<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;C0INSHw8cSp7ImA9WhRWGUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907</id><updated>2012-01-08T02:56:39.279+05:30</updated><category term="Nostalgia" /><category term="passion" /><category term="child" /><category term="Ria" /><category term="personal" /><category term="relationship" /><category term="MICA" /><category term="pain" /><category term="Prose" /><category term="Poetry" /><category term="change" /><category term="humour" /><category term="abuse" /><category term="love" /><category term="past" /><category term="Rehaan" /><title>Impressions</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>97</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/blogspot/RrdR" /><feedburner:info uri="blogspot/rrdr" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUAFQXk5cCp7ImA9WhRWEkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-3933902868534382050</id><published>2011-12-30T16:45:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-12-30T16:45:10.728+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-30T16:45:10.728+05:30</app:edited><title>Tempestuous</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/3933902868534382050/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/12/tempestuous.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/3933902868534382050?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/3933902868534382050?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/0pFXkNpFgBw/tempestuous.html" title="Tempestuous" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">It all fell apart
with one angry word

Immature and small
Or so i was told

Never rational caring or humane
Just some angry fireball

Impulsive, re...
the list goes on

These are my laurels
my faults on display
In this public world

Wavering sanity,
i had a free fall

The tempest has passed
A calmness prevails
Over my wrecked world...
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8B5igJDQUi9-hH5QQEA2oYIIfcc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8B5igJDQUi9-hH5QQEA2oYIIfcc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8B5igJDQUi9-hH5QQEA2oYIIfcc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8B5igJDQUi9-hH5QQEA2oYIIfcc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/0pFXkNpFgBw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/12/tempestuous.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck4CQ3kyeSp7ImA9WhRTE0Q.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-8496181284620886900</id><published>2011-11-04T12:46:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-11-04T12:46:02.791+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-04T12:46:02.791+05:30</app:edited><title>Bed-time tales</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/8496181284620886900/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/11/bed-time-tales.html#comment-form" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/8496181284620886900?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/8496181284620886900?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/IlYqm-2H1OM/bed-time-tales.html" title="Bed-time tales" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><content type="html">Sheets of love
and muffled words
blend into the square form
and its limitations

The longing arms
caress that slight dent
on the mattress
to find someone

And ache in its absence

Yes, you were here
somewhere
says those fingertips
which felt your breath that day

And now lies numb &amp;amp; dead

Come back here.
That dent fits well with you
like cinderella's shoes
would do

And so would the arms
that 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nygrmehmvFNBmrIMRV3MYQaSBKI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nygrmehmvFNBmrIMRV3MYQaSBKI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/IlYqm-2H1OM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/11/bed-time-tales.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUIBRnkzfSp7ImA9WhRTEkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-1170356437576249494</id><published>2011-11-02T11:29:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-11-02T11:29:17.785+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-02T11:29:17.785+05:30</app:edited><title>And i shall not speak</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/1170356437576249494/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/11/and-i-shall-not-speak.html#comment-form" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/1170356437576249494?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/1170356437576249494?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/pklb8ToPRks/and-i-shall-not-speak.html" title="And i shall not speak" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><content type="html">My wordsdon't speak whatmy mind says
The rational &amp;amp; caring wordsturnIrrational and hard
And i am leftto deal the blowand deal with the blow returned
And you don't stand by mebut leave me alonewith your rational, conditional love
You judge &amp;amp; weighAnd do the "right" thingrather than the blind one
I am the DuryodhanaWith no Dhritarashtrato love me back
So now I shall not speakI will let things 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lAzUQkMnE7xRjNxm7dvruoQQ9GY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lAzUQkMnE7xRjNxm7dvruoQQ9GY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/pklb8ToPRks" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/11/and-i-shall-not-speak.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0YGQng8fip7ImA9WhdbE04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-3475048928311140495</id><published>2011-10-11T17:42:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-10-11T17:42:03.676+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-11T17:42:03.676+05:30</app:edited><title>Adieu-less</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/3475048928311140495/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/10/adieu-less.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/3475048928311140495?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/3475048928311140495?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/Ktd2apBqGkE/adieu-less.html" title="Adieu-less" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">The curtains were flapping silently in the room while the fan whirred and whirred. 

There were a mixture of noises in the background: clanking of the utensils, splashing of water &amp;amp; a pressure cooker's whistle with the steam sputtering out. 

The rush of people getting ready to go to office could be seen with a car moving out of the compound every other minute. The honking of numerous cars on the
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Pg_v2CcXacO2Y5pcgs3zbduJovg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Pg_v2CcXacO2Y5pcgs3zbduJovg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Pg_v2CcXacO2Y5pcgs3zbduJovg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Pg_v2CcXacO2Y5pcgs3zbduJovg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/Ktd2apBqGkE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/10/adieu-less.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEYBSX8-cCp7ImA9WhdbEkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-6192602391477482331</id><published>2011-10-10T16:59:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-10-10T16:59:18.158+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-10T16:59:18.158+05:30</app:edited><title>Snapshot</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/6192602391477482331/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/10/snapshot.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/6192602391477482331?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/6192602391477482331?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/tlvNoDJmYJ4/snapshot.html" title="Snapshot" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Unending banterOne after the othertalks &amp;amp; longer talksbut no information unfold...
Laughter breakingthe monotonyof the same oldsame old life...
Freezing of timefleeting glimpsesof the bygonethe one to have lived for...
And then roll backto the mundanebut with that smileand a hidden spark...
The day of freedomis not too farnot too far anymore...
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0VAoTaXGKfsn7vMLMJc6XfIyMtw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0VAoTaXGKfsn7vMLMJc6XfIyMtw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/tlvNoDJmYJ4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/10/snapshot.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUYGQXg4cSp7ImA9WhdWGU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-2014082275510259721</id><published>2011-09-13T23:35:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-09-13T23:35:20.639+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-13T23:35:20.639+05:30</app:edited><title /><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/2014082275510259721/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/09/yes-we-were-there-again.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/2014082275510259721?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/2014082275510259721?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/81AQFkfD130/yes-we-were-there-again.html" title="" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Yes we were there
again...

when i smiled
coz i could feel the curves
of your lips
form into a crescent moon
when you shared your joy
with veiled suspense

when i felt
your spirit filled with hope,
love and trust
to give it a chance
and make life colourful
with shades of bliss, fate &amp;amp; game

when i knew
you are with that someone
you were destined to be
not a stop-over
but the final train

Yes, we 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/R3bGVp2q2gSMXkdf_Xhqw77r1tw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/R3bGVp2q2gSMXkdf_Xhqw77r1tw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/81AQFkfD130" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/09/yes-we-were-there-again.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0MMSH46fip7ImA9WhdWGU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-3648320231925772132</id><published>2011-09-13T23:08:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-09-13T23:08:09.016+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-13T23:08:09.016+05:30</app:edited><title>Dreams or something else...</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/3648320231925772132/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/09/dreams-or-something-else.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/3648320231925772132?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/3648320231925772132?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/XEOBb2hnAgg/dreams-or-something-else.html" title="Dreams or something else..." /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">To wake up in a sudden abrupt way and being wide wake in less than a second.

A cold sweat down the back of your neck, shivery palms &amp;amp; dried parched mouth. 

That unsettling feeling that something isn't right. Peering into the unfazed &amp;amp; sleeping face next to you, which lies undisturbed, unaware of your fear. 

That acute sense of complete loneliness. That need of mom's warmth. To tell you '
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RVy7UsNTvKh4g1LOWxchMkuO22I/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RVy7UsNTvKh4g1LOWxchMkuO22I/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RVy7UsNTvKh4g1LOWxchMkuO22I/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RVy7UsNTvKh4g1LOWxchMkuO22I/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/XEOBb2hnAgg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/09/dreams-or-something-else.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQFRn86cCp7ImA9WhdRGEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-6750000935299808243</id><published>2011-08-09T12:15:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-08-09T12:15:17.118+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-09T12:15:17.118+05:30</app:edited><title>Walking by</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/6750000935299808243/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/08/walking-by.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/6750000935299808243?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/6750000935299808243?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/Gac6UI7a-EQ/walking-by.html" title="Walking by" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">I like walking alone by the sea in the night. You cant see anything other than reflections of far off stars. You hear the waves but are unsure if they would reach you this time or fizzle off before splashing against you. You are alone but you can feel the big wide world out there like the lives in the sea. There is a peace but there is also a constant churn taking you high and low like the tides.
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JHY1aSwMGWPOtiDOk2rr6L8IgbA/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JHY1aSwMGWPOtiDOk2rr6L8IgbA/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JHY1aSwMGWPOtiDOk2rr6L8IgbA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JHY1aSwMGWPOtiDOk2rr6L8IgbA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/Gac6UI7a-EQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/08/walking-by.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4ARHgzcSp7ImA9WhdSF00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-7193834239877815952</id><published>2011-07-27T00:49:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-07-27T00:49:05.689+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-27T00:49:05.689+05:30</app:edited><title>Four, not a bad score</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/7193834239877815952/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/07/four-not-bad-score.html#comment-form" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/7193834239877815952?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/7193834239877815952?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/5jH9cewIvq8/four-not-bad-score.html" title="Four, not a bad score" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><content type="html">So who was it? Did he say it or did you pop the question?
One of the most common question that has been thrown at me. Who proposed whom?

And every time there is this awkward pause. How do you explain to anyone that neither of us really proposed. It was just a moment and we knew.

We gave no gifts
We made no speech
No letters shared
No words were there
He held my glance 
i held that stare
Our 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WXpxBOKa0-BVewGE7wR64Fi34Co/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WXpxBOKa0-BVewGE7wR64Fi34Co/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WXpxBOKa0-BVewGE7wR64Fi34Co/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WXpxBOKa0-BVewGE7wR64Fi34Co/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/5jH9cewIvq8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/07/four-not-bad-score.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak8DR3g4fSp7ImA9WhdSFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-1350558035399220464</id><published>2011-07-24T14:44:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-07-24T14:44:36.635+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-24T14:44:36.635+05:30</app:edited><title>As we speak again</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/1350558035399220464/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/07/as-we-speak-again.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/1350558035399220464?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/1350558035399220464?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/9nTmHkecdoU/as-we-speak-again.html" title="As we speak again" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">When was it last
that your thought went past
my mind? What a contrast
from the days &amp;amp; weeks
i spent in the dream
of you making me go weak
in the knees?

Such is the case
that within your embrace
lies my last love, my last grace.
i fold my hands into one
but i find no one
who would show me the dawn.

i held my peace
then. But now my smiles cease
to make any sense, to ease
the pain i feel every 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4VaFiAItCswHV8uGhxcAkVom-wo/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4VaFiAItCswHV8uGhxcAkVom-wo/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4VaFiAItCswHV8uGhxcAkVom-wo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4VaFiAItCswHV8uGhxcAkVom-wo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/9nTmHkecdoU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/07/as-we-speak-again.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkYNRHc8cCp7ImA9WhZaGUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-7830890046610484742</id><published>2011-07-07T03:06:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-07-07T03:06:35.978+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-07T03:06:35.978+05:30</app:edited><title>Now how?</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/7830890046610484742/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/07/now-how.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/7830890046610484742?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/7830890046610484742?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/g5zgPV7KfeA/now-how.html" title="Now how?" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">I heard those lines
Someone had read them
Some other day
In the same rhythm

I heard those words
They were the same
But had lost the touch
Lost the charm

You said you knew
I said I knew
But they were forgotten
As time flew

Searching for the source
I walk again
You think it has a reason
You still think i am sane

Forgotten in some corner
I lie on a soft bed
Comfortable but numb
Fearing to tread

&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/09-Mx6kgg1dHfR_DzXhzF7whMKg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/09-Mx6kgg1dHfR_DzXhzF7whMKg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/09-Mx6kgg1dHfR_DzXhzF7whMKg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/09-Mx6kgg1dHfR_DzXhzF7whMKg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/g5zgPV7KfeA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/07/now-how.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D04MQX44fSp7ImA9WhZWFk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-2501353676694082208</id><published>2011-05-17T15:21:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-05-17T15:23:00.035+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-17T15:23:00.035+05:30</app:edited><title>In love no more</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/2501353676694082208/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/05/in-love-no-more.html#comment-form" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/2501353676694082208?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/2501353676694082208?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/R1cmtx32ehY/in-love-no-more.html" title="In love no more" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><content type="html">in love no more
no more i am
in eyes of yours
i see her charm
in love i felt
your beating heart
your smile now melts
her broken heart
in love no more
no more i am
in love i swayed
in love i danced
in love some more
i gave you chance
in love of hers
you are in trance
in love no more
no more i am
in love you are
you are too far
in love i had
your thoughts so clear
your soul now holds
her smile and 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tP_N9JCg9NRNonG3e4wtwpGdjV8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tP_N9JCg9NRNonG3e4wtwpGdjV8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tP_N9JCg9NRNonG3e4wtwpGdjV8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tP_N9JCg9NRNonG3e4wtwpGdjV8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/R1cmtx32ehY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/05/in-love-no-more.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkANRn84cSp7ImA9WhZWE0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-1857534390406039915</id><published>2011-05-12T06:24:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-05-14T02:03:17.139+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-14T02:03:17.139+05:30</app:edited><title>Just a passing thought</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/1857534390406039915/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/05/just-passing-thought.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/1857534390406039915?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/1857534390406039915?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/FkKsrVchYMk/just-passing-thought.html" title="Just a passing thought" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">Up and down, round and round
Up and down, round and round

That is what happens when you stop the gym and eat the sweets.
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wNIh78U4W4rLZnN9nGRtp14KYck/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wNIh78U4W4rLZnN9nGRtp14KYck/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wNIh78U4W4rLZnN9nGRtp14KYck/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wNIh78U4W4rLZnN9nGRtp14KYck/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/FkKsrVchYMk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/05/just-passing-thought.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D04HQn0zfCp7ImA9WhZQGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-9130585293227322507</id><published>2011-04-27T11:54:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-04-27T12:02:13.384+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-27T12:02:13.384+05:30</app:edited><title>A place for you, a place for me</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/9130585293227322507/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/04/place-for-you-place-for-me.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/9130585293227322507?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/9130585293227322507?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/Ayz31Kddh98/place-for-you-place-for-me.html" title="A place for you, a place for me" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">"Why would you say that?"
"It is unique. It has the woody feeling. It has the old world charm, quaint, but it is bubbling with the young and new. It is at the most obvious places, but you need to have an eye to find it. You can't see the sea, but you can smell the salt in the air. The crowd is close by, but you can't hear it. It is all of that and more..."

The coffee mugs looked more beautiful. 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZXHmCrfy8PHuCcKMlOXHpgsVMDw/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZXHmCrfy8PHuCcKMlOXHpgsVMDw/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZXHmCrfy8PHuCcKMlOXHpgsVMDw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZXHmCrfy8PHuCcKMlOXHpgsVMDw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/Ayz31Kddh98" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/04/place-for-you-place-for-me.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0IEQXo9fCp7ImA9WhZQFko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-852418055523406184</id><published>2011-04-25T00:28:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-04-25T00:28:20.464+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-25T00:28:20.464+05:30</app:edited><title>Who loses more?</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/852418055523406184/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/04/who-loses-more.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/852418055523406184?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/852418055523406184?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/kh-MlzeJWrw/who-loses-more.html" title="Who loses more?" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">On the first page of our story
The future seemed so bright
Then this thing turned out to be so evil
I don't know why i'm still surprised...

And surprised i stay
looking back at all the days
turning a blind eye
to all the things glaring at me

Next time it won't be the same
you will once again change
till the next time you hit again
and i fall for the same scheme

It's not about who is right
It's
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xd14wNS3sUkPhrctbIwABj0xVYc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xd14wNS3sUkPhrctbIwABj0xVYc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xd14wNS3sUkPhrctbIwABj0xVYc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xd14wNS3sUkPhrctbIwABj0xVYc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/kh-MlzeJWrw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/04/who-loses-more.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEQCQH09fCp7ImA9WhZQEEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-7946921795773634601</id><published>2011-04-17T18:49:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-04-17T18:49:21.364+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-17T18:49:21.364+05:30</app:edited><title>Shifting sands</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/7946921795773634601/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/04/shifting-sands.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/7946921795773634601?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/7946921795773634601?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/ePs2b5VHaeM/shifting-sands.html" title="Shifting sands" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">We will both forget the breeze,most of the time...
and i am happy for you
and sad for me
i could not be to you
what you were to me...

So you laugh about your life
And sip into its beauty
And you have your fears
Some questions, somewhere...

And i laugh about my life
its madness, unpredictability
And its uncertain turns
A place of no returns...

The breeze is there
i feel it
sometimes
And at 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HjanqcD5cx7m5QiAug06l-bsKoA/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HjanqcD5cx7m5QiAug06l-bsKoA/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HjanqcD5cx7m5QiAug06l-bsKoA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HjanqcD5cx7m5QiAug06l-bsKoA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/ePs2b5VHaeM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/04/shifting-sands.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkYFQnw9fyp7ImA9WhZSEEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-4078224178850101985</id><published>2011-03-25T14:38:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-03-25T14:38:33.267+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-25T14:38:33.267+05:30</app:edited><title>Snippets</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/4078224178850101985/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/03/snippets.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/4078224178850101985?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/4078224178850101985?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/Hyt5H1vuGbY/snippets.html" title="Snippets" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">And then he smiled.
Like the sun shining after a long week of cloudy, morose days.
And she smiled too.
The spirit rising from the deepest trench and invigorating every bit of her body &amp;amp; soul.
And they could sleep peacefully
dreaming of a tomorrow better than the today that was gone forever.
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yDEw7fChtPmMKZjwLHyNGnz0LyI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yDEw7fChtPmMKZjwLHyNGnz0LyI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yDEw7fChtPmMKZjwLHyNGnz0LyI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/yDEw7fChtPmMKZjwLHyNGnz0LyI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/Hyt5H1vuGbY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/03/snippets.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0EDQXwyeSp7ImA9Wx9aF0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-2383643162413394471</id><published>2011-03-10T15:53:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-03-10T16:44:30.291+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-10T16:44:30.291+05:30</app:edited><title>Status messages</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/2383643162413394471/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/03/status-messages.html#comment-form" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/2383643162413394471?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/2383643162413394471?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/dzWgMXP6nU0/status-messages.html" title="Status messages" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><content type="html">And suddenly everything changed
those who did not believe in magic
never found it
Somewhere over the rainbow
Grace found Anthon Berg


While waiting for a new dawn
Abby and Anna thought
Is Mumbai water fattening?


Sometimes I think life is one big test
and I'm in the wrong classroom
And i stood alone, sordid,
in the act of defiance
amidst the cacophony of laughter behind me
I strayed along to 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ttgv3bkP-9zhCqCGRrxe2HLiGP0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ttgv3bkP-9zhCqCGRrxe2HLiGP0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ttgv3bkP-9zhCqCGRrxe2HLiGP0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ttgv3bkP-9zhCqCGRrxe2HLiGP0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/dzWgMXP6nU0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/03/status-messages.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUABRnczfyp7ImA9Wx9aF0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-1223375710516852025</id><published>2011-03-10T13:25:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-03-10T13:25:57.987+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-10T13:25:57.987+05:30</app:edited><title>A day, a life</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/1223375710516852025/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-life.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/1223375710516852025?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/1223375710516852025?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/-vXATQLkZcw/day-life.html" title="A day, a life" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">Another day
of dialogues
of knick knacks
and some brick bats

Another day
of walking together
of holding hands
and sleeping apart

Another day
of lively cheer
of passionate hopes
and deeper fears

Another day
of mundane dryness
of creative sparks
and insane plans

Another day
of me and you
of us and them
and a million words...
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/iHivM_aNeRFI8JKlVpul51XM_K8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/iHivM_aNeRFI8JKlVpul51XM_K8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/iHivM_aNeRFI8JKlVpul51XM_K8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/iHivM_aNeRFI8JKlVpul51XM_K8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/-vXATQLkZcw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-life.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkcDSXw4fip7ImA9Wx9bF0Q.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-4973248923618045780</id><published>2011-02-27T13:37:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-02-27T13:37:58.236+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-27T13:37:58.236+05:30</app:edited><title>No Ever After</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/4973248923618045780/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/02/no-ever-after.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/4973248923618045780?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/4973248923618045780?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/IgiHhiPHTGo/no-ever-after.html" title="No Ever After" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">Lifetime validity
ends
when the sim card breaks
the connection

or when the owner
does not take care
and the phone is damaged,
Lost or stolen

and with it you lose
the messages of the heart
the hours of open words
the pictures of years past



Indispensable.Unbreakable.Forever.Ever after.
Lies, deceptive wordsi was taughtin my idyllic world
And now i enjoytill the expiry datenot trying to give it
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-SlQU5nAs5ST8SE2F7fCwQ89KDM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-SlQU5nAs5ST8SE2F7fCwQ89KDM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-SlQU5nAs5ST8SE2F7fCwQ89KDM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-SlQU5nAs5ST8SE2F7fCwQ89KDM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/IgiHhiPHTGo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/02/no-ever-after.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C04MRXs_cSp7ImA9Wx9WEkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-9049275015452917562</id><published>2011-01-18T00:49:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-01-18T00:49:44.549+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-18T00:49:44.549+05:30</app:edited><title>Waiting for you...</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/9049275015452917562/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/01/waiting-for-you.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/9049275015452917562?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/9049275015452917562?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/HVYLLdfv_R8/waiting-for-you.html" title="Waiting for you..." /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">Dil behal toh jaayega, iss khayal se,
haal mil gaya tumhara apne haal se
Raat ye qaraar ki, beqaraar hai
Tumhara intezaar hai...

Honth pe liye huye dil ki baat hum
jaagte rahenge aur, kitni raat hum
Muqtasar si baat hai, tumse pyaar hai
Tumhara intezaar hai...

Hauntingly beautiful. One of my all time favourite composition, as reminded by my Alibag partner. That wait, that never-ending, 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/btIdUNtTESf7v6AK_cAwkL5SIJg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/btIdUNtTESf7v6AK_cAwkL5SIJg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/btIdUNtTESf7v6AK_cAwkL5SIJg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/btIdUNtTESf7v6AK_cAwkL5SIJg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/HVYLLdfv_R8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/01/waiting-for-you.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkcHRn44fSp7ImA9Wx9XGUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-1261780827954943862</id><published>2011-01-14T08:30:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-01-14T08:30:37.035+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-14T08:30:37.035+05:30</app:edited><title>Someday</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/1261780827954943862/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/01/someday.html#comment-form" title="6 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/1261780827954943862?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/1261780827954943862?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/e7GVfSPvCB8/someday.html" title="Someday" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>6</thr:total><content type="html">Someday, somewhere
you would wake up
and i would be gone
The same silly one
who filled you up
with laughter and cheer

Someday you will glance
to your left side
and search for my face
but find no trace...
While i would hide
not to be found by any chance

Someday you would seek
the warmth, the comfort
of my hands, in yours
While it will only be yours
in my sweatshirt:
the one i forgot to take back
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SUOYfW8GAjCKSG2GLVHV9c0m4g8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SUOYfW8GAjCKSG2GLVHV9c0m4g8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/e7GVfSPvCB8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2011/01/someday.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUFQ3s4eip7ImA9Wx9QF0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-6560559251721777355</id><published>2010-12-31T04:00:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-12-31T04:00:12.532+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-31T04:00:12.532+05:30</app:edited><title>Our Walk</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/6560559251721777355/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2010/12/our-walk.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/6560559251721777355?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/6560559251721777355?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/5GDvMMq4NLY/our-walk.html" title="Our Walk" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Through the push-pull
doors,
Near the garbage,
Taking the right
when all move ahead
We complete our circle
of loo times and lunch ends
before we move to our desk

Our walk of a year and a half

With cups in our hands
and a pouch of coffee
or tea bags
Through the winding corridors
and lanes,
prying eyes turned our way
we walk and start
the vending machine's march

Our walk of some days and hours


&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kSOL_l3yWwO6zpOymaX8JPP3NhM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kSOL_l3yWwO6zpOymaX8JPP3NhM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kSOL_l3yWwO6zpOymaX8JPP3NhM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kSOL_l3yWwO6zpOymaX8JPP3NhM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/5GDvMMq4NLY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2010/12/our-walk.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEAHQn87fCp7ImA9Wx9QF0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-7205520205166848158</id><published>2010-12-31T03:35:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-12-31T03:35:33.104+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-31T03:35:33.104+05:30</app:edited><title>All through the night</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/7205520205166848158/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2010/12/all-through-night.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/7205520205166848158?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/7205520205166848158?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/PGkx2534hng/all-through-night.html" title="All through the night" /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">Her smile enchanting
and wise
was no longer charming
or nice

All through the night
She called the name
All through the night
She lived in shame

Struggling to keep
up the face
She needed some cheap,
some fake
disguise to take

"Oh, I understand
I see your point plain"
Those words are so bland
they give her much pain

All through the night
the words came back
All through the night
she felt it 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/25uZlXr3TFxB4lu-ct4omRsBVhQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/25uZlXr3TFxB4lu-ct4omRsBVhQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/PGkx2534hng" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2010/12/all-through-night.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE8HQnozcCp7ImA9Wx9QFU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5652019389756531907.post-5272090052264239481</id><published>2010-12-28T14:30:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-12-28T14:30:33.488+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-28T14:30:33.488+05:30</app:edited><title>In another world. On another day.</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/feeds/5272090052264239481/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2010/12/in-another-world-on-another-day.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/5272090052264239481?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5652019389756531907/posts/default/5272090052264239481?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~3/M9YeTa1onDw/in-another-world-on-another-day.html" title="In another world. On another day." /><author><name>Samhita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11132811145123704017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8AeEg8G7oQ4/TbaqkdGbXNI/AAAAAAAAFw4/o351E5fKEDM/s220/IMG_5494_Sunburst_4.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">Someone I have known for years, probably for the longest period of my conscious life, told me this: "There are lives we wish we lived and we don't".

Like a move in the game of chess. You choose your move anticipating a certain response from your opponent. You also try to anticipate a number of subsequent moves by both of you and imagine a few scenarios. Sometimes you don't make a move, because 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/p1_ZjckMvV0FkY8iWlR-JfaUIu4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/p1_ZjckMvV0FkY8iWlR-JfaUIu4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/RrdR/~4/M9YeTa1onDw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://samhita-mishra.blogspot.com/2010/12/in-another-world-on-another-day.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

