhZev9zKDN4PJbPu60wQtNd8CFhdZVrlxg2ZuMeZOwQqr7jnqQ4zDImBqvbags2rxI/s72-c/Snehriti.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total>19</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-1898376108521172354</guid><pubDate>Sat, 30 May 2009 05:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-29T22:59:44.798-07:00</atom:updated><title>Who let the DOC out?</title><description>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Hellos Hellos Hellos all around.&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;Last night at 12, I had a special 30 second screening of this movie I had been really looking forward to watching. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Its about this young doctor, who learns about food, love, relationship...and eventually salvation. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The Story is about Nithin Jayan a.k.a Kochu, who sets out on his journey into the big bad world. He meets "Miss Red Dancing no-hood" and soon realises that life has different plans for him than he had thought out.  He looks for peace, salvation and finally gives up red riding hood to find a shiny red car. &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;Interesting story really, since its about a doctor and yet, no white coats around :P :P&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Anyways, it is being released on the story's protagonist's birthday i.e 30th May 2009, at hospitals near you. Since the protagonist is a celebrity blogger and my favourite blogger too, I decided to dedicate today's post to him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So Happy Birthday Kochu!!! ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Never mind my stupid attempt at being smart :P :P  I hope I am still up for the life-long free consultation after this :D :D :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Happpyyyyyy Birthday sweetheart..... Have a wonderful day ahead....and an even more wonderful life ahead delivering the "Osamas and Obamas of the world"....cheers mate!! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzJwbECz2z623fnV1wMzzF6x987G1t-VEruZ9nLpIJVf-s5DAstkILkxd-S82Pn94izWocoGR6QiTj0YqGbRw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;</description><enclosure length="0" type="video/mp4" url="http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=781ce877dd59c5a2&amp;type=video%2Fmp4"/><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2009/05/who-let-doc-out.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><thr:total>11</thr:total><itunes:explicit/><itunes:subtitle>Hellos Hellos Hellos all around. Last night at 12, I had a special 30 second screening of this movie I had been really looking forward to watching.  Its about this young doctor, who learns about food, love, relationship...and eventually salvation.  The Story is about Nithin Jayan a.k.a Kochu, who sets out on his journey into the big bad world. He meets "Miss Red Dancing no-hood" and soon realises that life has different plans for him than he had thought out.  He looks for peace, salvation and finally gives up red riding hood to find a shiny red car.  Interesting story really, since its about a doctor and yet, no white coats around :P :P Anyways, it is being released on the story's protagonist's birthday i.e 30th May 2009, at hospitals near you. Since the protagonist is a celebrity blogger and my favourite blogger too, I decided to dedicate today's post to him. So Happy Birthday Kochu!!! ;) Never mind my stupid attempt at being smart :P :P  I hope I am still up for the life-long free consultation after this :D :D :D Happpyyyyyy Birthday sweetheart..... Have a wonderful day ahead....and an even more wonderful life ahead delivering the "Osamas and Obamas of the world"....cheers mate!! :)</itunes:subtitle><itunes:author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</itunes:author><itunes:summary>Hellos Hellos Hellos all around. Last night at 12, I had a special 30 second screening of this movie I had been really looking forward to watching.  Its about this young doctor, who learns about food, love, relationship...and eventually salvation.  The Story is about Nithin Jayan a.k.a Kochu, who sets out on his journey into the big bad world. He meets "Miss Red Dancing no-hood" and soon realises that life has different plans for him than he had thought out.  He looks for peace, salvation and finally gives up red riding hood to find a shiny red car.  Interesting story really, since its about a doctor and yet, no white coats around :P :P Anyways, it is being released on the story's protagonist's birthday i.e 30th May 2009, at hospitals near you. Since the protagonist is a celebrity blogger and my favourite blogger too, I decided to dedicate today's post to him. So Happy Birthday Kochu!!! ;) Never mind my stupid attempt at being smart :P :P  I hope I am still up for the life-long free consultation after this :D :D :D Happpyyyyyy Birthday sweetheart..... Have a wonderful day ahead....and an even more wonderful life ahead delivering the "Osamas and Obamas of the world"....cheers mate!! :)</itunes:summary></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881706098099103926.post-181068046755348874</guid><pubDate>Tue, 26 May 2009 04:52:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-25T22:37:59.988-07:00</atom:updated><title>Here, there and Everywhere...!!</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Well lots to write about, so lets get started shall we??&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;As many of you are aware I had the entrance test for Asian College of Journalism this sunday. It consisted of two parts - English and General Knowledge. After the initial preparation, I was tensed about how well I'd do in the English paper. For some reason, I was relatively confident about my General awareness. And lo... over confidence struck again. Keeping in mind the pattern of the MASCOM entrance (which had multiple choice bits), I thought Asian's test would be on the same lines and should be relatively easier. Hell No!! There were no multiple choices, and the questions... well lets see how many of you can answer these without googling.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;1. Who is the newly elected President of South Africa?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;2. Who is the Prime Minister of Thailand?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;3. Who got elected as the President of Zimbabwe on a power sharing basis with Robert Mugabe?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Ehhhh???&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;What the......?? I didn't know whether I should laugh at cry at myself. Left it all to fate now, so the coming few weeks should seal my future. Further comparing these exams, I had gone to appear for the MASCOM entrance in Chennai as they didnt have a centre in Hyderabad. The ACJ entrance was at THE HINDU office in Hyderabad. The initial reaction of everyone when I spoke to about ACJ being my first choice, was  "Oh Chennai is a horrible city and people are so aloof and unfriendly...Dont go there...Go to Bangalore". Huh?? No one was talking at the THE HINDU office before or after ACJ entrance, while I met some really super cool people at the MASCOM entrance. I liked Chennai better I say. The wait is on for results of these exams, which should be out in a week or two. Lets see how it goes. &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;Secondly, what wrong with people? Why should there be a shutdown of entire Punjab because there was a shoot out in Vienna of all places?? I know it was a gurudwara and a major religious leader there was shot dead. What is the point of burning trains, vandalizing shops, looting here?? Is it making any sort of difference? Mom said last night that "There are loads of people to ignite hatred on religious lines, and people listen to them. No one listens to the one who wants to find an end with peaceful means". Right on I say. Lets see what develops further.&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;Thirdly, I was proudly announcing to every Tina, Dimpy and Mary who'd listen that "We dont have any power cuts in our area...this summer has been reeeeaaaalllly good!!" Haah!!! Ever since that, I seem to have cursed myself. One of these days there was a power cut from evening six to morning 8 owing to rains. And not to mention the frequent power cuts, all day, ranging anywhere from 5 to 50 mins more than 3 times a day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The Worst part of it all was, I had decided I'd follow IPL only if the Chargers made it to the Semis. I was looking forward to spend some quality time with Papa and enjoy the Finals match with him, coz when its cricket....and the slam bang cricket at that.... Papa is as excited as a kid who's won a jackpot of video games. I absolutely love those times.  And thanks to 1mm rain, there was no power and we missed over 3 to 16. Papa had gone back to sleep and  I saw the match all by myself. It was fun, but not the same. He woke up and came to watch the closing ceremony I guess.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Ok now I must end things here. Hope everyone is doing great. And yes, if someone can please please please advice me on what to do about the billion lizards in my house, I'd be your blog slave for life... :P  HELP!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;P.S. I'm still reading Shashi Tharoor...seriously want to chuck it, but then.... :|&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://memoirsofmemory.blogspot.com/2009/05/here-there-and-everywhere.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SMRITI)</author><thr:total>13</thr:total></item></channel></rss>