<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846</id><updated>2025-02-09T23:40:59.449+00:00</updated><category term="Friend"/><category term="friendship"/><category term="love"/><category term="pain"/><category term="friends"/><category term="memories"/><category term="&quot;A stroll down the memory lane&quot;"/><category term="&quot;memory lane&quot;"/><category term="Best friend"/><category term="Child"/><category term="Class"/><category term="Daughter"/><category term="Deja vu"/><category term="Dreams"/><category term="Foreign"/><category term="Hangover"/><category term="Happy"/><category term="Hope"/><category term="Humiliation"/><category term="India"/><category term="Juice"/><category term="Love letter"/><category term="Luck"/><category term="Manipal"/><category term="Memory"/><category term="Mom"/><category term="Mother"/><category term="Old age homes"/><category term="Presentation"/><category term="Shattered"/><category term="Shattered dreams"/><category term="Somebody"/><category term="accept"/><category term="anger"/><category term="betrayal"/><category term="breakup"/><category term="call"/><category term="chat"/><category term="college"/><category term="cricket"/><category term="cry"/><category term="dream"/><category term="elder"/><category term="elder abuse"/><category term="embrace"/><category term="emotions"/><category term="exploit"/><category term="forgive"/><category term="happiness"/><category term="hatsoff"/><category term="hurt"/><category term="if only"/><category term="mistake"/><category term="motivation"/><category term="mourn"/><category term="night outs"/><category term="nobody"/><category term="normal"/><category term="old"/><category term="parents"/><category term="respect"/><category term="sad"/><category term="sorry"/><category term="story"/><category term="unfortunate"/><category term="wizard"/><title type='text'>Life revisited...!!</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>48</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-1479433919197863010</id><published>2023-03-09T17:43:00.007+00:00</published><updated>2023-03-09T20:01:26.048+00:00</updated><title type='text'>You are not any other Big Star!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class=&quot;p1&quot; style=&quot;-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;s1&quot;&gt;You came into my life in such expected circumstances.&lt;/span&gt;I think love finds you and not the other way around. It feels like we can touch stars with our feet while we are still on ground.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;p1&quot; style=&quot;-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;s1&quot;&gt;Problems are feeling lighter, and moon feels more brighter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;p1&quot; style=&quot;-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;s1&quot;&gt;You are that nest on the tree, that’s home to birds. Looking at you smile makes me want that smile to forever stay.&lt;/span&gt;There is so much purity in every word you say that the shield around me has started to melt . I caught myself always singing a happy song and smiling often. It feels like there is nothing that can’t be healed.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;p1&quot; style=&quot;-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;s1&quot;&gt;I don’t really know what this means but just do me a favour, stay by me ,stay what you are , you are not any other big star on the sky but the moon himself !&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/1479433919197863010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2023/03/you-are-not-any-other-big-star.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/1479433919197863010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/1479433919197863010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2023/03/you-are-not-any-other-big-star.html' title='You are not any other Big Star!'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-8971447008609828580</id><published>2023-02-28T15:33:00.014+00:00</published><updated>2025-02-09T19:13:07.615+00:00</updated><title type='text'>Yet Again!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I’m not an open book—yet perhaps a good listener. Maybe that’s why people find solace in me, why they confide in me, she thought.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;While clearing the attic, she found “the book.” She knew exactly what lay within. With a careful hand, she opened it, revealing a dried rose pressed between the pages. In an instant, she slipped into another time, another world.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“It’s hard to be kind in this unfair, deceitful, and selfish world,” she whispered to herself. After having her heart broken and her soul scorched so many times, she realized it might be time to grow cold, practical, and emotionless. Yet, the purity in her heart could not be extinguished. There is always beauty in caring, in helping another, in making someone smile, or simply being there for them.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“My God knows what I’ve done, my God knows what I do,” she mused. Can I unchain myself, shed this heavy baggage, and return to my purest self? Can I emerge from the darkness and let my soul glimmer with hope once more?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Can I shower the world with my inherent warmth? I long for my soul to take over this scarred body. Can I hear my heart whisper that it’s alive again?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I’m unsure if I’m ready to emotionally invest, to be vulnerable, for fear that it will break me... yet again.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/8971447008609828580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2023/02/yet-again.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/8971447008609828580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/8971447008609828580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2023/02/yet-again.html' title='Yet Again!'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-1776665469265792475</id><published>2023-02-27T15:31:00.001+00:00</published><updated>2023-02-27T15:36:28.741+00:00</updated><title type='text'>My Soul Recognises You</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: arial;&quot;&gt;This time Manan was very emotional and serious&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;&quot;&gt;“I know you won’t believe me Neeti, but there was an immediate positive connection I felt with you ! I have been able to share my feelings and vulnerabilities with you which I would never do with anyone else . My soul recognises you and I instinctively know that you are someone I have loved and trusted in the past.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;p2&quot; style=&quot;-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;s1&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: arial;&quot;&gt;Neeti was perplexed . She didn’t know what to say. Manan continued …&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;p2&quot; style=&quot;-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;s1&quot;&gt;“From the&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;s1&quot;&gt;day you&#39;ve come into my life,&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;I feel like dedicating my whole life to you. In such a short time ,you have taught me how to live and to love . You&amp;nbsp;have beautified my whole life just with your aura. Just like how earth meets the sky, you complete me to eternity. You have taught me to love and live my life yet again !&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;p2&quot; style=&quot;-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;s1&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: arial;&quot;&gt;I have never felt this way before.I would have never experienced this if not for you.&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;And now you are making it impossible for me to live without you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;p2&quot; style=&quot;-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;s1&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: arial;&quot;&gt;For the way the events are unfolding , you would also have teach me to live without you”. Manan couldn’t stop a tear rolling down his cheeks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;p2&quot; style=&quot;-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;s1&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: arial;&quot;&gt;He wanted to continue but just then his 5AM alarm went on.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class=&quot;p2&quot; style=&quot;-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;s1&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: arial;&quot;&gt;Manan woke up with a big smile on his face. It was so beautiful and real he thought to himself !&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/1776665469265792475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2023/02/my-soul-recognises-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/1776665469265792475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/1776665469265792475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2023/02/my-soul-recognises-you.html' title='My Soul Recognises You'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-989223615337987670</id><published>2014-08-16T14:16:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2014-09-21T17:50:58.169+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="accept"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="anger"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="call"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="happiness"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="if only"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="normal"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="respect"/><title type='text'>If only...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;15 missed
calls!!&quot; I screamed. My heart raced when I saw all the calls I missed were from her.“She was getting back to normal”, I said to myself.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;I was even more worried when she didn&#39;t answer my calls. After a min my phone
rang and it was her. “Hello”, she said. “Thank god”, I said to myself. “How are
you?” I asked.&amp;nbsp; “You know why I called
you, I am not fine!” she said. “This is not her usual tone” I thought. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;“Do I ask people to like me; do I ask them to be friendly to me or ask them to
be a part of my life? I know I don’t. Then why do they want to be a part of my
life and the very next second pretend as though I mean nothing at all to them.
I mean what kind of people are they? Why can’t they understand that I am not
like others and it’s not easy for me to take it each time someone does that to
me” she said.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“I don’t really talk about
myself be it pain or happiness nor anger. So what?? My life is not an open book
and I don’t want it to be one of those kinds. Whenever it comes to them I am
all ears both to their problems and happiness” she paused. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
“If only they respected my
space. If only they accepted and respected me for the way I am. If only, they
knew that I too can have insecurities to face, love to contend, goals to attain
and battles to fight, if only...” and she hung up.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/989223615337987670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2014/08/if-only.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/989223615337987670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/989223615337987670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2014/08/if-only.html' title='If only...'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-7500522798345142331</id><published>2013-12-22T15:45:00.000+00:00</published><updated>2013-12-22T15:46:15.890+00:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="&quot;A stroll down the memory lane&quot;"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="&quot;memory lane&quot;"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Friend"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friendship"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Happy"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="memories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Memory"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pain"/><title type='text'>A stroll down the memory lane!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Perhaps I just don’t give enough
time to myself but I am happy! I said to myself. I have this weird way of forgetting
things just because I don’t want to remember them. Does that mean I am running
away?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;It’s Christmas and had been to a mall
and I see everyone clicking pictures with the Snowman, the Santa, and the Christmas
tree along with their friends. I stood there for a minute and I realized, I was
alone, but I said to myself yet again, I am happy!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;I just happened to drive through
that way and it took a stroll down the memory lane, recalling the good old
happy days. &amp;nbsp;God! I was happy I said to
myself. Did I just say I was? That freaked me out. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;I came back home and I stumbled
on the photographs, it kind of made me laugh and it took me way back, back down
the memory lane. I saw happiness and pain. I was happy I thought... I am so gone
astray. Where am I now? Sometimes I choose to not look back because that would
make me realize that I am lost. I am now all by my own and would be lost at the
pace at which life is taking me. It’s tearing me apart. &amp;nbsp;I get scared at times, is this all?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;I am petrified
and I don’t want to look back down the memory lane... Coz I thought I was happy
then. Yes, I was!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/7500522798345142331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/12/a-stroll-down-memory-lane.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/7500522798345142331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/7500522798345142331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/12/a-stroll-down-memory-lane.html' title='A stroll down the memory lane!'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-7116349136778147443</id><published>2013-09-10T23:23:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2013-09-10T18:53:57.982+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="chat"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Friend"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friendship"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Hope"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hurt"/><title type='text'>90 Days of HOPE!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Day 85&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;“&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;I will call you later&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;” Hope said. It was his
birthday and she had called him in the midnight to wish on his birthday. But
ofcoz it was his birthday and it seemed like many of his friend’s call was on
wait. So she said, I think you should take their calls, we can talk tomorrow.
He said, “&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;No I will call you later&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;”, for which she said” you have fun, we can
talk some other time, but he insisted, “&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt; No, I want to talk to you and will
call you later&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;” , but seems like “the later” never came till date. She tried doing
her bit to make his birthday special but all she got was a rude response and
zero appreciation. She was perplexed. She was totally clueless for why hope was
acting like a chameleon. &amp;nbsp;It was indeed the last
time they ever spoke.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Day 1&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;She went online after a real long time, and that
marked the first day. Somehow, there was a conversation happening
between them( they were schoolmates). They soon exchanged nos. and went up a
level from Facebook chat to whatsapp chat. Hope then even called her and they had a decent
conversation over the phone that night.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Day 2- day
20&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;They continued to whatsapp every single day. Their
days usually did not begin without greeting each other for the day and it only ended after they wished goodnight. This continued for quite sometime.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Day 20- day
60&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;There was no single day when they didn’t talk to
each other at least once in a day. It could be when he was back from work, or
may be when he was stuck in the traffic or when his friends were partying
outside. They somehow had so much to talk. With days, they emerged to be great friends.
Both of them believed that “it’s nice to remain single” and steered clear off
from the relationship thingy. However, both felt good talking each other,
wherein most of the times he was cribbing about his work, sometimes about the
stupid traffic, and sometimes about the delicious food I used to savor at home.
It seemed to be a ritual for her to pull his legs only to see him give up with a flat answer saying &quot;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;you win&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&quot;! &amp;nbsp;She so enjoyed
doing that. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;At present &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;It definitely took her to those days because the
smile said it all. Her smile faded in no time, coz she didn’t want to be
reminded of that. For, now she decided that she would never get close to
anyone. The faith which she had eventually developed for friendship had now started
to fade.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Day 61- 84&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Things weren’t the same anymore. Reduced were the
calls and the messages. Looked like they had decided to stay away from each for
very own reasons. Good for both she thought. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Day 86&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;She waited almost till the end of his bday but didn’t
get to hear from him. She knew there was something that’s not going right. That’s
why she tried calling him the next day just to find out if everything was ok. &amp;nbsp;But he never answered; she even left him a
message for which she never got any reply.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Day 87- 89&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Only she knew how restless she was during these two
days. She asked herself” I didn’t have any high expectations! did i??” because
all she wanted was his reply. She only wanted to know what made him to just
call it quits. She hated herself for that. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Day 90&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;She typed a last message to him on FB thinking
hundred times before she could send it and then finally she sends it for one
last time and swore to herself that she would never text him or call him again.
She silently hoped that their paths would never cross. &amp;nbsp;She was hurt this time, awfully hurt not because
he went away but because he went away JUST LIKE THAT. After a long time she
tried to trust someone only to end up allowing him to hurt her. She realized she
had it enough, it was time. It was now time to close the 90 day chapter with HOPE!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;At Present&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;There she is today, back to her cold self.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/7116349136778147443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/09/90-days-of-hope.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/7116349136778147443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/7116349136778147443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/09/90-days-of-hope.html' title='90 Days of HOPE!'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><georss:featurename>Mangalore, Karnataka, India</georss:featurename><georss:point>12.9141417 74.855956800000058</georss:point><georss:box>12.6665187 74.533233300000063 13.1617647 75.178680300000053</georss:box></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-376222525247659421</id><published>2013-08-24T19:18:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2013-08-25T05:02:36.977+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="elder"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="elder abuse"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="exploit"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="old"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Old age homes"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="parents"/><title type='text'>Our responsibilities to our parents cannot be fulfilled by any old age homes!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;“&lt;i&gt;I just want to die peacefully&lt;/i&gt;” she said with her trembling voice. I quickly tried to cheer her up, like the way I always do, but she only repeated “&lt;i&gt;I just want to die peacefully&lt;/i&gt;…!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;I now intuited that there was something really disturbing her. I looked at her wrinkled face, and her eyes were moist. I slowly held her hands and asked what was wrong. She said “he abused me and is asking me to get out of here...” I soon realized that it’s the act of the bloody convener. This was not the first time that he has abused her and asked her to get out of that place. For heaven’s sake, he&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;doesn&#39;t&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;own that place! As you are reading this, the first thought that must have come to your mind was that a man is trying to send a lady out of his house. You are right to some extent, but he is not trying to kick her out of his house but out of an old aged home. This is the real story of an 88 year old aged granny and that man is only a bloody secretary of that place. Neither did he build that old age home, nor does he own that place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;In the modern world, old age homes have emerged as an unavoidable necessity. We Indians, who boast about our respect for elders, now consider these old aged homes as a boon in disguise. Most of the professionals have discovered old age homes as a practical solution to their biggest problem, i.e. the problem of taking care of their parents! Most of them forget the numerous sacrifices made by their parents to realize their dreams. The irony is that the grown up children consider their parents as a big burden. This is a sad and a very shameful trend. Elderly parents have to listen to all the abuse from their children at home, but what about someone does not have any children to look after. . They take these old age homes as their asylums only to go through the elder abuse from a local convener of the ashram??!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;The solace the parents get from their children cannot be provided by the luxurious facilities in old age homes. Old age homes are a lame excuse to the atrocities done by the children to their aged parents. The old age homes are not the way they present their rosy picture in front of us. It’s now not only a mere money making business but also a place where exploitation and elder abuse is jsomething which the elderly people of the old age homes needs to go through almost every single day!. Loads and loads of money is usually given as a donation to these old age homes (Sometimes just to try to make up their flaws&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;) and where does all the money go... Simply into the pockets of the cold secretary who claims to be a gem of a person! (Bullshhiiittt!!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;On one of my visit to this particular old age home, I was taken aback when i saw an old age home inmate, who should be in his early seventy’s washing the car of that rogue secretary.. He abuses the old people there because they voiced their opinion regarding the stale food they provided there!( mind you, they do not stay there for free, rather they pay 5.5K every month, where a small glass of milk is charged fifteen rupees whereas the entire packet of milk comes for 14.50 rupees!!) and to add to this, there is no&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;receipt&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;provided! The list doesn&#39;t end here. They are either forced to vacate the place forever and get on the roads or are forced to shift to the 2nd floor all by themselves just because he wants to mint more money by getting new inmates to the floor below for a higher monthly fee. He expects the 76, 88, 74, 82 year old grannies to climb up the stairs and get down the stairs for four times a day and when they request him to send their food to the second floor, all he says is &quot;&lt;i&gt;if you want food then have to you come to the floor below otherwise you are free to die for the good!&quot; &amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;I was shaken on hearing this! May be because I had this naive expectation that humanity still exists. I got shocked by the violation. I mean where is our culture heading to? Why are we forgetting that our responsibilities to our parents cannot be fulfilled by any old age homes!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/376222525247659421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/08/our-responsibilities-to-our-parents.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/376222525247659421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/376222525247659421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/08/our-responsibilities-to-our-parents.html' title='Our responsibilities to our parents cannot be fulfilled by any old age homes!'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-8289471796472091913</id><published>2013-08-14T18:19:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2013-08-15T08:21:15.824+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Deja vu"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dream"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Dreams"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="embrace"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mourn"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Shattered"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Shattered dreams"/><title type='text'>I wouldn’t want to see myself in situations that will feel like déjà vu.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;It seems inevitable that each one of us will at some time in our lives, be touched by the painful experience of a shattered dream. Some people may hold on to a fading dream with tenacious passion, until one day that dream lies broken in jagged pieces at our feet..... Similar is the situation with me, yet again. Gone now is my dream, with only the memory of what could have been.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Tragedy touches everyone. Shattered dreams are real and they can leave a person devastated and broken. But one fine day, I happened to come across this quote “at the end of the day we must accept finite disappointment, but we must never lose infinite hope”. And that was it. I started hoping again and took all the courage to dream only to feel dejected yet again.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Often attempts are made to understand why things don’t work out the way we wanted them to only to end up blaming God for leading us to despair all the time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;But I’ve had enough of these sessions. I now see that my plans have very little to do with anything other than needing to have greater certainty. Uncertainty is the key to dismay, be it uncertainly within you or with people around you. &amp;nbsp;So here is the convoluted mess I have gotten myself in; I make plans that result in a success that will validate my insecurities, but when the plan doesn’t come to fruition or I find that I don’t feel any more validated, all I do is try to understand why God has allowed my noble plans to fail. And rather than seeing it as an opportunity (of getting something better), I layer it with some form of other certainty that will provide immediate relief, but all that I am really doing is working against my real goal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;So rather than wasting my time and energy in understanding my shattered dream, I am now trying to learn from them in the hope that I will someday develop the courage to simply BE ME(whatever that means).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;With that I mean that unlike the other times, I will definitely mourn over the shattered dream. From my recent experience I have learnt that sometimes we really have to mourn over a loss. So when a dream dies, it takes with it all the time, energy, and emotion we invested into it over weeks, months and years. I have decided to take my own time and allow the crushed emotions to heal so that I can retaliate well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Another major mistake I’ve been committing is by getting over the shattered dream sooner than usual and thus rushing to the next. At times, we may tend to feel that we need to move on quickly, sooner, the better would it be. But amidst this quick transition, we fail to give time to look back and think about what made it go wrong the last time. Now that I’ve mourned over a shattered dream and also given myself enough time, I will now embrace a new dream because I do &amp;nbsp;not want to suppress my vision for my life.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&amp;nbsp;I dont’t want to see myself in situations that will feel like déjà vu.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/8289471796472091913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/08/i-wouldnt-want-to-see-myself-in.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/8289471796472091913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/8289471796472091913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/08/i-wouldnt-want-to-see-myself-in.html' title='I wouldn’t want to see myself in situations that will feel like déjà vu.'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-5847500845593746477</id><published>2013-08-11T19:01:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2013-08-12T16:59:32.660+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I have found relative peace in the darkness</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;Dear You,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;Wish we could just be friends without allowing the feelings to creep in between us... I was so sure of not letting it happen to me..&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;I started dreaming again..from the moment I began developing feelings for you, I knew things were not going to be easy to deal with. I always told to myself that we are just friends, but I had already started seeing you in a different light but chose to keep that little secret within me...because I know I shouldn’t feel the way I do about you.. It&#39;s crazy to even think about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;I was devastated that I ever said that to you.. I am shattered for the fact that I let out that little secret of mine when we both knew that would ruin everything between us.. I was blinded by my emotions and somehow spoke my heart. I can&#39;t help but wonder what is actually going through your heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;I failed to understand how complicated the whole situation was for you, and now I feel terribly embarrassed by my actions. I don’t see any conversation happening between us. But i crave for those calls and messages. I may appear strong but mind you I am only holding myself back.. But then again to be honest, it’s getting difficult.. It is getting very difficult to cycle through all these emotions. It’s hard and it hurts. But I can get through this.. for feelings are all just temporary.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;Amidst the darkness..you somehow lit up my life but the truth is even that was temporary. &amp;nbsp;However I now know it&#39;s a lost cause and I have found relative peace in the darkness..!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;Yours,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;Anonymous&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/5847500845593746477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/08/i-have-found-relative-peace-in-darkness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/5847500845593746477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/5847500845593746477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/08/i-have-found-relative-peace-in-darkness.html' title='I have found relative peace in the darkness'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-256019284213331956</id><published>2013-07-01T18:18:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2024-09-26T16:59:52.690+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hatsoff"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="nobody"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Presentation"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Somebody"/><title type='text'>From a Nobody to Somebody!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;The clock struck two, and the tension in the room was palpable. Our hearts raced, and some of us quietly prayed for a favorable outcome. I saw a few clasp their hands in silent pleas—“anyone but him,” they muttered under their breath. Even I closed my eyes, hoping for the same.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In under a minute, the door to our classroom swung open, and the panel of professors began filing in. The first professor entered, and we exhaled in relief—safe. The second entered, and we muttered grateful thanks. The third professor arrived, and a collective sigh of relief spread across the room. But then came the fifth and final professor, and the atmosphere shifted instantly. It was him: “GP,” the “virus” of our college, known for being relentlessly strict. A wave of dread washed over us. We knew we were in trouble.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The occasion? Our technical seminar—the start of a series of presentations that had turned into a nightmare for us and a source of amusement for our professors. I was the third presenter on the schedule, waiting nervously for my turn. The first presenter was thoroughly grilled; the second was bombarded with relentless questions. Then, GP called my name, a signal that I was next on the chopping block. His tone made it clear: “Be prepared.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I made my way to the podium, which felt more like a battlefield than a platform. The countdown began. I started my presentation, trying to steady myself. To my surprise, it went smoothly. The room was attentive, and I had all eyes on me, including the professors. I braced for GP’s inevitable interruption, anticipating his barrage of questions. But it never came.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thirty minutes passed, and I reached my final slide—“Questions.” Silence filled the room. I looked nervously at the professors, but none of them spoke. Concern crept in. What had I done wrong? Then I saw something unexpected: smiles. All five professors were smiling.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Breaking the silence, GP gave me a smile—a rare, genuine one—and said something I never imagined hearing: “Hats off to you, Namratha.” I was in shock. Did he really just say that? It was surreal. I looked to the other professors, and they simply nodded in agreement.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;GP’s words are engraved in my memory. Receiving praise from someone you least expect it from is a feeling like no other. For me, it was a turning point—a much-needed boost to my confidence. Those words marked the moment I transformed from someone uncertain into someone self-assured.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Though GP is no longer with us, his impact on my life remains. I never got the chance to thank him, but I carry the memory of that day with deep gratitude.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/256019284213331956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/07/from-nobody-to-somebody.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/256019284213331956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/256019284213331956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/07/from-nobody-to-somebody.html' title='From a Nobody to Somebody!'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-6730103647111620538</id><published>2013-06-02T19:36:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2013-06-02T19:38:07.749+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Child"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="cry"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Daughter"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mom"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mother"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pain"/><title type='text'>She is the one who loves you the most- Love her back!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;One saying which I strongly believe is that “God could not be everywhere, and therefore he made mothers.” .. The mother’s touch.. Nothing can replace a mother’s touch. The touch of a gentle hand that is placed on our foreheads when we are down with fever, Vicks swiped across our tiny nose when we have cold, the anxiety they have until we return back home from a late night party or a hand that reaches out to us when we cross the street.. When things are not going right in her child’s life, nobody else will bother but the mother will always be worried. She will have a fear of unknown which we misinterpret as possessiveness. &amp;nbsp;We all have noticed this.. We all know that our mother does this for us, but most of the times we bury these thoughts in the back of our minds and as we grow up we tend to replace these with the new ones without even looking back and appreciating all that our mother has done for us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;I looked into a mother’s eyes and I could see her remembering all the good times she once had with her beloved daughter. She tries to look forward but her mind goes back.. she wants to know where she went wrong.. She wanted a way to fix this… she wanted to fix this broken glass and she tries hard.. she tries hard to protect it from shattering because for her all that matters to her is her daughter alone for she is her love, the love of her life, she is her family.. the very reason for her existence but all she gets is being blamed all the time..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;No matter what our mom say or do, we feel that she can never seem to do right. What is most hurtful is that we start blaming her for everything wrong in our life since we are unable or unwilling to take the responsibility for our actions or consequences. We children often do it to our mom’s. It happens to mom’s all over the world. We fail to understand the battles that she is been battling and we tend to make such harsh accusations on her causing her tremendous amount of pain. We expect them to be perfect when we are nowhere near to it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;Mom’s never proclaim themselves as the best mom’s because they feel that they have failed everytime we cry.. &amp;nbsp;they never want us to cry and whenever we did, their eyes too would be moist and still she tries to be strong just for us. That’s the love she has for us and she only hopes that we too feel that love for her, we too will adore her completely, we too shall love her at last…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;We children are no less than knives because we may not really mean to cut, but eventually all we do is CUT.. but our mother still cling on to us. That is the love of a mother. We definitely cannot give her all that she has given us, but we can atleast love her in return…Not all mothers are the same. Some are the kissing mothers and others are the scolding mothers but the love that they shower on us is just the same. The unconditional love..! She is the one who loves you the most- Love her back!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;Love and respect your mom when she is there... because once she is gone, you are over...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/6730103647111620538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/06/she-is-one-who-loves-you-most-love-her.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/6730103647111620538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/6730103647111620538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/06/she-is-one-who-loves-you-most-love-her.html' title='She is the one who loves you the most- Love her back!'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-4288375078160539067</id><published>2013-05-24T16:14:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2013-05-24T19:13:15.173+01:00</updated><title type='text'> Unsurpassed actual night adventure!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;It was my study holidays and it was
about 2 in the midnight and I was still up, busy preparing for my engineering semester
exams. I was just about to wrap up and catch up with some sleep when I suddenly
hear my pet Julie barking like never before. I quickly sensed that there was something
wrong. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;In a matter of few seconds I heard
some weird sounds.. n number of thoughts came to my
mind. I was wondering what that sound could possibly be and soon did I realize that
there was something seriously wrong .. i knew there was someone there.. and Julie’s bark confirmed it for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Without wasting any time I quickly
put on the lights of the garden and opened the window just to find out what was
actually wrong. My parents too who were way too asleep were woken up to the
sounds of Julie’s bark. My dad too quickly realized that there was something
really wrong and he quietly opened the door only to find out that there were
two thieves in the opposite compound.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;In no time, my dad stepped outside the
house and the thieves nippily grasped that their game was up and ran for their
lives. My dad went chasing them and my mom was a little paranoid with whatever
was happening. I too then took my two wheeler and went chasing those rogues at 2
in the midnight and went looking for them almost to cover about half a mile.. But
those crooks somehow managed to get through a deserted road and then escaped
into the wild. After a tough chase, I and my dad then returned home only to
find out that we had saved our neighbors from the theft but unfortunately had
to let go off our brass pipe.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;I&#39;ve&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;always loved adventures and always loved the
CID officer within me but this was the first encounter&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;I&#39;ve&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;had with the real
thieves. It was one of the unsurpassed actual night adventures&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;I&#39;ve&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;ever had.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/4288375078160539067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/05/unsurpassed-actual-night-adventure.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/4288375078160539067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/4288375078160539067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/05/unsurpassed-actual-night-adventure.html' title=' Unsurpassed actual night adventure!'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-4893123979955269999</id><published>2013-05-15T21:31:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2013-05-16T10:40:29.183+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="betrayal"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Love letter"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pain"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sad"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="story"/><title type='text'>We Tend to Accept What We Think We Deserve!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Trrrrriiiiiingggg….
“Hello” , I said picking up the call from this unknown number. There was a lot
of noise in there, and I was quite very sure the person at the other end could
barely hear me speak. I screamed out my throat and said “helllloooo”, and I heard
a bare shaky voice, hardly able to utter a word.. I was numb for a while and I thought
I should just give some time to her..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;I couldn’t really
understand what was wrong, amidst this silent conversation, I now knew that
there was something wrong. After about a min the voice continued, still
shivering she said “ all the painful things what he did to me, I thought I will
surely do to someone else, just because I can enjoy the feelings he had after
putting me into that shit, but who knew that I would fall into this whole shit
again”. I was startled, and before I could utter a word the voice continued..
now a little sturdy than before.. “Everything was shattered and I didn’t want
to collect those broken pieces of my heart. I thought I was getting over him ..
but it was more like my perception and not the hard core reality. I just had
tamed my heart and mind in that way”.. and the voice paused.. I did nothing but
acknowledged with a hmmmm..&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;There was
silence like never before, and in a matter of few seconds, the silence was
broken with all the weeping and wailing.. she started to read out a letter
which she found in her closet. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;“My love,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;We surely did go through a lot in our &amp;nbsp;years of togetherness. The courting stage and spending
every moment together. I driving all the way till your house just to spend five
mins or just to get a glimpse of you.. and to exchange smiles.. Every time I pass
through that street, I cant tell you the extent to which I miss you. How you
used to make me wait there for hours and then finally you arrive, giving some
vague reasons and no matter how angry I would be, that made me smile. Damn, you
knew every trick to bring a smile on my face!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;But the fights we had were the worst. I loved you so much. Seeing you angry at me, for every single thing, hurt
me real bad. I was being shattered every single day. I’m angry at myself for
failing to change because I still wait to feel you in my arms again. Through
all the bad things we faced, we certainly did have some wonderful times though. We
made the best of every moment. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;When we broke up, I said it was because I saw what
we were doing to each other. The pain I was causing you and pain you were
giving me, I wanted it all to stop, because I loved you enough to do that. I
can see now that I love you enough to do anything to stop that pain. Instead of
letting me go I wish you could have stopped doing things that hurt me and we
could be together. I was looking for peace and serenity and when i realized it
was no more there, I feared that you wouldn’t love me. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Well, it had to be about me someday.. you have torn
my life apart..it was loving you and feeling betrayed, feeling like I poured my
heart out for you, begging you to be there, but you never cared. Ive now learnt
to live, half-alive, so i don’t want you to come back for me.. Don’t come back at all.. I know we can never be together.. but this is
killing me. God, I miss you so much, even if it means we can never be together.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;-Love, as always, &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Your Love”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;And she burst into tears. I could hear
her sobbing and I was absolutely clueless on what I could do.. wish i could just give her a tight hug.. I could feel the pain
she was going through and I wept along with her. She paused for a while. There was silence again. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;She asked me “why nice people choose
to love the wrong people?”, why do i choose to love people who treat me like nothing.. and I said “Because we tend to accept love, we
think we deserve!.. most of the times, forgetting we deserve a lot better” . &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;This was the first sentence I spoke in
the whole 30 min call. The very instant at which I completed my sentence, the
voice at the other end said “hello”.., this time it was more like a confused
one. . Only then did she realize that all this while she opened the pages of
her life to a complete stranger. It was then she realized that it was a wrong
number! and before i could say something,, she hung up..!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/4893123979955269999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/05/we-tend-to-accept-what-we-think-we.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/4893123979955269999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/4893123979955269999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/05/we-tend-to-accept-what-we-think-we.html' title='We Tend to Accept What We Think We Deserve!'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-4339098890037388929</id><published>2013-05-08T18:12:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2013-05-16T10:55:39.870+01:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="college"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="cricket"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="emotions"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friends"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Manipal"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="memories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="night outs"/><title type='text'>To stand-out or to Blend-in and I chose the latter!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;There you go I
said, locking my flat 502 for the very last time and thus officially bidding bye
to Manipal after two short years.. (yes, I mean two very short years). My mind was pre-occupied.. it was elsewhere.. it took me back to day one of the Manipal episode..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;It was the month of
August and I was already a month and a half late to college. It was the first
day of my&amp;nbsp; life at Manipal, the first day
of my class and I had this feeling of how my classmates would react on my
entry. (infact, I was a little paranoid on how MANIPAL would be, whether I had
to stand out or to blend in..) It was just about eight thirty and I walk into
the class just to attract a few surprised looks. I chose to sit in the third
row corner seat and every time a guy or gal walks into the class they pause n
and were giving me weird confused looks (more like the “whose thaaaat gal kinda
looks”) , with weird&amp;nbsp; people around me, I
somehow I wanted to laugh at the situation, but by then Sir walks into the
class. The first hour was Quants and it was more like the fast and furious class.
In no time the first hour got over and then the second hour begins.. The actual
beginning… the sense of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;liberation.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;It was the second
hour of the day and we have these groups and fortunately or unfortunately I ended
up being in a all guys group… “The group 6”, with six guys and I being the only
girl of the group. I was introduced to each of them. The guys felt that my
entry would ruin their freedom and b-talk fun. But things were soon different
and I was welcomed with open arms ( a lil bit of exaggeration here).. But yes,
seriously things actually started happening...yes, the blending in, not only
with the group but with the whole of Manipal. Be it the dreaded arguments with
The Varun Jiii( G), or the fun of watching Roshan wake up between assignments..
:P .. (my stomach still aches when I think of that NP’s assignment in 502) or
sitting hours together at IC and doing nothing at all!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Being Human to Being Animal to “Being Teacher”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;I never thought
that I would do something like that after thirteen long years. Yes, I danced! I
performed on the stage along with my crazy friends for our annuals and to add
to it, I was the dance teacher for my crazy naughty students. Of course the
songs chosen were taporish! (Tilak, Chithresh, Abhi, Aadi, Shreyas, Shashank, Sankesh, Sachin, Manish, Rahul, Praju..) My god… these guys actually made me realize the
level of patience I have.. I am proud of myself ..:P).. The unlimited fun we
had during those days shall be cherished throughout. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;It was then high time that we start studying.. it was now the time
for real learning. Yes, it was exam time and I again continued my journey
as a teacher..teaching the brilliant lot! ( :P.. let me admit.. I am actually
being sarcastic!) God! It was not an easy task and I always prayed to god to
gimme all strength and courage to face my students..who always had&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 24px;&quot;&gt;weirdest&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;doubts making me dumbstruck!) but it was amazing.. the
cooking in between the study, the tea breaks, Rathnamma’s dinner, and not to
forget, trespassing into my own apartment.. (a weird case wherein the teacher had
to literally jump off the compound wall and enter into her own apartment! )..&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;There&#39;s a first time for everything&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;First ever
compering, winning cricket match, receiving medals on the victory stand, the beach
volleyball, gazing at the stars in the midnight sitting by the sea, &lt;/span&gt;the marijuana and the
holi&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;the crazy wacky night
outs, playing for the university, etc…etc.. I owe it all to Manipal..&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 150%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;My college undoubtedly presented me with a lot of good
memories and off course a few bad ones. I’m just glad that my good memories
heavily outweigh the bad ones. Those countless “unofficial” tours, the post-exam celebrations,
the movies, watching people wait in long queues at the aunty shop to take
photocopies.. &amp;nbsp;( most of the times I was only a spectator coz I never believed in
wasting money on photocopying and ofcourse the go green philosophy..!),
allowing my assignments to be royally raped ( and for all the effort I make to
sit and write those assignments, I used to score just one mark! ), those &quot;Ganga&quot; &amp;nbsp;birthday parties..( I think I have missed out two letters.. :P), those n number of sleepovers, bunking classes, striving so hard to meet the 75%
attendance mark, the endless nights and then the eight o clock class, the early
mornings by the beach, the heated debates on each and every small thing…..the
cats and dogs fight with otrashi.. the cards, the destination X trips.. the
house parties , screaming out my throat while standing on the car top... and the list just goes on and on. Not to forget, &amp;nbsp;Radhanand, Madhumalathi.. I am gonna miss you
like crazy.. ( to add on to it, Lakewoods ( more like our rehearsal hall, and
premier heights- all the four being our Manipal &lt;i&gt;Basera!)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;With so many emotions and memories I handed over the keys
to the owner thereby closing the Manipal episode. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/4339098890037388929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/05/to-stand-out-or-to-blend-in-and-i-chose.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/4339098890037388929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/4339098890037388929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/05/to-stand-out-or-to-blend-in-and-i-chose.html' title='To stand-out or to Blend-in and I chose the latter!'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-4575013694521300078</id><published>2013-04-22T19:39:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2013-04-23T16:24:47.596+01:00</updated><title type='text'>“Coincidences mean you&#39;re on the right path.”</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;“I wouldn’t say he is out of the
world but he is definitely unique”&lt;/i&gt; Nirmiti said trying to describe this guy
called Parth. It was a Saturday and It was really long that Nirmiti met her
best friend Saee and they were discussing a lot of things (of course to make up
for the lost time). &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Then Nirmiti said she had to tell
something to her. Saee quickly figured out there was something interesting
ahead and she was all ears to Nirmiti. &lt;i&gt;“I
wouldn’t say I like him, but he is a nice and a different guy. I think we definitely
have a good chemistry to share&lt;/i&gt;” Nirmiti said. This is getting interesting;
Saee said and placed her interest to see him.&amp;nbsp;
But Nirmiti continued saying that &lt;i&gt;this
guy doesn’t have a fb account and hence I still continue to stand by my words&lt;/i&gt;..
Saee was taken aback and wanted to see him at any cost. She knew very well that
Nirmiti was extremely choosy and if she found a guy interesting then either he
is weird or he is really crazy. But though Nirmiti had met this guy a couple of
times, she didn’t have anything else apart from his number. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;The next day was a lazy Sunday
and Nirmiti was in a freaky mood to have some fun. She had this weird idea of
watching a creepy movie and after a lot of hue and cry, Saee finally agreed to
go along with her for the movie. It was an afternoon show, and they both
finally reached the theatre. They were walking towards the ticket counter and
look.. Whom does she see there!! Yes, it was Parth. Nirmiti was dumbstruck and
Saee had no clue for what was happening. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Nirmiti quickly came back to her
senses and walked towards the ticket counter where Parth was equally stunned.
He said he was there with his mum and he added that they could sit together.
But Nirmiti quietly denied and Parth walked away with his tickets. She then
asked for two tickets and by the time she could book, Parth walked in again and
said the guy at the ticket counter to book four tickets in a row. Both Nirmiti
and Saee were now dazed and Saee was pinching and poking Nirmiti and
simultaneously asking what the hell was happening. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Nirmiti now formally introduced
Parth to Saee so that at least she could realize what was actually
happening. But Saee’s brain had taken a toll and probably it was in no mood of
getting back to work, and thus left Saee clueless. By then, all the four, i.e.
Nirmiti, Saee, Parth and his Mother had to walk towards the entrance and Saee
pulled Nirmiti aside and asked what the f**k was happening. Nirmiti then said, &lt;i&gt;why do you need a photo when you get to see
him here, he is PARTH&lt;/i&gt;! It was then that she realized that the guy whom she
so badly wanted to see, was now right in front of her. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Parth, as Nirmiti had rightly
described about him to Saee, was a real easy going guy and in no time, Saee came
out of her awkwardness and was now comfortable. It was close to two hours in
the movie hall and the movie was almost to end. Though it was like a chewing
gum, the best friends had a good time at the cinema hall mimicking and mocking
at the actors.( though, they had to control to a certain extent since Parth’s
mom was next to them) The movie ended and they walked out of the cinema hall.
Parth asked Nirmiti if they had any plans. Nirmiti and Saee definitely had
their own plans of shopping and then going out somewhere and making it “the girl’s
day out”! Nirmiti said &lt;i&gt;no big plans as
such Parth, just a little bit of shopping and probably go somewhere&lt;/i&gt;. But
Parth had some other plans for the three of them and said, &lt;i&gt;alright, I shall join you girls for the shopping and then probably we
could go out somewhere&lt;/i&gt;. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Nirmiti and Saee exchanged looks
and both knew that they so badly wanted the girls day out. So they said some
other time and started walking towards the vehicle and Parth again called them
and said, &lt;i&gt;leave your vehicle here and let’s
go out. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Now come on, this was heights,
not only did Saee get to see Parth but happened to end up having dinner &amp;nbsp;with him. For Saee it was a
co-incidence in real sense.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;“The probability of a certain set of
circumstances coming together in a meaningful (or tragic) way is so low that it
simply cannot be considered mere coincidence. ” It was no different in case of
Saee, Nirmiti and Parth. It was a mix of circumstances coming together (Saee’s
eagerness to see Parth’s pic, planning for weird movie on a lazy Sunday, Parth landing up there and then a dinner together and the best part was that it
was all unplanned!). Sometimes &lt;i&gt;“Coincidences
mean you&#39;re on the right path.”&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/4575013694521300078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/04/coincidences-mean-youre-on-right-path.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/4575013694521300078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/4575013694521300078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/04/coincidences-mean-youre-on-right-path.html' title='“Coincidences mean you&#39;re on the right path.”'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-1648891428417420349</id><published>2013-03-31T07:02:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2013-03-31T20:11:59.395+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Do you define a true sportsperson just by mere scores?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;h3&gt;
&lt;/h3&gt;
&lt;h3 style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large; line-height: 17.77777862548828px;&quot;&gt;“Participation is more important than winning..!” this quote is the one which I have heard a million times during my schooling, and I am sure almost each one of us has heard this n number of times in our life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large; line-height: 17.77777862548828px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large; line-height: 17.77777862548828px;&quot;&gt;Being in sports throughout my life, I have learnt that nobody should be obligated to win. But one should definitely be obliged to keep trying. But now, you are obliged to win otherwise you are no-where. Sad but true, you are not remembered to have participated but remembered only if you are a winner. But it’s often forgotten that there are times when even Tendulkar got out on a duck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 17.77777862548828px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 17.77777862548828px;&quot;&gt;Winning is what matters to everyone otherwise why would they only retain the score but not your game?! I am hurt and devastated because I always believed that the important thing in life is not the triumph but the struggle, the essential thing is not to have conquered but to have fought well. The important thing in sports is not so much winning as taking part. The important thing in life is not victory but the battle. Of course, to have conquered feels great but the essential thing is not to have conquered but to have been a good loser. By participating in various games and sports, we learn something from it. I have learnt that and I have experienced it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 17.77777862548828px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 17.77777862548828px;&quot;&gt;Participating in a sport in which you are not good, but participated for the fact that the team needs you, is the sign of a true sportsperson. I have experienced it. Taking all pain to form a team just because you want to represent your team is the sign of a true sportsperson. I have experienced it. Sometimes, I didn’t emerge out as a winner. But I participated and was recognized. My game was recognized. I have experienced it. Taking part in an event just because the event would get cancelled otherwise, is the trait of a true sportsperson. And I have experienced it. Participating gives one self-esteem and I have experienced it. No two people can come first, so even by coming in last, remember you finished your goal regardless, as long as you finished so, coming in last. So one has to be proud. I am proud because for me it’s an accomplishment though others can’t see it; I can always feel the joy of triumph because I can’t let one bad moment spoil a bunch of good ones.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 17.77777862548828px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 17.77777862548828px;&quot;&gt;Playing a game is never really playing an opponent. You are playing yourself, your own highest standards, and when you reach your limits, that is real joy and I have got that joy. I have always tried to be true to myself and pick those battles I felt were challenging. It’s an experience and learning and I have experienced and learnt from it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 17.77777862548828px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 17.77777862548828px;&quot;&gt;I&#39;m thrilled, I&#39;m grateful, I&#39;m blessed. I played all the sports I have dreamt of. My ultimate responsibility is to myself and I have achieved for myself. There are two options ahead of you. Quitting and daring. Quitting is easy, but daring is hard. I have dared. Dared to loose, dared to triumph, dared to succeed. I do not go with mere scores.. but I am a winner.. a winner in my own way.!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 17.77777862548828px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 17.77777862548828px;&quot;&gt;True sportsperson never quit and i am a sportsperson. Once a sportsperson, always a sportsperson.. Cheers to every true sportsperson and to the never dying true sportsman spirit.!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large; line-height: 17.77777862548828px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large; line-height: 17.77777862548828px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large; line-height: 17.77777862548828px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large; line-height: 17.77777862548828px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 17.77777862548828px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/h3&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/1648891428417420349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/03/if-winning-was-not-important-why-would.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/1648891428417420349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/1648891428417420349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/03/if-winning-was-not-important-why-would.html' title='Do you define a true sportsperson just by mere scores?!'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-1122372775373064854</id><published>2013-03-10T17:25:00.003+00:00</published><updated>2023-02-28T15:42:45.374+00:00</updated><title type='text'>Escape in Issshhtyle.. !</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;It
was one of those crazy days when I and Su.., used to go on rides almost every
single day. &lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;It
was about 8 in the evening and we were heading back home from rigorous jogging. (Yep,
those were the days when we were tremendously health conscious and were easily
ten kgs lighter.)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Yea,
coming back to the return journey, it was a one way road and I see a few
vehicles stopped in the front. I indicated that to Su, who as usual was in her
own world. She too realized that something was abnormal and by the time we both
could make sense of what was actually happening, we were almost there!
Unfortunately, I first happened to see the SI, a fat strict man. And then by
the time I could imagine what he could do if we were
caught, I see these two guys in civil dress, showing their sticks and asking me
to stop.&amp;nbsp; And I had to stop. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Like
the rest of the days, this time I was just not worried to stop my vehicle because , I
had my smart DL to show off. I parked my vehicle in issshtyle, told Su, that “ill
be back”. I bravely and proudly walked towards the inspector, and showed him my
DL (as though it was not a DL rather, it was more like I was the special squad
officer). He glanced through it and said, oh good, now get me your RC,
Insurance and emission test certificate. He was still talking and I looked to
my left, and I see this guy pleading with the SI, and the SI says, fine Rs.
500/-. &amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Though,
I was the one who rarely panic, this situation really freaked me out. I was not
sure if I had those documents with me, and on top of it I was out without my parents’
permission! What the hell am I gonna do, if that fatty fines me! With so many
thoughts hovering my mind I walked towards Su. She quickly realized there
was something wrong. The first thing I did was opened the seat to check if the
documents were there and my bad luck continued.. there was
nothing at all! I looked at Su.., we exchanged looks, unlike the other days, she was my hope! &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Now
it was a do or die situation for us. Ok, we had to somehow find a way out. But there
seemed no way out, because, the police were everywhere. So many of them. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;I
simply carried a cover in hand, which was actually a set of few photocopies of
my notes :P, and pretended to wait in the line to get our documents cleared. After
sometime, we pretended as though we had our documents cleared and walked back
towards the vehicle, opened the seat and dumped the photocopies. We then
started the vehicle and looked to our left, there was no one, looked to our
right and two policemen were staring at us. With all courage, we said, “Aithala Sir?”
(that’s it right) and he said aithu aithu( done) and we said thank you and sped
from there in no time. Oh my God, and the way we screamed out of relief. It still gives me chills! &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;P.S.
Though it was the only time I panicked, till date, whenever we pass that
place, Su, never let go off a chance to pull my legs. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/1122372775373064854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/03/escape-in-issstyle.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/1122372775373064854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/1122372775373064854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/03/escape-in-issstyle.html' title='Escape in Issshhtyle.. !'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-2448760407631366066</id><published>2013-02-20T14:43:00.005+00:00</published><updated>2013-02-20T14:47:28.083+00:00</updated><title type='text'>First check on my checklist.. :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Dated back to my schooldays, there was a poem which spoke about the beauty of the very famous Jog falls and there is a line that says one has to see the jog falls before he/she dies. &amp;nbsp;But this is just one thing which people should do in their lifetime and I have a big list of things which I want to do in this lifetime.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;And having a big list of “to-do” things and then actually fulfilling them gives you a felling which can’t be explained. Yes, I got this feeling when one of the things “to-do” in my wish list came true.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Grown in an environment where there were no gals around undoubtedly made me play games not with pretty looking dolls, rather I grew up playing cricket. Cricket was my favorite game and having my bro and dad who were great cricket fans, I too unknowingly followed them and thus became a huge cricket fan. Though I played cricket for years, never did I get a chance to play cricket match. (Hmmm... A gesture is more than enough to the wise) and for the ones who didn’t get it, yes, this was one of the “to-do” things of my wish list.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;What better opportunity can I get when I am given the liberty to add games of your choice when you are conducting the inter-class matches? I being one of the sports coordinators decided to conduct the inter-class girl’s cricket match. Each one of them mocked at me listening to the idea. People even said that, “ultimately you will be the only one playing on the field”! I didn’t give up. I even had to face obstacles from the physical directors and some sadist’s spreading rumors like the match is cancelled and etc., etc...&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;However, as we all know “A Strong Passion for anything will Ensure Success!” &amp;nbsp;And yes, the dates were fixed, the ground was booked, and the big day finally arrived. And I definitely had a strong passion for cricket and woooppaaa…It feels great... Not only because I have successfully conducted the match but also to emerge as winners!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/2448760407631366066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/02/first-check-on-my-checklist.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/2448760407631366066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/2448760407631366066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/02/first-check-on-my-checklist.html' title='First check on my checklist.. :)'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-8581551192325434422</id><published>2013-02-04T17:00:00.002+00:00</published><updated>2013-02-04T17:01:26.379+00:00</updated><title type='text'>A fall to remember- 3 levels of delight!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;&quot;&gt;It
was a real long time since we all cousins went for an outing. After a long
debate on where to actually go, taking into consideration the various pros and
cons, we finally decided to for a drive and then to a far off beach. (That was
my idea :P) Though Rithanna kept cribbing on the idea of going to such a faaar
beach, we were least bothered, since we were too busy with enjoying the drive. &amp;nbsp;The journey was fun with lots of teasing, insulting,
imitating and what not. &amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;&quot;&gt;Finally
we reached our destination. BEACH.. Wow.. It was so lovely.. We were clicking
pics, simultaneously enjoying the nature’s beauty. The touch of salty water
against our feet…. It was all lovely.. Everything was so well in place until
the moment struck.. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;&quot;&gt;My
sis who just loves Charumburi, wanted to go to buy Charumburi, all busy in calculating
how many would we need and I did the counting and looked straight up to her and
said the count is five.. When she was all set to go to buy, .. Wooopaah! What a
moment it was.. I, who was looking straight at her, in a fraction of a second couldn’t
find her.. Coz she was lying flat at her back on the sand.. ! we all burst out
into laughter.. it was indeed a fall to remember for her. &amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;&quot;&gt;Then,
she went n got Charumburi and once we were done with eating them, I and my bro
thought to have a small photo-shoot amidst the waters. &amp;nbsp;Until then the water was so calm that it was
just brushing against out feet.. so we stood there and started clicking pics in
different angles. We were so immersed in the whole photo-shoot thing that we didn’t
realize that a big wave had made its way towards us. . Only when it made its
impact on us we happened to realize.. maahnn…what the.. we &amp;nbsp;screamt! Yes, that big wave actually made us literally
drench. . We ran from there all drenched in water..&amp;nbsp; by then it was already dark and we planned
walk back towards the car. .&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;We were all walking since we still hadn’t neared
our car. There were so many cars parked on the right hand side and suddenly we
hear the sound of the car door opening. We were all startled at the sound since
there no one walking behind us. We all turned back to see what was happening
and to our amazement and surprise it was none other than my sis. (exactly! What
was she doing with that car) .hea hea.. She thought it was our car and happened
to take her seat and even funnier part was, the car wasn’t locked and that’s how
she managed to open the car door... it took about a few seconds for us to realize
what exactly was happening. The min we realized that, we burst out into
laughter.&amp;nbsp; We were on the middle of the
road and were laughing like crazy. We laughed and laughed till our stomach’s
ached. By then, there were a few other people who witnessed the scene and that
made us laugh even harder. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;It
was a wonderful day.. With three levels of delight..!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/8581551192325434422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/02/a-fall-to-remember-3-levels-of-delight.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/8581551192325434422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/8581551192325434422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/02/a-fall-to-remember-3-levels-of-delight.html' title='A fall to remember- 3 levels of delight!!'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-2274892112284080336</id><published>2013-01-09T17:18:00.003+00:00</published><updated>2013-01-09T22:25:37.904+00:00</updated><title type='text'>We are F.R.I.E.N.D.S.!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
I was walking from the gate
towards the college. I see this monkey (My personified human friend) looking at
me right from the minute we could actually start seeing each other. He was my
senior and I hardly spoke to any of them, however he just somehow happened to my newly
hi-bye friend. I looked at him, n smiled and he too smiled in return. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
That smile costed me a lot.. ( I&#39;ve been tolerating him&amp;nbsp;ever-since&amp;nbsp;then! :P)&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He then pinged me.. however, I only thought that he had a crush on one of my
friend’s and that is why he wanted to get to her through me. But only later,
did I realize that the reality was far different. (Don’t worry; he didn’t have
a crush on me or something) He thought I was different, since I was always on
to my own, and thought that I was in some deep shit, and possibly wanted to help me out
of it. (Beat that..) But in reality, he was the one who was in the deepest everrrrr shit. I do understand people and I always knew that there was so much mystery
behind that ever smiling face. He laughed but his heart never laughed and I
knew it and this is exactly I told him when we started talking. And stupid
Nelson, (yes, he is the glorified personified monkey :P) had no choice but had
to agree to it, and that’s how our journey of friendship began. Though he had
loads of people around him all the time, I knew that he was alone and being
there for him was my new goal. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
We used to talk every day and he
made it very clear&amp;nbsp; that he is not the one on
whom, someone can rely upon, and kept exaggerating, that girls fall for him and
the minute he realizes that, he would plainly walk out. &amp;nbsp;( now come on, who said
that I would rely on him, or who on earth said that I would fall for him!, ofcoz it was more like a donkey praising its own tail.. :P)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
Hea hea, he got offended and he
said, I bet that in another six months’ time, u will fall for me, I said..
waaaaaaat?! I took up the challenge and said that I shall pay you thousand
bucks if that happens, and its implied to you as well.. And the bet still
stands up..coz we are meant to be F.R.I.E.N.D.S.!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
We spoke, we spoke and we spoke..and we speak..we speak n we still speak.. I was sometimes a strict teacher, sometimes a student friendly teacher for him,
sometimes a good friend, and sometimes a terribly bad friend…(coz I kept yelling at him most of the times) and slowly I learnt almost everything about him and thus,
eventually from just a mere friend he turned out to be one of my real good friends.(Go back to the dialogue.. &quot;u r ma beeeeessssst friend&quot;!)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
Today on this day, I want to
thank you for being there and damn… I so badly wanted to be in the same batch..
maybe this is the way it had to be… you are a wonderful person and one sincere request...please just
catch hold of someone and get married soooooooon.. :P&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
P.S. You need to thank me, coz you finally you got a place in my blog.. :P and u know why I wrote it today, coz otherwise you will never read any of my posts... :P :P&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/2274892112284080336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/01/we-are-friends.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/2274892112284080336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/2274892112284080336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2013/01/we-are-friends.html' title='We are F.R.I.E.N.D.S.!'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-4587224791435270608</id><published>2012-11-27T08:46:00.000+00:00</published><updated>2012-11-27T08:47:33.192+00:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Class"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Humiliation"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Juice"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="motivation"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="unfortunate"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wizard"/><title type='text'>HUMILIATION — A BLESSING IN DISGUISE</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
“I shall put you in a mixer, grind
you and make each and every classmate of yours to drink that juice”! These were
the words that came out of one of my lecturer’s for ME!!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
I was still in the second year of
my engineering and fortunately or unfortunately (more of unfortunate) I was the
class representative and even unfortunate was the fact that we had our classes
scheduled on the top most floor and to add to this, there was no elevator. Now
why do I call this as unfortunate, because as a class rep I am supposed to get
the chalk, the projectors remote and do all that shitty work for which I had to
eventually shed a couple of kilos (from an ambassador to the tango) climbing up
and down the stairs. To be honest, it was so so soooo much pain. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
And there was this particular
lecturer who would never be happy without sending down to fetch something or the
other and that made me real crazy. He was a pain. For me he was like warlock taking classes
for us which were no less than nightmares. He was more like a wizard with those
devilish powers who could cast a spell and I was on the hit list of his spells
because I was that unfortunate class rep and that too of the class in which I
never wanted to be. I hated my class.&amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
It was obvious that he didn’t
like me, and the feeling was no different for me either. There were many reasons that
supported it. That every hour he used to take was more like short film, with a mix of teaching and drama
which comprised of humor (which was humor only to him) and thrill because there
were instances wherein he used to threaten students that, if he/she fails to answer
the question, he shall throw him/ her out of the 5&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; floor through
the window and if they happened to answer then, he himself would jump down
(neither of which ever happened). So every day we had this short movie for an
hour and also eating our precious interval time every single day (The time, when I could
meet my friends from the other section) and this continued&amp;nbsp;throughout.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
One day, he had given us an
assignment, and he said, “Namratha, you are the class rep (damn, not again! I thought) and
it’s your responsibility to collect every person’s assignment and see to it
that it reaches to me by 12:30P.M., failing which I shall put you in a mixer, grind
you and then make each and every classmate of yours to drink that juice”! Having
this very bad habit of imagining and picturing things as and when people talk,
the very thought of it made me to giggle (though I wanted to laugh out my
heart) but then I realized sir is still staring at me.. ! you must be wondering
what on earth made me giggle when the rest of my classmates were so scared and
serious. Hea..hea.. The fact is that, by then I had realized that humiliation
for him, was a way to motivate his students. Somehow, every time he humiliated me, it
gave me a feeling of being doubly blessed..(or may be I was just getting used to it)&amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
Days passed, and I was in the
final year, final semester where we have technical seminar, wherein every
student has to choose a technical topic and present on it for twenty minutes
and ten minutes for the&amp;nbsp;Q &amp;amp; A. A
dreaded panel of about four to five lecturers was formed to evaluate the seminar.
We all hoped that the wizard&amp;nbsp;doesn&#39;t&amp;nbsp;turn out to be in our panel, but my bad
luck continued. Yes, he was one among the five panel members, all of them were
just like him. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
Five of us were to present that
day, and I was the fourth presenter of the day.&amp;nbsp;The previous three were royally screwed and it was my turn now. I begin my presentation at about 3:10 P.M. and I stopped talking
only at 3:45 P.M. I had stopped because I had reached the end of my
presentation, the thank you slide and I was now waiting for that dreaded panel
to shoot n number of questions at me. I looked at each of the panel members and,
one of them called my name out. I looked at him. He just shook his head and
said, “For your level of confidence, and for the way you presented today, HATS
OFF!!” and he not only said that, but he actually did it and applauded..and the entire class joined hands to applaud !! He also added that
“I wanted you on and on”. I still could not believe..Can I get a better compliment than that? Could I get it from him? Yes, it was
not from any other person, but from GP himself. (Yes, the wizard or the
warlock I was referring to was him, The GP Sir). He also added, “I don’t think, either of
us have any questions for you. “&amp;nbsp; And
what a day it was.&amp;nbsp; All this while, he
blessed me through his humiliation and today he had actually praised me with
all dignity and I was so immensely blessed. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
I never met him after my
graduation. I always thought I shall meet him when he can be proud about the fact that I was his student. The time was nearing, I wanted to meet him, but I can never meet him again because God had some other
plans. A call from god made him disappear. He is now gone, gone forever, leaving
behind the memories. Never ever will I forget that day, his words, and his way
of inspiring, his humiliations (motivation in disguise) and never will I forget
him.. R.I.P. GP Sir.&amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/4587224791435270608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2012/11/humiliation-blessing-in-disguise.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/4587224791435270608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/4587224791435270608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2012/11/humiliation-blessing-in-disguise.html' title='HUMILIATION — A BLESSING IN DISGUISE'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-8118789037419460427</id><published>2012-11-02T15:15:00.003+00:00</published><updated>2012-11-02T15:19:15.568+00:00</updated><title type='text'>HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANNA..!! :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Dearest Anna,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Today is your birthday and I would
want you to know my innermost feelings. One thing you ought to know is that,&amp;nbsp;I&#39;ve&amp;nbsp;always admired you.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Your method of caring, is perhaps
the thing I love most about you, your deep thoughtful side and the way in which
you present it, your unique though offensive ability to advise without pompous judgment,
to subtly point at my mistakes and the direction I should take and of course the
way you care for each of our family members, with your unique, steady,
peaceful, but powerful love. &amp;nbsp;It makes
you different from the rest.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;We both are so different, and to be
honest, it’s so hard to choose just one trait as my favorite when there are so
many things to love about you. Your smile, your consistent quest for knowledge,
your self-control, your intelligent thoughtfulness, and the list goes on and
on.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;It’s your birthday today. So&amp;nbsp;I&#39;ve&amp;nbsp;grabbed the opportunity to tell you, how lucky I am not to have big brother
like you, but to have you specifically as MY big brother and dear friend. There
is no one else in this world like you, Anna. Though you are a hopelessly stern
critic, you are wonderfully special and I love you immensely. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Happy Birthday.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Love,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Nammi :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/8118789037419460427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2012/11/dearest-anna-today-is-your-birthday-and.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/8118789037419460427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/8118789037419460427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2012/11/dearest-anna-today-is-your-birthday-and.html' title='HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANNA..!! :)'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-8035863906354138288</id><published>2012-10-12T09:14:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2012-10-13T07:33:57.642+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A letter to my brother</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;It
was the 30&lt;/span&gt;&lt;sup style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt; of September 1997; I was still in class 4. The
excitement of the India-Pakistan match was on, and what a match it was!. The
thrill was building up and the&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;land-line&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;phone rings.&amp;nbsp; My dad answers the call and without uttering
a word he drops the call. But I, my brother, and two of my cousins were so lost
in the excitement of the match that we&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;didn&#39;t&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;realize when the remote was taken
from my hand, and when the TV was put off. Dad immediately asked us to get
ready to go to my grandma’s house. We instantly sensed that something was
wrong. I looked into my parents eyes just to see if I could get answers to the
questions piling up in my mind, but both of them refused to maintain any eye
contact with me.&amp;nbsp; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;We
were to almost reach the gate of my grandma’s house, that we heard the
neighbors scream out of joy.. Yeah, we had won; India had won the match against
Pak.&amp;nbsp; It was no small thing and I wanted
to celebrate the win along with them. But I&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;couldn&#39;t,&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; for I knew there was something
wrong. We went into the house, only to see that my uncle and&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;aunt&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;were all
ready to go along with my parents. I could see my grandma who was totally
clueless of what was happening, sitting on the sofa and asking if someone could
tell her what was going on. The&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;land-line&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;at my aunts’ place was ringing without
taking a break; calls were made and received one after other in no time. Amidst
all the conversations then went over the phone calls, I could only sense that,
indeed there was something wrong. Something seriously wrong at Surathkal and it was something
about Chandu Anna. My mom then called my brother and me aside and said, “take
care of your grandma and the two cousins. We may be a little late.” &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;We
along with my grandma were just the four of us left at my grandma’s place. I
had to take care of my grandma and the two cousins. It was difficult for me since
throughout the night, my cousin only kept asking what had happened to Chandu
Anna. I wiped his tears and tried consoling him telling that
nothing has happened and nothing will happen to him. I gave him a tight
hug only to hide my tears from him. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Chandu
Anna, was my mischievous cousin who was more attached to me and to my family
than to his own family members. Every weekend he used to come home and when the
vacations were on, hours after his last exam, he would be with us back at Mangalore.
30&lt;/span&gt;&lt;sup style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt; September was no different. It was the last day of our exams
and his exams too. After writing his exam he came outside his school to catch a
bus to Mangalore. But his wait went for long and when he made&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;inquiries&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;he
realized that due to some strike, there were no buses plying from Surathkal to
Mangalore. He walked back home in despair. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;But
he had some good news for him at home and chicken Kebab was the good news. Yes,
just like me, he was a complete non-veg freak and having chicken at home was no
lesser than good news for him.&amp;nbsp; But
before he could reach home, his neighbor and his best friend called out for him
and said “anyway you&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;aren&#39;t&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;going to Mangalore, come, let’s quickly go to beach
and come”.&amp;nbsp; My cousin promptly agreed and
even before his mom screamed out “don’t go son, I have prepared chicken kebab
for you”, he unheard the call and went, for, the gods call was far greater than
hers. He went with the call and never came back. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;I
was completely upset and shattered because it was more than impossible for me
to believe that he was gone.&amp;nbsp; No more he
would come home on weekends. No more, would he pinch me or beat me. No more
would he irritate me. No more would he make me laugh. It was all over.! It was hard for me to
digest the fact that he was no more. I&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;couldn&#39;t&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;think of not remaining in touch
with him, so I decided to continue to stay in touch with him. Yes, I decided to
write letters to him. I had a diary and I tore out a page from the diary and
wrote letters to him every week. I used to tell him everything that had
happened in the week, the good and the bad and if there was nothing to say at all,
I would just ask if he was alright.&amp;nbsp; I
wrote special letters to him wishing on his birthdays and also on the day he
left me. Sometimes, even sorry letters if I did anything wrong or just for the
fact that I&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;couldn&#39;t&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;write to him the previous week. All these letters were
put away in a green color plastic container which was safe in the drawer and
this went for weeks together, for months and eventually for over years. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Years
went by, and my letter box was almost full when one late afternoon, my mom
walked towards me and hugged me tightly. I had absolutely no clue for why she
was doing it. I looked at her wondering what made her hug me and then she
showed me the green box and also the diary! I&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;didn&#39;t&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;know what to say and I
broke down. She hugged me yet again and said, “The letters won’t reach him”. I
then realized that it was the time for me to grow up. I understood that my efforts to actually create memories was a mere fantasy. I had to grow up and live with
the memories rather than trying to create more. I had to discard it all. Gone
with the wind were the letters I had written to my brother...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/8035863906354138288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2012/10/a-letter-to-my-brother.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/8035863906354138288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/8035863906354138288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2012/10/a-letter-to-my-brother.html' title='A letter to my brother'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-7314013147532918756</id><published>2012-09-30T16:08:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2023-08-11T16:07:35.621+01:00</updated><title type='text'>She is I, I am Me!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;S&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;he was a seed sown. Making her entry to this mother earth on a rainy day... only if they knew it was not just mere rains. The heavy rains only pronounced that the mother earth &quot;wept for joy&quot; over her birth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;One who plants a tree, plants a hope and hope was inevitable to surround her... &amp;nbsp;She was nurtured... Nurtured with all love and care, nurtured in a way such that she could be a tree, a “tree of life”. She was watered, for without which she&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;wouldn&#39;t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;survive...She needed timely boosters , and she definitely&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;didn&#39;t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;fall short for it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;Now she is all groomed.. And how beautiful it is to see and stare at her. Her head high with buoyancy, she is tall, confident, beautiful and straight-forward.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;With every move she makes with the wind, she draws a new painting, a picture of her own, that takes her to heights, for she knows that sky is the limit and the birds soar high in the sky.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;That slender athletic ribs of her allows her to learn from her defeat and to evolve as a winner with the ping pong ball tossing high up in the air.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;With every rustle she makes, she portrays it in her picturesque writing for; she believes life is a story. Every day is a new story and every story adds life to your life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;She always know her way to reach out.. For, she knows she is articulate. The fruits may be hard outside but she has a clear and soft heart inside.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;The juice of motivation she gives can make anybody strong; for she knows she is a good motivator and makes people’s long life so joyful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;Be it day or night, when stars and moon are bright, she smiles and still continues to inspire people to smile in perfect sight, for she believes that you laugh and the world laughs with you; but you weep and you weep alone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;She withstands, be it the rains, she withstands, be it the thunderstorms, she still withstands.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;With every gust of wind, with every peril she receives, and with every fall, she comes back, she comes back strong for, nobody can shake her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;She is always proud to stand, for her roots are tightly holding grounds bound and controlled by the principles of her own.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;She has gradually grown...a grown coconut tree..&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;Now she sways majestically when the wind blows hard and sings through the leaves... Oh dear. She is I, .. I am me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/7314013147532918756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2012/09/she-is-i-i-am-me.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/7314013147532918756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/7314013147532918756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2012/09/she-is-i-i-am-me.html' title='She is I, I am Me!'/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265593261048960846.post-3959901320420022281</id><published>2012-09-02T18:05:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2012-09-02T18:05:48.045+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I am tired of being there for them! </title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
It&#39;s that wonderful old-fashioned idea that “others come
first and you come second”. This was the whole ethic by which I was brought up.
Others matter more than you do, so I thought I&amp;nbsp;shouldn&#39;t&amp;nbsp;get fussy about this
whole thing. But, for how long can I get on with it. &amp;nbsp;Nobody likes to be hurt. Do we? Whether it is
physical or mental, pain can be traumatic. Why do we feel so much pain? The
pain that is caused due to your near and dear ones, the emotional pain. I want
to decode this pain.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
How can we not feel hurt when one loses someone or something
that is dear to them? I don’t. Because, we can read inspirational quotes, grope
our way out of the darkness, or share our sorrow with a best friend but what if
that best friend fail to understand you. Some get used to the pain, while
others overcome the pain and regain control of their life. I fall in the second
half. I have become strong in life because I can’t remember when and who hurt
me. When you can&#39;t remember why you&#39;re hurt, that&#39;s when you&#39;re healed.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
How many times have you felt that someone hurt you on
intention? How many sleepless nights have you spent because of the feeling of
being hurt and being used? I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself,
if I could see the big picture. Is it me who is actually allowing them to take
me for a ride? It is so hard to digest the answer. Yes, it was me.!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
I am not saying that you shouldn’t have any feelings for
others but we should set our priorities right. Shouldn’t we? Seeing the
complete picture will reduce the bad feelings associated with any situation.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
If you are going through a difficult phase, and are unable
to cope, it is time to realign your thoughts. Dealing with pain is an important
part of growing up. We should become mature, wise, and more tolerant with the
passage of time. But I laugh, I love, I hope, I try, I hurt, I need, I fear, I
cry. The folks you help won&#39;t realize that you have these emotions because they
need you just because they need you. &amp;nbsp;I
too want to experience how it feels to feel the need. Yes, I want to be there
for myself. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;
I must learn to love the fool in me, the one who feels the
need to be there for others. I never allowed anyone to hurt me, because I
always thought that nobody can hurt me without my permission but m tired. I am
tired of being there for them..&amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/feeds/3959901320420022281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2012/09/i-am-tired-of-being-there-for-them.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/3959901320420022281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265593261048960846/posts/default/3959901320420022281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://namratharao.blogspot.com/2012/09/i-am-tired-of-being-there-for-them.html' title='I am tired of being there for them! '/><author><name>Life Revisited</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11336444261050441600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>