<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/rss2full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><rss xmlns:atom="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" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Mon, 28 Nov 2011 00:02:15 +0000</lastBuildDate><category>Me</category><category>Kids</category><category>Tag</category><category>Facts</category><category>Tennis</category><category>Personal Preparations</category><category>sketches</category><category>tribute</category><category>surrender</category><category>Stars</category><category>creativity</category><category>agony</category><category>show off</category><category>craft</category><category>Nani</category><category>Autism</category><category>Love</category><category>Krishna ji</category><category>Care</category><category>Success</category><category>god</category><category>26/11/2008</category><category>Legend</category><category>ABC</category><category>Records</category><category>prayer</category><title>Waiting for the world to Stop</title><description>An online diary of Ashkd.. :-)
     ashkd.3.9[aT]Gmail</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>52</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/rss+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/blogspot/Yyid" /><feedburner:info uri="blogspot/yyid" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><feedburner:browserFriendly></feedburner:browserFriendly><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-7673575635655564602</guid><pubDate>Wed, 10 Mar 2010 09:44:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-07-02T11:21:21.502+05:30</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">surrender</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">agony</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Love</category><title>worse than total agony of being in love - 5</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/S5dqoSGLQwI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/Y8mAcjDOr_0/s1600-h/love_of_my_life.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 337px; height: 336px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/S5dqoSGLQwI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/Y8mAcjDOr_0/s400/love_of_my_life.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446939514612957954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;The story continues to Part-5 after &lt;a href="http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2010/03/worse-than-total-agony-of-being-in-love.html"&gt;Part4&lt;/a&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;a href="http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/11/worse-than-total-agony-of-being-in-love_21.html"&gt;Part3&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/11/worse-than-total-agony-of-being-in-love.html"&gt;Part2&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/07/worse-than-total-agony-of-being-in-love.html"&gt;Part1&lt;/a&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The &lt;i&gt;slumber&lt;/i&gt; was broken with the sudden realization of teary eyes and a hint of smile.. Tears were the confusions of what was bitter, remembering of the lovely unforgettable lost past of the pain &lt;i&gt;or&lt;/i&gt; the present setback… The smile had the show-off of the dimple.. The dimple which was once touched by his passionate care.. Likeness.. Love.. The smile was the reflection of joy that it had felt with the touch..&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;The touch.. The passionate touch.. The passionate first touch.. The first touch.. The first..&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I was seeing those thrashed lips in front of me right now.. &lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;With broken heart, tired limbs and swollen eyes, I tried to look back at Priya who was still puzzled.. May be she was shouting for long.. &lt;i&gt;I didn’t hear..&lt;/i&gt; May be there was something urgent.. &lt;i&gt;I didn’t notice..&lt;/i&gt; May be I had to say something..&lt;i&gt; I didn’t reply..&lt;/i&gt; May be she was clueless once again.. &lt;i&gt;I did get puzzled too..&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“What are you doing Di? I am here form last 10 mins now. Have been shouting and you are in your own world of deepening carelessness.. Are you sane or it’s once again that you losing your mind?”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;What is she saying? I was right that she was shouting for long.. May be I was also right.. means I can still think, but why she doesn’t notice that I can think.. I am sane enough.. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;Or why she doesn’t notice what i am thinking at present.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Oh! Is it?”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Where have you lost Di? Kopal is also back.. She had come to you to ask for food but you didn’t pay attention to her too.. Are you ok?”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“I could faintly recall now.. Where is she now?”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“She is changing.. But where were you engrossed?”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;‘Engroseed’&lt;/i&gt;.. Yes.. I was engrossed.. In the touch.. In the memory.. In the past.. With the One.. &lt;i&gt;And&lt;/i&gt; in the present.. For the thought of that he would be leaving soon.. leaving for unknown.. complete unknown.. from where he won’t ever return back..&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Two drops of tears.. and a lost dimple.. a pain of separation.. a lifelong.. beyond life.. killing of sensations.. reincarnation.. and two &lt;i&gt;more&lt;/i&gt; tears..&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Can’t you see the news!”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Ah.. Prasoon.. Oh My God!”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Di.. Di.. are you alright? Di.. Kopal.. Call the doctor.. right now..”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-7673575635655564602?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2010/03/worse-than-total-agony-of-being-in-love_10.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/S5dqoSGLQwI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/Y8mAcjDOr_0/s72-c/love_of_my_life.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>8</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-6423230890215287373</guid><pubDate>Wed, 10 Mar 2010 06:23:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2010-03-10T11:56:41.478+05:30</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">surrender</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">agony</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Love</category><title>worse than total agony of being in love - 4</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/S5c7l_0ZsOI/AAAAAAAAAUI/MvnhhdR5rbY/s1600-h/love-you.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 321px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/S5c7l_0ZsOI/AAAAAAAAAUI/MvnhhdR5rbY/s400/love-you.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446887798300324066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;The story continues to Part 4 after &lt;a href="http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/11/worse-than-total-agony-of-being-in-love_21.html"&gt;Part3&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/11/worse-than-total-agony-of-being-in-love.html"&gt;Part2&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/07/worse-than-total-agony-of-being-in-love.html"&gt;Part1&lt;/a&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Life was going fine.. I was growing.. growing to become choosy, cynical, sentimental and demanding for my own space.. The day was very weird when I first saw the signs of physical maturity.. I could never realized the pain that mummi always suffered till I had the same in my belly.. I felt like vomiting, crunching my own stomach and then when I told mummi, the lines on her forehead with an exclamation and question mark .. ”oh! really??”.. and sudden reaction of something that had happened.. it took me a week to get out of the pain.. It had frightened me .. worried my parents… and Priya, my younger sister, was clueless of the realization of it.. the first time feeling that I had shared with them.. being a girl.. next 2-3 days were a self-questioning on myself.. looking through the corners of eyes.. not getting hold of my own physical self.. and then a feeling of self-pity.. uselessness and what-next-look.. I felt I was being noticed by everyone every time.. “I have done nothing.. it happened.. not my fault.. please say this to me.. its not my fault..” was the innocent scream and all days ended with my painful face on the shoulder of mummi.. Mummi who was there when I really needed her..&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I wanted to tear my clothes.. come out of this unwarranted not demanded feeling of exhaustion.. It did end.. &lt;i&gt;but it didn’t end inside me..&lt;/i&gt; when mummi said that it would come again, I was disheartened.. didn’t want to bear it again.. I cried.. cried a lot.. but, had to accept the basic fact..&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;After a few days, there were other signs of development.. the development of shape of a woman.. may be I did want these signs.. kind of waited for it… I really felt ecstatic to get the woman beauty.. it was good and great enough to tell Priya.. “ look, I am now a grown-up.. you are still a kid.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;And that day for the first time I recalled Prasoon with &lt;i&gt;passion&lt;/i&gt;.. I could see him standing on his roof.. stretching his arms.. wishing to fly.. I recalled, imagined and wished him to be there right then.. I opened my arms too and let the breeze fill my body with the abundance of freshness.. let it touch what it had never touched.. It was never there.. the new body.. the body of the woman.. the flow of transformation.. the culmination of waiting.. the start of new beginning.. the new woman in the surroundings wanted to be seen.. the way she was seeing herself..inside.. deep down inside.. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;“yes! I am the new woman around!!.. I wanted to declare.. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I started feeling what Prasson would have felt.. the extension of myself.. stretching muscles.. new shapes.. the adventure.. new life.. new talks.. getting more on to me.. more of my life… my own space.. my own world.. living in my dreams.. I wanted to explore.. I wanted to explode.. fill my world with my things.. peculiarly chosen.. nicely put.. gently cared.. I felt the entire world looking at me and admiring the new me.. and when I opened my eyes.. It was all twinkling.. it looked like the entire world was celebrating.. for a moment, I felt like an angel.. the centre of celebration.. the only attractive attention of the day.. the only woman in the world.. &lt;i&gt;the only passionate woman..&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Pankhuri.. Pankhuri.. where are you lost… “ Priya said.. It brought me back from the fairyland to my home, my couch and the news on the TV.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-6423230890215287373?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2010/03/worse-than-total-agony-of-being-in-love.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/S5c7l_0ZsOI/AAAAAAAAAUI/MvnhhdR5rbY/s72-c/love-you.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-5324134783080572048</guid><pubDate>Thu, 26 Nov 2009 18:28:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-27T00:52:52.421+05:30</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">26/11/2008</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">god</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">prayer</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">tribute</category><title>Pray 26/11</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/Sw7VYgboFuI/AAAAAAAAAQU/9WVFdA__oMo/s1600/pray.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 360px; height: 360px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/Sw7VYgboFuI/AAAAAAAAAQU/9WVFdA__oMo/s400/pray.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408494819517929186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;I could have said words; sentences a few…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Am sure it’s not going to do anything new…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Pages might be added; books can be made…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;The &lt;i&gt;scenes&lt;/i&gt; of the &lt;i&gt;battle&lt;/i&gt; can never go fade…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;The losses, the pains, the feelings unknown…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;The anger, the tears, the sadness that has grown…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Nothing can be changed of the past now…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;But we &lt;i&gt;have&lt;/i&gt; to dig the reasons and &lt;i&gt;how&lt;/i&gt;…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;The braves, the soldiers, the people who have gone…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;The saved, the &lt;i&gt;strongest&lt;/i&gt;, their smiles, their moan…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;The eyes, the grin and the heart with no harm…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;They live their life, with &lt;i&gt;the spirit&lt;/i&gt;, with &lt;i&gt;the charm&lt;/i&gt;…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Let’s pray to God to make everyone &lt;i&gt;strong&lt;/i&gt;…&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Let’s &lt;i&gt;tribute&lt;/i&gt; to those &lt;i&gt;who will always live long&lt;/i&gt;…&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-5324134783080572048?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/11/pray-2611.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/Sw7VYgboFuI/AAAAAAAAAQU/9WVFdA__oMo/s72-c/pray.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>9</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-5209122268175403587</guid><pubDate>Fri, 20 Nov 2009 18:52:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-21T00:31:52.133+05:30</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">surrender</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">agony</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Love</category><title>worse than total agony of being in love - 3</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SwbnkyAsnTI/AAAAAAAAAQM/3yDYs2hcPqk/s1600/incomplete-love.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 330px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SwbnkyAsnTI/AAAAAAAAAQM/3yDYs2hcPqk/s400/incomplete-love.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406263021790862642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Story continues to Part 3 after &lt;a href="http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/07/worse-than-total-agony-of-being-in-love.html"&gt;Part1&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/11/worse-than-total-agony-of-being-in-love.html"&gt;Part2&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The doorbell rang… It was a pleasant morning and the morning breeze came up with the loveliest surprise… my half eye was closed and then I jumped with my both eyes wide open now… Prasoon was standing there.. with a plate in his hand.. a handkerchief covering the something which he had in the plate… An average height guy.. not a kid.. not a man… &lt;i&gt;but&lt;/i&gt; a gift to me… &lt;i&gt;the sweetest good morning gift&lt;/i&gt;…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;He was slightly shy… a bit happy and more in hurry to leave the plate… did he feel my excitement! Did he know how surprising this gift was for me! Did he know I could die to live in that moment of getting his breath closest to my hair! Did he really get to understand my infinite living moments in those a few seconds… &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;Does he still know it all?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;He was here… yes; he was in front of my vision… I was his vision… and in those seconds I let out all my jealously to pour in all others with the jealousy of my &lt;i&gt;possession&lt;/i&gt; of the momentary &lt;i&gt;gift&lt;/i&gt;… &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;He smiled a bit and gave a signal to call some elder person in the home. I didn’t move…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;He said, “Hello.. How are you?”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;“I am fine…”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Can you call your papa or someone…”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Ok… wait a while… errr… what should I say to them… who is at the door? Leave it… mummmmaaaaaaa… see, someone is here…” I did want to start a conversation, &lt;i&gt;but&lt;/i&gt; I couldn’t… Being a &lt;i&gt;kid&lt;/i&gt; again… I wished I was smarter… I wished I could show &lt;i&gt;my&lt;/i&gt; &lt;i&gt;purpose.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I don’t know whether there was some secret jinn or something who stopped me or just that I wanted to stay there… From his side, there was no glue… there was no charm... there was no holding... there was no possession... there was no connection as of now... the space between two of us was filled with air which was not carrying any word now… still the last words he had said were giving the presence of a musical composition… may be I just wanted to listen him for long now… &lt;i&gt;May be I would soon&lt;/i&gt;… &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The wish was completed… &lt;i&gt;but,&lt;/i&gt; I was so lost that I couldn’t thank God for it… &lt;i&gt;I wish I should have&lt;/i&gt;, the first day itself… &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Mummi came, at the same instant asked me to leave… I couldn’t know whether I was stuck at this hands or to the plate... I kept gazing as I was going from there... Mummi also returned in two mins; without saying anything she transferred the sweets and put new ones in the same plate and went back to him… &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now I know it’s a ritual to not to let the person go empty handed… &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;I never want him to go empty handed from me… I never want him to go from me…&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I asked Mummi, “why was he here? Just to give sweets; what happened?”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;“His brother has got admission in the best college of India… He was very happy.. It was all to share the biggest joy to the bigger family… To all of us… We feel blessed.. “&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I picked a sweet and went away... I saw him again..&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;Those innocent eyes… That smile… The purpose and him… The Inseparables…&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I opened my books and started doing my homework… after 10 mins, I got stuck again: “what did mummi say? Best college!!! What is the best college? Why is he going there? Is he going to study something about; I don’t know what… May be papa would satisfy my answers… Do they study like me over there… Does Prasoon study like me? Does he study? Does he also add-subtract-multiply-mug up like us?” &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I was swaying swooping in imagination of his open books, pen in his mouth thinking over something, the box-the Tiffin, and the innocent eyes… the smile and the purpose… everything on the books.. Everything for the best of the books…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-5209122268175403587?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/11/worse-than-total-agony-of-being-in-love_21.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SwbnkyAsnTI/AAAAAAAAAQM/3yDYs2hcPqk/s72-c/incomplete-love.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>10</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-5420692103487062466</guid><pubDate>Wed, 18 Nov 2009 19:02:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-21T00:26:14.575+05:30</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">surrender</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">agony</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Love</category><title>worse than total agony of being in love - 2</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SwRGvKEF2-I/AAAAAAAAAP8/agBIc7HwbyQ/s1600/Loveyou.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SwRGvKEF2-I/AAAAAAAAAP8/agBIc7HwbyQ/s320/Loveyou.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405523228720749538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Story continues to Part 2 after &lt;a href="http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/07/worse-than-total-agony-of-being-in-love.html"&gt;Part1&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Prasoon was standing there… neither close to my presence, nor far from my vision… I felt the real pain when I was not even his vision… my heart felt jealousy to all those who were in his attention… May be this was the day when I&lt;i&gt; first&lt;/i&gt; wanted my presence to obstruct his attention to anyone else. I wanted me to be in his complete territory… to surround him with my arms… to involve him with my words… to let me know what’s there in him that makes me &lt;i&gt;melt&lt;/i&gt;… that makes me feel &lt;i&gt;awe&lt;/i&gt;… that makes me feel lost of my own belongingness of &lt;i&gt;self&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;He was ending his teenage life and I was about to begin this journey soon... I was so excited to explore myself; was excited more to know what he has explored in these years of identity crisis. Standing at his rooftop he looked like a flow of maturity. His acceptance on his own self was in the stretching of his arms. He carried himself so beautifully as if he knew the movement of even the toenail of his body. His hands were like giant wings, lifting his weight, ready to pump him up to the glories of successes. He wanted to fly, he wanted to swing in his passions, he wanted to explore the unattained heights and then touch the beauty of the ground… His eyes had twinkling, saying about the dreams which were bigger than his shoulders, deeper than his courage and more adventurous than his own dreams. There was a sense of controlled flight. I wanted to be a part of that.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I first time noticed him, staring at me with those innocent eyes, giving a look of ‘hi…’ I just smiled. I tried to become more girlish… I tried to hide that as well. I was too young to mix the two controversial emotions and giggled at my full flow. He was still staring and smiling. Though I could have said him as my brother that time but it was just destined for the best of both of us that this brotherly feeling never found any place in my heart. Destiny had something else in her mind; though I didn’t know the word ‘destiny’ as well then…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I watched him daily; going somewhere; passing through our lane. He never wandered aimlessly like most of the other teenagers did. He always seemed with a purpose; of doing something. It never bothered me… When I was coming from the school in the afternoon or when I was playing my kid games, I saw him. He always seemed me a person with whom I would be in future; with whom I would be enjoying the coming days. I would talk to him for my kiddish things, girlish games and he would listen me endlessly keeping those two innocent eyes every time on me with the eternal smile.. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;But&lt;/i&gt; I never remembered him after he was not there. &lt;i&gt;I still was a kid&lt;/i&gt;…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-5420692103487062466?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/11/worse-than-total-agony-of-being-in-love.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SwRGvKEF2-I/AAAAAAAAAP8/agBIc7HwbyQ/s72-c/Loveyou.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-9052014780655858831</guid><pubDate>Sat, 29 Aug 2009 15:14:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-29T22:09:45.261+05:30</atom:updated><title>If... and only If !!!</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SplHwBIWrsI/AAAAAAAAANs/TUPLrW_W1UA/s1600-h/if.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 260px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SplHwBIWrsI/AAAAAAAAANs/TUPLrW_W1UA/s320/if.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375406520506166978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I read this poem as part of my school curriculum. It’s been 13 years now and I remember the page where it was written in the book. The course was over, the poem was well read. The meaning as taught by teachers was well understood but the application was never taught. &lt;i&gt;Some verses are not to be taught, they are there to just to be shown to you.&lt;/i&gt; May be that had clicked me sometime in early 2000s when I recalled this poem after someone stated the name of the poem in one of the institute lectures. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;IF you can keep your head when all about you &lt;br /&gt;  Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, &lt;br /&gt;  If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, &lt;br /&gt;  But make allowance for their doubting too; &lt;br /&gt;  If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, &lt;br /&gt;  Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, &lt;br /&gt;  Or being hated, don't give way to hating, &lt;br /&gt;  And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; &lt;br /&gt;  If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim; &lt;br /&gt;  If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster &lt;br /&gt;  And treat those two impostors just the same; &lt;br /&gt;  If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken &lt;br /&gt;  Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, &lt;br /&gt;  Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, &lt;br /&gt;  And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;If you can make one heap of all your winnings &lt;br /&gt;  And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, &lt;br /&gt;  And lose, and start again at your beginnings &lt;br /&gt;  And never breathe a word about your loss; &lt;br /&gt;  If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew &lt;br /&gt;  To serve your turn long after they are gone, &lt;br /&gt;  And so hold on when there is nothing in you &lt;br /&gt;  Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, &lt;br /&gt;  ' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch, &lt;br /&gt;  if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, &lt;br /&gt;  If all men count with you, but none too much; &lt;br /&gt;  If you can fill the unforgiving minute &lt;br /&gt;  With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, &lt;br /&gt;  Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, &lt;br /&gt;  And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;-By, Rudyard Kipling&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.kipling.org.uk/poems_if.htm"&gt;http://www.kipling.org.uk/poems_if.htm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I want to write what I think about the poem; how &lt;i&gt;it has guided&lt;/i&gt; me over the years; how &lt;i&gt;it helps&lt;/i&gt; me to be saner every time the rule of &lt;i&gt;practical&lt;/i&gt; sanity wins over the &lt;i&gt;pure &lt;/i&gt;sanity; how &lt;i&gt;it grows&lt;/i&gt; to make me long for growing within myself, looking for the corrections here and there first for me myself, preparing for a more presentable and understandable outlook and still accept that the things are still not there; how &lt;i&gt;it gives courage&lt;/i&gt; to me to believe in forgiving, forgetting, foregoing, and forecasting the forthcoming uncertainties and still deal them as if I knew it all, I kept mum to dream it all in the reality; how &lt;i&gt;it makes&lt;/i&gt; me fight for perfection not allowing my mistakes, make allowance for mistakes of others, dealing both with the importance and still knowing the virtue would prevail even if all this would be gone someday; how &lt;i&gt;it shows&lt;/i&gt; me to keep gripping the feet on the ground, waiting for it to slip just to make me fall, making me look for more crippled form of land to show me that my feet are still not strong, my grip is still weak, I have a too long way to go before I can firm strong somewhere; how &lt;i&gt;it leaves&lt;/i&gt; me to be left in crowd unnoticed, then makes me show difference once the crowd becomes listeners; how &lt;i&gt;it empowers&lt;/i&gt; my hands to go stronger for a firm handshake and then makes me soft enough to caress the cheek of a small baby.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The poem is perfect in showing the different interpretations with the same set of words at different times of life or for different people in the same situation. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;It makes you live fully, it makes you to let others live fully.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I wanted to write it all but now I don’t think that I should write anything, let’s leave it to you to interpret, feel, learn and swim, sway, fly in the flow of it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;P.S.: I have posted the video of &lt;i&gt;my favorite player&lt;/i&gt; ‘Roger Federer’ reciting &lt;i&gt;my favorite poem&lt;/i&gt; ‘If’ with his experience &amp;amp; learning.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;&amp;lt;img source: &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a title="http://bahai-nas.blogspot.com" href="http://bahai-nas.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;http://bahai-nas.blogspot.com&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;&amp;gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-9052014780655858831?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/08/if-and-only-if.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SplHwBIWrsI/AAAAAAAAANs/TUPLrW_W1UA/s72-c/if.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>13</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-4593079544571357991</guid><pubDate>Mon, 17 Aug 2009 04:02:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-17T09:42:00.670+05:30</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">creativity</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">show off</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">sketches</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">craft</category><title>Some old attempts... less than one year old...</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SojXukbfRLI/AAAAAAAAAMU/ia6v7jy5J8s/s1600-h/IMG_0080.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SojXukbfRLI/AAAAAAAAAMU/ia6v7jy5J8s/s320/IMG_0080.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370779750692242610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SojXLloZuyI/AAAAAAAAAMM/n2coFYt_SxU/s1600-h/IMG_0078.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SojXLloZuyI/AAAAAAAAAMM/n2coFYt_SxU/s320/IMG_0078.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370779149719419682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It does make it redundant of having same sketches at two places, but i haven't made any new recently, also i thought that the blog is an appropriate medium &lt;i&gt;for&lt;/i&gt; creativity and orkut being more like a &lt;i&gt;display&lt;/i&gt; of creativity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~&lt;b&gt;Happy Day!!!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-4593079544571357991?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/08/some-old-attempts-less-than-one-year.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SojXukbfRLI/AAAAAAAAAMU/ia6v7jy5J8s/s72-c/IMG_0080.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-8167314807906486544</guid><pubDate>Fri, 14 Aug 2009 18:10:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-15T15:43:51.483+05:30</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Krishna ji</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Nani</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Love</category><title>Wo kisna hai...</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SoaKQeU3QGI/AAAAAAAAAME/jmmbP_zA2-A/s1600-h/Krishnaji.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 387px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SoaKQeU3QGI/AAAAAAAAAME/jmmbP_zA2-A/s400/Krishnaji.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370131621309005922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It was 7 years back when I got the last chance to decorate the &lt;i&gt;Mandir&lt;/i&gt; at our &lt;i&gt;Nani&lt;/i&gt;’s home for the special occasion of &lt;i&gt;Janmashtmi&lt;/i&gt;. Since then things have changed drastically; we moved &lt;i&gt;out&lt;/i&gt;, things moved &lt;i&gt;on&lt;/i&gt; and now when I am not even 3 km away from the same divine place, I cannot go there for our &lt;i&gt;the biggest festival&lt;/i&gt;. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I know we, read &lt;i&gt;Mummi&lt;/i&gt;, brothers, all share the same feeling of missing the place very much and when I am decorating the &lt;i&gt;pooja ghar&lt;/i&gt; at our home I miss our &lt;i&gt;Nani&lt;/i&gt; so much. I believe that there was some energy in her that had bound things so beautifully that even &lt;i&gt;Shri Krishnaji&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Laddu Gopal&lt;/i&gt;, looked so cute, innocent and perfect child in front of her grace, charisma, simplicity and strength. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The way &lt;i&gt;Shri Krishnaji&lt;/i&gt; was taken care of as a small child and the way the festival was celebrated at &lt;i&gt;Nani&lt;/i&gt;’s home, I always found &lt;i&gt;Shri Krishnaji&lt;/i&gt; very close to me. I remember believing and loving &lt;i&gt;Shri Krishnaji&lt;/i&gt; and &lt;i&gt;Shri Hanumanji&lt;/i&gt; since the time I have got consciousness. I always have respected &lt;i&gt;Mata Saraswati ji&lt;/i&gt; the most. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;We used to get papers of different colors, decorative ribbons, golden paper specially to make The Sun at the background of the &lt;i&gt;mandir&lt;/i&gt;, some artificial flowers, and many other things. The glue was used to be green and we were warned to not to taste it even by chance, as it was said to be poisonous. &lt;i&gt;Nana&lt;/i&gt; was used to get extra milk to make all the &lt;i&gt;pooja&lt;/i&gt; deserts, special flowers, bouquets for decoration. &lt;i&gt;Mummi, Nani, Mausis&lt;/i&gt; used to arrange clothes for all &lt;i&gt;Bhagwanjis&lt;/i&gt;, and shape them with appropriate sizes; make sure that every ornament is clean and all &lt;i&gt;Bhagwanjis&lt;/i&gt; are getting royal treatment for the big day; and every dish is perfect to taste as we were never satisfied with only one turn of any of those dishes after the full day fast. Cleaning, decorating &lt;i&gt;Bhagwanjis&lt;/i&gt; and full arrangement of all dishes for &lt;i&gt;pooja&lt;/i&gt; was used to cover the full evening and the night as well.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;But very long before all this, we used to decorate the &lt;i&gt;mandir&lt;/i&gt;. First, the old decoration of the &lt;i&gt;mandir&lt;/i&gt; was used to torn off brutally by all of us. Then the &lt;i&gt;mandir&lt;/i&gt; was cleaned thoroughly. There used to be pile of &lt;i&gt;kachra&lt;/i&gt; then. Then the process to make paper flowers was used to start. I got to see &lt;i&gt;bhaiya&lt;/i&gt; doing craft of making paper flowers with &lt;i&gt;mausis&lt;/i&gt; and &lt;i&gt;mummi&lt;/i&gt; when I was very small. &lt;i&gt;Bhaiya&lt;/i&gt; was/is always very good in crafts, arts and that had always motivated, inspired and guided me to get me involved with all this. There were used to be 5-6 layers of different colors. Their sizes were used to decrease from the bottom most paper to the top most paper. The bottom one was always the green one, showing the leaf at the base. Then the colors changed to like red, yellow and the last one was golden one giving it the final touch. We used to make a &lt;i&gt;daliya&lt;/i&gt; full of these paper flowers. Then, the full &lt;i&gt;mandir&lt;/i&gt; was decorated with the colorful paper. The paper flowers were pasted at different places over the colorful paper. At the background center of the &lt;i&gt;madir&lt;/i&gt;, The Sun was used to be designed with utmost care. When I was very small, this task was done by &lt;i&gt;mausi&lt;/i&gt;, and then &lt;i&gt;bhaiya&lt;/i&gt; was used to do it. I also got opportunity to make it in later years. Once everything is placed, the decoration of the outside of the &lt;i&gt;mandir&lt;/i&gt; was used to start. Different ribbons, artificial flowers, everything had got some place or other to add to the entire beauty of the divine place.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;When I was very small, &lt;i&gt;Nani&lt;/i&gt; was used to make a display of the complete life of &lt;i&gt;Shri Krishnaji&lt;/i&gt; with all the toys she had. It was used to be a big one. Those times, we were used to sleep before the &lt;i&gt;pooja&lt;/i&gt; used to happen or might used to be sleepy at 12 midnight; we used to see the display in the morning. That was used to be THE first thing that we were used to see. We were always amazed to see those beautiful tiny sculptures depicting the full life. The little &lt;i&gt;jhoola&lt;/i&gt; of &lt;i&gt;Shri Krishnaji&lt;/i&gt; was the most interesting thing for me. I was used to imagine the life of &lt;i&gt;Shri Krishnaji&lt;/i&gt; at &lt;i&gt;Gokul&lt;/i&gt; and I was quite fascinated of it. In later years when &lt;i&gt;Nani&lt;/i&gt; was not well, we used to miss this display very much. I still miss it with the core of my heart.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;When everything was done for the &lt;i&gt;mandir&lt;/i&gt;, all &lt;i&gt;Bhagwanijis&lt;/i&gt; were carefully placed at their right places. From this time onwards, the contribution of we kids was used to be very low. Those days there were not many things on TV and 12 midnight still looked so late. Till 12&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; standard, we used to sleep by 10:30pm maximum, so 12 midnight was herculean task for all of us. Even if we tried very hard, we were almost on bed by 11pm. Then we were asked to get up just before 12. It was a big burden for us and by the time we reached the &lt;i&gt;Madir&lt;/i&gt;, the &lt;i&gt;pooja&lt;/i&gt; was used to start. &lt;i&gt;Shankh, Ghante&lt;/i&gt; everything was announcing the arrival of the divine &lt;i&gt;Shri Krishnaji&lt;/i&gt;. The complete &lt;i&gt;pooja&lt;/i&gt; was used to take half an hour and that half an hour were the best moments of our life. We used to forget everything in those great sounds. Then we had &lt;i&gt;prasad&lt;/i&gt; of &lt;i&gt;pooja&lt;/i&gt; and the dinner after that. We all loved &lt;i&gt;panjiri&lt;/i&gt; as we could fume it on others by just saying &lt;i&gt;phoophaa&lt;/i&gt;. The next day always seemed so refreshing after this biggest festival. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;In sometime we are again going to celebrate the same function at our home, but without those people, without that &lt;i&gt;mandir&lt;/i&gt;, without those decorating sessions, without the completeness of everything of that time, I feel I have missed so much by living 10 more years of my life.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;Happy &lt;i&gt;Janmashtmi&lt;/i&gt; to all!!!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;I miss our Nani so much!!!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;P.S. I wanted to write what I feel about &lt;i&gt;Shri Krishnaji&lt;/i&gt; but that chapter would have been incomplete, had I not described the origin of everything that I feel about &lt;i&gt;Shri Krishnaji&lt;/i&gt; today. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-8167314807906486544?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/08/jai-shri-krishna.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SoaKQeU3QGI/AAAAAAAAAME/jmmbP_zA2-A/s72-c/Krishnaji.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>6</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-8630644703316223732</guid><pubDate>Tue, 11 Aug 2009 09:38:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-07-02T11:22:33.867+05:30</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">ABC</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Me</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Facts</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Tag</category><title>'A' for Apple...</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SoE8gPA08AI/AAAAAAAAAL0/hDcPB2hepIs/s1600-h/abc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SoE8gPA08AI/AAAAAAAAAL0/hDcPB2hepIs/s400/abc.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368638755285823490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I guess this tag has already been done by most of the bloggers. I also got this opportunity, thanks to &lt;a href="http://preposterousgirl.blogspot.com/"&gt;PG&lt;/a&gt;. :-)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;u&gt;The Rules:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;1. Link the person who tagged you. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
2. Post the rules on your blog. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
3. Share the ABCs of you. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
4. Tag 3 people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
5. Let the 3 tagged people know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
their website. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
6. Do not tag the same person repeatedly but try to tag different people, so that there &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
is a big network of bloggers doing this tag. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;u&gt;Here I am in ABC:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;1. A – Available/Single?&lt;/u&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It is the most difficult one to answer. If I say I am Available, then I am saying I am not-single, resulting committed and available, means not loyal. So I am loyal AND THAT’S WHY I am single. J&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;2. B – Best friend?&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Covering all those who had been at different times may be not in touch at present plus who are current as well. There is no order of any sort. You feel free to define it in your own way. :-)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Start counting: Mom (The Creator), Brothers (The Support), Rakhi Bhabhi(THE BESTEST), Sudeep (The First one), Naval (The Long Lost), Punit (The Fought, Lost and Found), Mahendra (The Storyteller), Pushpendra (The Righteously Honest), Aseem (The Happy Happy), Chau (The Lover Dancer), Shaunak (The Shy Topper), Saswat (The Just Alike), Abhinav (The Singer), Sadana (The Presence), Prashant (The Companion), Nisheeth (The Gamer), Nidhi (The Grace), Poonam (The Sensible), Akshat (The Helping), Laksh (The Secret), Arnav (The Musician), Anuj (The Perfectionist), Astha (The Giggles, Simplicity and Dimples), Prayank (The Brother), Priyanka (The Energy), Pande (The Mirror-Reflection), Deshpande (The Aura), Som (The Thinker), Animesh (The Style), Abhinav (The Charisma), PG(The Telepathy) &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;3. C – Cake or Pie? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/u&gt;Cake. Please call me for B’day parties. :-)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;4. D – Drink of choice? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/u&gt;Water and Lassi&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;5. E – Essential item you use every day? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/u&gt;&lt;i&gt;I don’t want to copy PG. But I can’t help it. &lt;/i&gt;J Tooth brush, clothes, soap, computer :P&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;6. F – Favorite color?&lt;/u&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Blue: for clothes of mine&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Pink: to Look when girls wear it; For Roses&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Yellow: For flowers: Yellow Rose, Sunflower; Vasant Panchami&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;7. G – Gummy Bears Or Worms? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/u&gt;I love to see people eating worms. :-)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;8. H – Hometown? &lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Kanpur&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;9. I – Indulgence?&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Talking, Creativity, Thinking, Explorations, Discussions, Adventure&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;10. J – January or February? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/u&gt;&lt;i&gt;I second PG here as well. &lt;/i&gt;January. New Year gives you opportunities to at least think good ;)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;11. K – Kids &amp;amp; their names? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/u&gt;Pallav; Hardik; Tehjeeb; Pankhuri; Kopal&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;12. L – Life is incomplete without?&lt;/u&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Live and Let Live&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;13. M – Marriage date? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/u&gt;28&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; December Year: I don’t know. :-)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;14. N – Number of siblings?&lt;/u&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Three.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;15. O – Oranges or Apples? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/u&gt;An Apple a Day keeps the doctor away. I have some allergy to oranges.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;16. P – Phobias/Fears? &lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Phobia: can’t say any. Fear: Fear of not finding gravity to hold me back on earth. Weird! :-(&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;17. Q – Quote for today? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/u&gt;Smile coz you never know who would fall in love with your smile. :-)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;18. R – Reason to smile? &lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If I know you I would smile even with a glimpse of yours. :-)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;19. S – Season? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/u&gt;I love winters but Heavy Rains give me big smile automatically. :-)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;20. T – Tag 3 People?&lt;/u&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://alltalkandnoaction.blogspot.com/"&gt;Mukta&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://amarendrassingh.blogspot.com/"&gt;Bittu&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://eccentricrashmi.blogspot.com/"&gt;Rashmi&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;21. U – Unknown fact about me? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/u&gt;I have 34 teeth; I can stretch my legs fully; I can bend to put my full palm at the ground 2 feet away from my feet; Right shoe size is 9, Left shoe size is 8; I had a birth mark of sort of Red-tilak on my forehead&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;22. V – Vegetable you don't like? &lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Pumpkin, Karela&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;23. W – Worst habit? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/u&gt;Being Too Flexible :-)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;24. X – X-rays you've had?&lt;/u&gt; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ankle&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;25. Y – Your favorite food? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/u&gt;Bhindi; Chane ki daal; Paav Bhaji; Rasgulla; Peda; Milk Cake&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;26. Z – Zodiac sign? &lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The methodical, perfectionist, cynical, criticizing Virgo :-)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Let’s have 1-100 Tag someday. :-)&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-8630644703316223732?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/08/for-apple.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SoE8gPA08AI/AAAAAAAAAL0/hDcPB2hepIs/s72-c/abc.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>6</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-5697324416672240496</guid><pubDate>Tue, 28 Jul 2009 07:32:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-28T13:10:56.935+05:30</atom:updated><title>Worse than the total agony of being in love?</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/Sm6qiPrHHqI/AAAAAAAAALs/OgXzPjT8L64/s1600-h/elephant-love-heart.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 275px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/Sm6qiPrHHqI/AAAAAAAAALs/OgXzPjT8L64/s400/elephant-love-heart.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363411711544467106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The remote doesn’t stop at one channel. She has been trying to divert her mind, but whatever had happened in the morning was troubling her. Though getting hit by her husband was a ritual of the day, tradition of the night; still, the blood oozing out from the deep cut on her right cheek hurts, at least physically. Her heart was not trembling; it was not scared. These are those emotions which she had made subdued a long unknown. May be she didn’t care anymore. But, only for her, she is good; a good mother she is; at least in those cute little eyes. She is or she is not; she doesn’t care about that also. There is only one person in the world, whom she loves, deep down her heart. That’s what people think , or may be most of the times she also makes her feel the same. Umm, no, &lt;i&gt;but there are two&lt;/i&gt;. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;And, with this thought she realized that her heart still pumps blood. She still has sensations. She doesn’t have idle limbs, she doesn’t have the lethargic brain, she doesn’t just have tattering legs, and she does have feelings. She feels for those lost emotions that transformed her. She recalls those untouched touches which made her a lady.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The tickling of high heart beats gave her life and she again accepted that she still loves someone. He is someone, whom she doesn’t care like a kid, but like a partner; with whom she could herself like to be a little doll who enjoys pampering; who loved her for what she was, not for what her beauty prevails; who accepted her in the way she wanted her to be accepted. She felt the passion again which is far beyond the daily care of her husband’s tantrums; her affection for ‘&lt;i&gt;ankoo&lt;/i&gt;’ her daughter; her sobbing of daily monotonous constant grief; the compassion for the uselessness of her own existence; her own senselessness of lost sensibility. It was a sense of fullness, and acceptance of surrender, a unique way of losing the possession of her ‘self’.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;Pankhuri&lt;/i&gt; was no longer a teenager, nor even a young look-a-like woman. Her heart is still very young with adventure, love and passion. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It was then, she got stuck. It wasn’t her imagination, it was surreal. The picture was seen on every channel, of an accident. The victim was a big businessman, a renowned celebrity, &lt;i&gt;Prasoon&lt;/i&gt;. And again, she felt all those sensations. She felt to cry of fear; for the fear of losing someone whom she had already lost but had the hope to see some time in the future; as they lived in the same planet. They were, &lt;i&gt;Prasoon-Pankhuri&lt;/i&gt; or &lt;i&gt;Pankhuri-Prasoon&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-5697324416672240496?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/07/worse-than-total-agony-of-being-in-love.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/Sm6qiPrHHqI/AAAAAAAAALs/OgXzPjT8L64/s72-c/elephant-love-heart.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>12</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-82533293638141757</guid><pubDate>Thu, 16 Jul 2009 10:38:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-16T16:21:28.805+05:30</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Care</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Autism</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Love</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Kids</category><title>Aapki Abhaya/Antara/...</title><description>&lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/Sl8EPIKyi7I/AAAAAAAAALM/2vNl2PDqXnI/s1600-h/Antra+_Sachin+Letter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 283px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/Sl8EPIKyi7I/AAAAAAAAALM/2vNl2PDqXnI/s400/Antra+_Sachin+Letter.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359006739531467698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;One of my &lt;i&gt;Tauji,Taiji&lt;/i&gt; live in Calcutta. &lt;i&gt;Tauji&lt;/i&gt; is an IIT kgp graduate in its inception years, experience of being CEO, and a lovely heart to accept people as they are. It is always great to see him talking and caring for each and every individual with logical bend. &lt;i&gt;Taiji&lt;/i&gt; had been the master of home and that is quite visible in her authoritative actions. Their support and love have guided my cousins in grooming their personality. The cousin brother, &lt;i&gt;Piyush&lt;/i&gt; is an engineer, settled in UK with wife and kids.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;My cousin sister, &lt;em&gt;Astha&lt;/em&gt;, an anesthesiologist, and Jijaji, &lt;i&gt;Anurag&lt;/i&gt;, an eye surgeon, are a lovely couple together; Jijaji being jovial and talkative person while didi being all caring, serious, the craziest reader of books I have ever seen. Though Jijaji devotes most of his time in serving poor people and government wards, there are certain operations which only he does in entire Calcutta. Didi has got enough patience to see all those crumpled people in ICU just after their accidents. She has got the main responsibility to handle the most serious cases. In and all, both of them are doing not only good works but rather great works, kind of real heroes they are.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Their elder daughter &lt;i&gt;Aditi&lt;/i&gt; is also an exceptional reader. You give her a book and she would forget everything in the world. At the age of 9, she had finished most of the books of her school library. She could finish thick books like Harry Potter in some 6-7 hours. &lt;i&gt;So, I am talking about a brilliant family.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;My &lt;i&gt;Tauji&lt;/i&gt; being cousin of Papa, born and brought up in Calcutta only, we couldn’t get to know many things about their living till I reached Calcutta in 2005 for my Masters in Management.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;As soon as we reached there, the most surprising thing came in a small packet of a kid who is a very pretty girl, &lt;i&gt;Abhaya&lt;/i&gt;. Her eyes were so beautiful that you could just admire the creation of God in her. You keep looking in her eyes and try to talk to her and there you go. There is no response. You start believing that she might be feeling shy of new people at home and then there comes a shock. My &lt;i&gt;Tauji&lt;/i&gt; said that she is ‘Autistic’. ‘Autistic’ was a complete alien term for me. I couldn’t understand what it meant. Then &lt;i&gt;Tauji&lt;/i&gt; gave me something to read. It was a collection of articles he got packed from his daily net surfing, covering the basics of Autism.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then he tried to explain me about Autism in detail. I kept looking at &lt;i&gt;Abhaya&lt;/i&gt; and kept listening to what &lt;i&gt;Tauji&lt;/i&gt; was saying. At one point, I wished to play with her and let her talk like a normal kid. With those twinkling little eyes, with those lovely cheeks and from a god like sweet face I could only listen a few words. She was trained to speak sentences like: &lt;i&gt;‘Paani de do’; ‘Naam Abhaya’.&lt;/i&gt; She was getting the training of the most basic things that we do in daily life. She didn’t know how to take care of her clothes, when to ask for water, how to talk to people, basic motor activities, how to reply when her name is called. The most fundamental problems that they told were: &lt;i&gt;what would happen to her when no one would be around; how would she be able to protect herself given the god’s blessings combination of beauty and her Autism; how would we trace her if she is lost somewhere.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;She was 5-6 then, she was going to school as well but this was surely for these special kids. She was able to write a few letters, she was able to play for certain minutes with you when she didn’t feel shy unusually, she could smile a bit, she could show love by giving a sweet kiss if she does feel like, and she shows that she is unhappy with something, like when you are leaving or when she was made to socialize. And this is all due to the training that she was getting at the special school, the proper care given at home by each and every family members including her still kid sister &lt;i&gt;Aditi&lt;/i&gt;, and to the open attitude by the family to accept this thing with such a bravery. Think about the parents who could see their child in the so lost conditions every time that the parents had to let her feel their presence with activities. And they do it; they do it brilliantly with energy, with compassion, with all the love that they could have given to their sweetest.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;Tauji&lt;/i&gt; says that she is special and all such kids are really special. They have the brain which is very honest to understand the ‘tricks’ that we have imbibed in our &lt;i&gt;so called real-world&lt;/i&gt;. She doesn’t know about the big countries, she is happy with the corner of the room that she chooses to play her own solitary crafted games; she doesn’t care about impressing people, she gives her impression which you can never forget; she doesn’t think about the issues and complexities of the things around us, she has got enough complexities inside herself to be solved by us external world.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;Tauji&lt;/i&gt; has devoted his entire time to take care of &lt;i&gt;Abhaya&lt;/i&gt;, whose name has changed to &lt;i&gt;Roshni&lt;/i&gt; as to bring some fortune to her life, as suggested by some &lt;i&gt;panditji.&lt;/i&gt; Now, you can really understand what all measures do these parents are taking to get their child be track on normal self. &lt;i&gt;Tauji&lt;/i&gt; has been participating in online communities to generate awareness all over, discussions to let people think normally for such cases and also the family has been involving themselves in activities within Calcutta to meet more such people and spread love all around these children.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;Some quick facts about Autistic children:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;· They are not mad, crazy or lunatic. This is some kind of genetic mutation which has got a difference in them. Though, most of us are not aware of it, every 3&lt;sup&gt;rd&lt;/sup&gt; child out of 500 children is suffering from this mutation.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;· These kids are mostly socially not active. They don’t talk, don’t greet, don’t make eye contacts and even don’t reply to their own names.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;· They have certain behavior which is kind of repetitive. They might be repeating some words, might be meticulously putting their toys, and might get violent in rarest cases.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;· With the special training they can be improved to handle their lives beautifully, but surely an autistic remains autistic forever. So, they need proper care, a little bit more patient attitude and all the love that you can pour forever.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is really amazing to watch &lt;i&gt;‘Aapki Anatra’&lt;/i&gt; on ZeeTV 8:30 PM weekdays. This serial is made to generate the awareness for ‘Autism’ only. &lt;i&gt;Antara&lt;/i&gt;, a 5 year girl, is suffering from Autism, but she has some special powers of counting which really impresses people. This serial is simply a marvelous piece of creative craft. All that I had experienced while playing, seeing &lt;i&gt;Abhaya&lt;/i&gt; 2 and half years back, everything is covered with perfect clarity in the serial. They didn’t hide any of the realities of Autism, making this one as &lt;i&gt;‘the real one’&lt;/i&gt; in every sense. If you haven’t watched it, my sincere advice is to keep following it. If you get a chance, you do watch the old episodes of it. This would surely ignite the light for these special kids. &lt;i&gt;Feel the serial; I am sure you would have something to say about it.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/Sl8FJeHLyFI/AAAAAAAAALU/5IcUcuF20oI/s1600-h/aapaki-antara3800x600-c8b6818eb5b6391.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/Sl8FJeHLyFI/AAAAAAAAALU/5IcUcuF20oI/s320/aapaki-antara3800x600-c8b6818eb5b6391.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359007741854337106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;They are sweet, they are helpless, they want care and they have to be loved.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Do visit these sites to know more about Autism:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Autism"&gt;http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Autism&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.autism.org"&gt;http://www.autism.org&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.autismindia.com"&gt;http://www.autismindia.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;u&gt;To help these children, you could also visit:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ashaforautism.com"&gt;http://www.ashaforautism.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;&lt;em&gt;[Image source: ZeeTV]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-82533293638141757?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/07/aapki-abhayaantara.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/Sl8EPIKyi7I/AAAAAAAAALM/2vNl2PDqXnI/s72-c/Antra+_Sachin+Letter.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>10</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-4997585840389370136</guid><pubDate>Mon, 06 Jul 2009 08:23:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-06T21:15:02.134+05:30</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Stars</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Records</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Legend</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Success</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Tennis</category><title>…tic tic tic… 15!!! the counter keeps moving for him…</title><description>&lt;p&gt;It was way back in 1987 June when i watched any match of Tennis in my memory. It was Wimbledon and Steffi Graf and Martina Navratilova were fighting in the finals for the title. One of them was already a legend, the other one was into making history. I could not understand much of tennis that time but from the next year onwards, we three brothers started watching semis and finals of Wimbledon and French Open. I am quite thankful to Doordarshan to bring such a high quality telecast in those days of minimum TV presence in India.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Mens' tennis stars those days were &lt;i&gt;Ivan Lendl &lt;/i&gt;(who couldn’t win Wimbledon anytime), &lt;i&gt;Stfean Edberg&lt;/i&gt;, and &lt;i&gt;Boris Becker&lt;/i&gt;. I personally liked the zeal of &lt;i&gt;Becker&lt;/i&gt;, Class of &lt;i&gt;Lendl&lt;/i&gt; but &lt;i&gt;Edberg&lt;/i&gt; impressed me the most with the least show-off and the best results. Those were the starting days of &lt;i&gt;Graf&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Sanchez-Vicario&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Seles&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Capriati&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Sabatini&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Agassi&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Jim Courier&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Michael Stitch&lt;/i&gt; mature days of &lt;i&gt;Becker&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Edberg&lt;/i&gt;, ending days of &lt;i&gt;Navratilova&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Chris Evert&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Borg&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;McEnore&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Connors&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Lendl&lt;/i&gt; and the greatest stars like &lt;i&gt;Sampras&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Ivanisevic&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Krajicek&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Hingis&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Novotna&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Conchita Martinez&lt;/i&gt; were not even in picutres.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlHumgWYnpI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/HTkU-j4YCTQ/s1600-h/lendl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlHumgWYnpI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/HTkU-j4YCTQ/s200/lendl.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355323777206492818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlHuS7woChI/AAAAAAAAAJs/zC1vogHxX5c/s1600-h/Becker.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 135px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlHuS7woChI/AAAAAAAAAJs/zC1vogHxX5c/s200/Becker.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355323440966928914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlHu7kTyeLI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/0tioaUuSREA/s1600-h/edberg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlHu7kTyeLI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/0tioaUuSREA/s200/edberg.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355324139046598834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; Lendl&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; Beckar&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; Edberg&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The game started drifting to unknown players in the start of 90s by &lt;i&gt;Courier&lt;/i&gt; winning one grand slam with a big show and then drifting to the glories of not making anywhere in later days. He is always remembered for his great show that time but he couldn't maintain it. &lt;i&gt;Ivanisevic&lt;/i&gt; was busy in pumping the flood of aces to the opponents and &lt;i&gt;Sampras&lt;/i&gt; still managing to defeat him in straight sets in the finals. &lt;i&gt;Agassi&lt;/i&gt; defeated him in his first Wimbledon finals in 1992, &lt;i&gt;Samprass&lt;/i&gt; in straight sets in 1994, four setters in 1998 but he finally managed to make it to the record books in 2001. &lt;i&gt;Philippousis&lt;/i&gt; was known for his height, strength and fastest serves with very high first serve percentage, but he was not like the legends to keep the returns right. &lt;i&gt;Patric Rafter&lt;/i&gt; was a man of excellent serve but &lt;i&gt;Sampras&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Ivanisevic&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Agassi&lt;/i&gt; all had enough class to not to let the beauty of game to drift towards the power of shots. &lt;i&gt;Sampras&lt;/i&gt; had not been my personal favorite in his initial days. His indifference and controlled temperament gave a sense of arrogance somewhere to me. But as he grew in tennis, his calmness showed the humbleness and the noble dedication for his dreams. He played classis games to defeat each and every powerful opponent every time. Thus he made the world record of 14 grand slams titles. He had pushed behind two of his own ideals of his tennis; &lt;i&gt;Borg&lt;/i&gt; and &lt;i&gt;Rod Laver&lt;/i&gt;. The era was ending with &lt;i&gt;Agassi&lt;/i&gt; managing to settle with the lady luck (&lt;i&gt;Steffi Graf&lt;/i&gt;) and making a history of winning all grand slams. I always considered him as a cool headed, focused bloke. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlHvZRnzn8I/AAAAAAAAAKE/5H8gzPYbe-I/s1600-h/courier.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 135px; height: 182px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlHvZRnzn8I/AAAAAAAAAKE/5H8gzPYbe-I/s200/courier.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355324649426362306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlIQ3CeOy7I/AAAAAAAAAKM/NFn7DrZmAjE/s1600-h/Agassi.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 182px; height: 144px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlIQ3CeOy7I/AAAAAAAAAKM/NFn7DrZmAjE/s200/Agassi.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355361444639460274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlIRe7MpA2I/AAAAAAAAAKU/KsC-PRz3lDI/s1600-h/ivanisevic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 182px; height: 172px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlIRe7MpA2I/AAAAAAAAAKU/KsC-PRz3lDI/s200/ivanisevic.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355362129881400162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; Courier&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; Agassi&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; Ivanisevic&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlIR4C4Qd9I/AAAAAAAAAKc/DKwnaHm-PJA/s1600-h/collage14slams.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 293px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlIR4C4Qd9I/AAAAAAAAAKc/DKwnaHm-PJA/s320/collage14slams.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355362561440118738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;Shades of Sampras’ 14 Grand Slams&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;In the end of 90s and start of new millennium, I was starting to believe that the top position in the mens' tennis doesn't give the flavor of watching them in the finals of grand slams. Every now and then the top players did some silly thing and the grand slam finals were between two not-so-great players of the time. To break my silly belief came the era of &lt;i&gt;Federer&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Nadal&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Hewitt&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Safin&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Roddick&lt;/i&gt; and &lt;i&gt;Djokovic&lt;/i&gt;. &lt;i&gt;Federer&lt;/i&gt; and &lt;i&gt;Nadal&lt;/i&gt; are among the greatest players of the history of tennis. In any era, there had not been two so confident, consistent, focused, dedicated, hard working players. &lt;i&gt;Federer&lt;/i&gt; had been so consistent that my belief that the top players do not make it to the finals, was totally shattered by him. 6 years and finals after finals he can be seen there. His performance in finals has been great. He has been focused in defeating with confidence, getting defeated with pride. &lt;i&gt;Sampras&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Lendl&lt;/i&gt; both couldn't convert the four grand slam myths, he did it. He made it to the rank 1 for the highest no of consecutive weeks. Just like &lt;i&gt;Sachin&lt;/i&gt;, he has all shots. His forehand, backhand, drop shots, line shots, serve and volley, smashes, aces, returns, intelligence to choose shots, stamina, consistency, level headed confidence, perseverance and not-giving-up attitude are all worth watching. &lt;i&gt;Nadal&lt;/i&gt; has power, strength, stamina, line shots, athletic body and not-so-cool temperament which can shake the opponent anytime. These two are living legends. Both of them prove every time they enter to the court. They have the drive to win each and every match. &lt;i&gt;Djokovic&lt;/i&gt; is also super class. It’s amazing to see these three greatest players of all time. Had &lt;i&gt;Djokovic&lt;/i&gt; been to any other era, he would have won many grand slams till now. But, surely Fed and Nadal do not allow any other to pitch in their desires. Once in an interview &lt;i&gt;DJokovic&lt;/i&gt; had said that he was very delighted to be at third place and &lt;i&gt;Fed &lt;/i&gt;is like God of Tennis of current era and defeating &lt;i&gt;Nadal&lt;/i&gt; is equivalent to defeating &lt;i&gt;Hercules&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlISdNoo0JI/AAAAAAAAAKk/tDn-edxLMU8/s1600-h/rafael-nadal.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 169px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlISdNoo0JI/AAAAAAAAAKk/tDn-edxLMU8/s200/rafael-nadal.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355363199982555282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlISvAklxqI/AAAAAAAAAKs/wnzRGoXpSes/s1600-h/djokovic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 126px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlISvAklxqI/AAAAAAAAAKs/wnzRGoXpSes/s200/djokovic.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355363505713563298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;Nadal&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; Djokovic&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Personally I like &lt;i&gt;Fed&lt;/i&gt; the most. The match that he played yesterday was a classical example all time great matches played at the center court of Wimbledon. I totally agree that &lt;i&gt;Roddick&lt;/i&gt; was better in two. He played like a winner. &lt;i&gt;Fed&lt;/i&gt; was defending himself many a times but &lt;i&gt;Roddick&lt;/i&gt; was not making mistakes. He made just three mistakes in the entire match: one in the second set, second in the final set when he had two break points and the last one in the end. But all of them were the mistakes which were handled well by &lt;i&gt;Federer&lt;/i&gt; given his experience, class, belief in himself and dedication towards record making performance. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlITAMRkd7I/AAAAAAAAAK0/GK_33ItryE4/s1600-h/roddick_fed.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlITAMRkd7I/AAAAAAAAAK0/GK_33ItryE4/s320/roddick_fed.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355363800912787378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;Federer and Roddick before the Wimbledon Finals 2009 official Photo&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;When the last mistake was done by &lt;i&gt;Roddick&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Fed&lt;/i&gt; jumped like a small kid who has just won the musical chair competition. He was jumping with joy and this time he had no tears like French Open. There were all smiles of his. The happy man had achieved the most awaited, deserving world record. He has made this record at the age of 27 only. I believe he has some 3-4 years still left in Tennis. I wish that he makes it to 20 grand slams soon. In the ending ceremony, &lt;i&gt;Roddick&lt;/i&gt; said to &lt;i&gt;Sampras&lt;/i&gt; that he tried to let &lt;i&gt;Fed&lt;/i&gt; not break &lt;i&gt;Sampras'&lt;/i&gt; record but &lt;i&gt;Fed&lt;/i&gt; was just perfectly good to make a new record. &lt;i&gt;Roddick&lt;/i&gt; was inches closer to disallow his third defeat at Wimbledon Finals and that too by &lt;i&gt;Fed&lt;/i&gt; only. All his sadness was on his face. He was flustered. But the day was on the name of &lt;i&gt;Fed&lt;/i&gt; who had the dream to break the record of &lt;i&gt;Sampras&lt;/i&gt; in front of the man himself and &lt;i&gt;Sampras&lt;/i&gt;, as always the super gentleman, fulfilled &lt;i&gt;Fed&lt;/i&gt;'s dream. In the end, &lt;i&gt;Laver&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Borg&lt;/i&gt;, &lt;i&gt;Sampras&lt;/i&gt; and &lt;i&gt;Fed&lt;/i&gt; had gone for a small chit chat and a photo shoot. That was an amazing scene for all the tennis fans of the world.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlITUDDhiTI/AAAAAAAAAK8/kBkAWvRgmv8/s1600-h/laver.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlITUDDhiTI/AAAAAAAAAK8/kBkAWvRgmv8/s320/laver.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355364142035339570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;Borg, Sampras, Federer, Laver (from L to R)&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am really happy for Fed today: Super legend.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlIToW-m3II/AAAAAAAAALE/etwa0cQmryk/s1600-h/fed.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlIToW-m3II/AAAAAAAAALE/etwa0cQmryk/s320/fed.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355364490980809858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I would cover my opinions on Ladies Tennis journey from 1987 till 2009 in my subsequent posts.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;[Source of All images: Wimbledon official site, Google Image Search, Getty Images]&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-4997585840389370136?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/07/tic-tic-tic-15-counter-keeps-moving-for.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SlHumgWYnpI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/HTkU-j4YCTQ/s72-c/lendl.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>6</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-5480897658382987181</guid><pubDate>Mon, 29 Jun 2009 18:09:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-29T23:54:00.338+05:30</atom:updated><title>UP wala thumka lagao...</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SkkGrqsVM3I/AAAAAAAAAJM/cgoamT4Ydvg/s1600-h/baaraat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 258px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SkkGrqsVM3I/AAAAAAAAAJM/cgoamT4Ydvg/s320/baaraat.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352816979370914674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone is getting married in your family? Are you going to attend or have you attended a marriage function soon? I can’t say about other places but the places where I have been, (UP, Bombay, Calcutta), marriages do not seem be culminated well without the craziness at Baaraats. Lavish functions, grand arrangements and just before the final steps, some steps to make the waiting as the longest one. The dancing steps of your near-dear-anyone-everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s an obsession to look craziest. It’s energy to perform endlessly. It’s a craze to sweat the most. Or, it’s a mockery for another one being staged to lifelong imprisonment. Whatever it is, it’s a fun to watch, if you are not participating and it’s a platform to get lost completely if you are all geared up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just before the onset of Baaraat, all the participants spend hours to look the greatest for the occasion. The preparation for those hours starts months back. Make up, dress up, line up and there the band comes. First few minutes, it’s all band and only the band. Everyone is saving their best dresses; they try to complain for the loudness of the band as well. No one joins and it seems that this time the Baaraat would not turn up as ‘Baaraat’. And then someone, it could be anyone, becomes the leader. He takes the initiative with a few latke-jhatke. He or she ends with the shortest performance. Now the invitation is to all. Join boss!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It starts with one type of step; latka-jhatka and you have to keep repeating the same latka-jhatka. You change your position; bend a bit, result is still the same step. Be straighten up, same step. Turn, swirl, and take rounds, same step. If you see from a distance you can feel as if some serious emergency has happened in the crowd. Everyone is shaking. A few times it gives a feeling of mild earthquake. The glittering of lights, the loudness of drums, the thud of thumping feet, so many hands upraised, a few drops of sweat passing from one person to other person and sudden shrieks of excitement. All this sums up the drama at the road. More drama can be seen up there at the roof tops. Everyone is out to see the procession going. The drama at the road is completely unaware of their scrutiny by the drama queens at the rooftops. Girls are checking handsome boys, the dancing stars. Boys are again passing their stares to whosoever they can find in the crowd. They don’t bother whom to look, they look at every female. The ladies keep their eyes on jewellery, on sarees and most importantly on Mr Dulha. ‘Who is getting married’ is the big question among them, though they don’t bother to get the answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After some time the Baraat is divided into two parts automatically. Boys’ gang is the wild one. They are sometimes sensuous, sometimes too fast and sometimes slow thumkas to imitate girls. Girls’ gang seems to be more mature as they try to follow some style of dancing. They try to follow Rajasthani, Marwari, more group efforts, more organized circles but the end is same. Similar thumkas work everywhere. The equation of the two gangs keep changing and a few members keep switching, resulting cohesion and more dancing-talk among them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a few songs you might see a few different steps. The favorite Nagin song is the key appetizer for the main dancers of the gangs. One of the guys sit down at the road, takes out his handkerchief placed specially for the song, waves it like a ‘been’ and tries to tame a snake-cum-human-another fellow obsessive Baarat-wala-thumka specialist partner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like so many Indian traditions, we have traditions of typical Baarat songs. 'Aaj mere yaad ki shaadi hai':  it’s not surely the marriage of everyone's friend, still the most popular song. 'Ye desh hai veer jawanon ka': i don’t have any clue why they play such a patriotic song for such an auspicious super emotionally excited event of one’s lifetime, but tradition is tradition. I wonder what songs they played in Baarats when these songs were not there, who thought to play these songs for the first time and when such songs became a part of traditions across places. Does anyone know? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last leg of the Baaraat is the most crucial one. The speed of the procession suddenly drops down to zero just before the main entrance. Everyone gather to show off that this is the time we have to do something. We have to break the rules and show them that we are the ones. Now the two gangs of the Baaraat become one and ‘the rivals for the day’ becomes the gang of girls’ side. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without caring for the traffic jams, the troubles to the people on roads, the Baaraat ends here with all the paths traveled whatsoever short it was. At the end of it the red kurtas become the maroon ones. The darker shades of clothes get some salty irregular shapes of maps of different countries. The combination of deodorant, sweat, panting and bad breathe of some 100 odd people make it a nauseating environment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surely, all this is worth it to the ‘Boy turning Man’, ‘Girl turning Lady’ occasion. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I feel,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Baarats and Baarats everywhere,&lt;br /&gt;Not a single one with a difference…”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-5480897658382987181?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/06/up-wala-thumka-lagao.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SkkGrqsVM3I/AAAAAAAAAJM/cgoamT4Ydvg/s72-c/baaraat.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>15</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-212758998408384149</guid><pubDate>Mon, 15 Jun 2009 17:46:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-15T23:28:26.430+05:30</atom:updated><title>सफ़र...</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SjaLZgSq1dI/AAAAAAAAAJE/xCGknRXXQWY/s1600-h/life.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 210px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SjaLZgSq1dI/AAAAAAAAAJE/xCGknRXXQWY/s320/life.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347614877830272466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though there are 4 topics still in pipeline, which includes one poetry as well, this one popped out from somewhere. I scribbled and thought to put. Have a look, here it goes..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;जीवन की आपाधापी में, सपनों को छवि तो दे देते&lt;br /&gt;क्या करना था, क्या करते हैं, इतना ही तुम बस कह लेते &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;निकले थे, सफ़र सुहाना था &lt;br /&gt;था अपने साथ ज़माना था &lt;br /&gt;बाधाओं के सुर में हरदम,&lt;br /&gt;लगता हर गीत तराना था &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;अब आज अभी, इस वेला में, तुम लेखा जोखा कर लेते &lt;br /&gt;क्या करना था, क्या करते हैं, इतना ही तुम बस कह लेते &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;जाने-अनजाने लोगों का, &lt;br /&gt;जब साथ मिला तो डगर मिली&lt;br /&gt;सोचा तो पहुँचे मंज़िल पर,&lt;br /&gt;जब आँख उठी तो नज़र खुली&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;कब कहाँ गया, कुछ कहाँ मिला, अपनों से मेला कर लेते &lt;br /&gt;क्या करना था, क्या करते हैं, इतना ही तुम बस कह लेते &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;जब आये अंत सफ़र तो बस,&lt;br /&gt;आँखों से आँसू ना छलकें&lt;br /&gt;दे जायें जग को ऐसा कुछ,&lt;br /&gt;ढूंढें तुमको हरपल पलकें&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;वह गया डगर, पग पड़े जिधर, चिन्हों को गहरा कर देते&lt;br /&gt;क्या करना था, क्या करते हैं, इतना ही तुम बस कह लेते&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-212758998408384149?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/06/blog-post_15.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SjaLZgSq1dI/AAAAAAAAAJE/xCGknRXXQWY/s72-c/life.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>11</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-4302410597025407032</guid><pubDate>Fri, 12 Jun 2009 07:18:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-12T13:11:09.221+05:30</atom:updated><title>बस यूँ ही ...</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SjIGf2cHbEI/AAAAAAAAAI8/XcTjGcG-G8k/s1600-h/thingcalledlove.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 319px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SjIGf2cHbEI/AAAAAAAAAI8/XcTjGcG-G8k/s320/thingcalledlove.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346342851901353026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its an old poem written by me.. its my first attempt to publish something in Hindi.. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;कभी रात के 'सन्नाटे' में 'गूंजती' 'रोशनी'&lt;br /&gt;तो कभी 'दिन' के 'उजाले' में 'सुनसान' वो 'महफ़िल'&lt;br /&gt;लगता है सब अजीब, पर है सब वही&lt;br /&gt;वही तो है, और सोचें तो है भी सही&lt;br /&gt;मन को लगता है कि रोशनी में शोर है &lt;br /&gt;पानी में स्वर्ग है, और सूरज निकलते ही भोर है &lt;br /&gt;पर क्या ये सही है, नहीं ये भी नहीं&lt;br /&gt;'सही' भी 'सही' नहीं, 'नहीं' भी 'नहीं' नहीं &lt;br /&gt;'नहीं' तभी 'नहीं' है, जब 'सही' सही है &lt;br /&gt;पर बिना 'गलत' के 'सही' का अस्तित्व भी सही 'नहीं' है &lt;br /&gt;'हाँ' के बिना 'नहीं' भी 'नहीं' 'नहीं' है &lt;br /&gt;तो ये सोचना कि कया 'सही' है &lt;br /&gt;और क्या 'सही' 'नहीं' है &lt;br /&gt;उतना ही 'सही' नहीं है जितना कि &lt;br /&gt;सोचना कि 'नहीं' ही 'सही' है &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;परिभाषायें तो बड़ी हैं, पर क्या &lt;br /&gt;हर परिभाषा का तात्पर्य वही है &lt;br /&gt;जो शब्द की है व्याख्या&lt;br /&gt;या उस शब्द से भी परे है &lt;br /&gt;उस शब्द कि मर्यादा और आख्या&lt;br /&gt;चलिये यूँ ही एक शब्द लेते हैं&lt;br /&gt;और अपने प्रश्नों का समाधान &lt;br /&gt;अभी कर लेते हैं&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;क्या होता है 'प्यार'&lt;br /&gt;हम सुनते हैं जिसे&lt;br /&gt;रोज़ाना, बार-बार, लगातार&lt;br /&gt;शायद तीन घंटे की फिल्म में&lt;br /&gt;हज़ार से भी ज्यादा बार &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'शब्द' की परिभाषा से भी परे &lt;br /&gt;है क्या 'प्यार'&lt;br /&gt;क्या दे सकते हैं परिभाषा &lt;br /&gt;इस छोटे से शब्द की &lt;br /&gt;क्या जानना ही 'प्यार' है &lt;br /&gt;या 'जानने' की इच्छा है ये&lt;br /&gt;या फिर ना जान कर भी सोचना &lt;br /&gt;कि यही है प्यार &lt;br /&gt;या फिर 'जान' कर भी पसंद &lt;br /&gt;कहलाता है सही अर्थों में 'प्यार'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;क्या आँखों में देखना है 'प्यार'&lt;br /&gt;या फिर आँखें ही ना देखना&lt;br /&gt;देखना उस क्षितिज के पार &lt;br /&gt;साथ-साथ, लगातार है 'प्यार'&lt;br /&gt;किसी को देखना, छूना&lt;br /&gt;ही नहीं संवेदना का व्यवहार&lt;br /&gt;प्यार नहीं लाचार, इन&lt;br /&gt;इंद्रियों से दबा असहाय, बेकार&lt;br /&gt;'प्यार' तो है इंद्रियों से परे &lt;br /&gt;हाँ, ऊपर बहुत ऊपर&lt;br /&gt;मानव को भगवान का साथ &lt;br /&gt;है प्यार &lt;br /&gt;ईश्वर को अपने बच्चे को&lt;br /&gt;दिया गया उपहार &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;समझना, जानना, जान कर समझना&lt;br /&gt;जानना समझ-समझ कर &lt;br /&gt;नहीं है 'प्यार' किसी संवेदना में&lt;br /&gt;किसी मानव के आकार में&lt;br /&gt;उसके अंदाज़ में, उसके स्पर्श में&lt;br /&gt;या फिर उसकी महक या आवाज़ में&lt;br /&gt;'प्यार' है खुद में&lt;br /&gt;रहता है वहीं, आता है वहीं से&lt;br /&gt;पर उसे जानना, समझना और &lt;br /&gt;करना है किसी का मोहताज़&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;एक अवलम्बन है व्यक्ति&lt;br /&gt;लगाने को आसक्ति&lt;br /&gt;पर सच्चाई है, आप स्वयं&lt;br /&gt;आपका वज़ूद, आपका वयं&lt;br /&gt;बस यही है 'प्यार'&lt;br /&gt;पर शब्दों में बांधना &lt;br /&gt;नहीं है 'प्यार'&lt;br /&gt;ये तो एक शुरुआत है &lt;br /&gt;'प्यार' से करने की 'प्यार'।।।&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-4302410597025407032?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/06/blog-post.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SjIGf2cHbEI/AAAAAAAAAI8/XcTjGcG-G8k/s72-c/thingcalledlove.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>7</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-1272393828280584531</guid><pubDate>Sat, 06 Jun 2009 06:28:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-06T12:05:51.764+05:30</atom:updated><title>... I miss!!!</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SioOMJYXQzI/AAAAAAAAAI0/-Rsoedi5U6k/s1600-h/i_miss_you.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 233px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SioOMJYXQzI/AAAAAAAAAI0/-Rsoedi5U6k/s320/i_miss_you.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344099509667840818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The streets and the paths…&lt;br /&gt;The trees and the flowers…&lt;br /&gt;  I miss all those when I am not there…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…when caught on the day one,&lt;br /&gt; Not getting the answers,&lt;br /&gt;I got hold my nerves,&lt;br /&gt; To scribble what I thought…&lt;br /&gt;The board and the chalk…&lt;br /&gt;The class and the bench…&lt;br /&gt;  I miss all those when I am not there…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…when to feel the amazement,&lt;br /&gt; In the teachings of the Profs,&lt;br /&gt;I got overwhelmed,&lt;br /&gt; To listen all they talk…&lt;br /&gt;The papers and the marks…&lt;br /&gt;The knowledge and the Profs…&lt;br /&gt;  I miss all those when I am not there…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…when meeting the roommates,&lt;br /&gt; My heart did feel ‘awe’,&lt;br /&gt;I ran into excitement,&lt;br /&gt; To enjoy close and far…&lt;br /&gt;The room and the wing…&lt;br /&gt;The hostel and the quad…&lt;br /&gt;  I miss all those when I am not there…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…when turned the light on,&lt;br /&gt; And the stage was set,&lt;br /&gt;I couldn’t close my mouth,&lt;br /&gt; To see the beauty of it all…&lt;br /&gt;The shows and the fests…&lt;br /&gt;The SAC and the Audi…&lt;br /&gt;  I miss all those when I am not there…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…when asked by THE people,&lt;br /&gt; Where do you see yourself,&lt;br /&gt;I pumped my reply out,&lt;br /&gt; To know the clarity of the future…&lt;br /&gt;The talking and the grooming…&lt;br /&gt;The fun and the work…&lt;br /&gt;  I miss all those when I am not there…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…now when I sit my feet crossed,&lt;br /&gt;…my hands on my lap,&lt;br /&gt;…I see everything,&lt;br /&gt;…turning on, turning off,&lt;br /&gt;…the long run to reach,&lt;br /&gt;…the perfect paths to travel,&lt;br /&gt;…every sound of it is silent,&lt;br /&gt;…every bit of it is over,&lt;br /&gt;…the one thing never goes&lt;br /&gt;…&amp;, grows every time,&lt;br /&gt;…yes.. I miss all that,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes.. I miss all those…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-1272393828280584531?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-miss.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SioOMJYXQzI/AAAAAAAAAI0/-Rsoedi5U6k/s72-c/i_miss_you.gif" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>9</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-4767177562046039608</guid><pubDate>Tue, 26 May 2009 17:57:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-26T23:42:07.446+05:30</atom:updated><title>Move on!!!</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/Shww5AZIL5I/AAAAAAAAAIs/iQnFY_n78Nc/s1600-h/06+Move+On.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/Shww5AZIL5I/AAAAAAAAAIs/iQnFY_n78Nc/s320/06+Move+On.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340197014070636434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;elections' drama.. results unfolded.. some happy faces of 'V' signs.. some sad non-visible-known-high-profile-faces.. later the acceptance of defeat.. winnings.. defeats..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IPL drama.. everyday changing equations.. everyday some big hits.. some silly misses.. the hard-working-risk-taking-mysterious-winning moments.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;some riots.. a toofan which has taken my college campus in its attack as well..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;some nuclear testing.. some breaking of promises..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;some exam results.. some expectations met.. some more set for even higher ones..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;some new lives.. some super successes.. some promises of those successes.. some heart breaking pieces and some despairs to not-to-arrange the pieces again.. some courage to fight back with even more spirits..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my life sums up all the melodrama seeing, happening at the centre stage of so many things.. i can't follow everything.. i try to as much.. and in all this i read somewhere which was related to my earlier post as well.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we all go up.. come down.. and then start again.. we say to ourselves or someone says to us.. 'its not the end of life..' we understand it and life moves again.. as we have the understanding or illustration or dream or passion or dilemma or clueless decisions or the most mundane things about our 'life' as such.. and we do things.. the next things in hand.. as we know that this is not 'the end'.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but.. but.. but.. think about people who have some incurable disease like AIDS.. what can you tell them.. they don’t have the next things of their lives.. they can live but they do not know what the living at their present is.. or what the living would be in their future.. or do they have even stamina or strength to live for the next moments as well??.. they have pains of different kind that we cannot even think of.. they have their past.. they have their presents which is declining everyday with lesser moments every time to be called as 'present'.. future is so bleak that they can’t even think of thinking about it.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but that doesn’t sum up the all of it.. think about those kids who have got this disease.. they do not have their hands in it.. they have just got it.. destined to get it.. destined to live it.. they don’t have the phenomenon of life as such.. what they had started with, cannot be termed as life.. their condition started as death only.. some of them must have learned to do the basic needs of their life, in that unknown pain of the disease.. why did they learn all that when there is no future of all those... maybe when he would get the idea to use things for the future by this learning of the present, by then the future won’t be there at all to be liven up.. still things happen for them as well.. the worst thing is the society which do not accept them.. they are not the part of the daily life.. or life of the society... is this the picture we are posing to them.. is it we are telling them.. is it for which we are created.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what’s all this!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and the life still moves on???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-4767177562046039608?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/05/move-on.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/Shww5AZIL5I/AAAAAAAAAIs/iQnFY_n78Nc/s72-c/06+Move+On.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>12</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-4248772185110320863</guid><pubDate>Sun, 10 May 2009 07:12:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-10T13:30:40.442+05:30</atom:updated><title>Very touchy!!!</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgaJebhkntI/AAAAAAAAAIc/kXamu-Dms7o/s1600-h/cal_hobb-raccoon1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 125px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgaJebhkntI/AAAAAAAAAIc/kXamu-Dms7o/s400/cal_hobb-raccoon1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334101964544581330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgaJeBJyuUI/AAAAAAAAAIU/lTKAMOLJRg8/s1600-h/cal_hobb-raccoon2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 127px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgaJeBJyuUI/AAAAAAAAAIU/lTKAMOLJRg8/s400/cal_hobb-raccoon2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334101957465520450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgaJd6WfzBI/AAAAAAAAAIM/q_TSKtI2w4Q/s1600-h/cal_hobb-raccoon3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 126px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgaJd6WfzBI/AAAAAAAAAIM/q_TSKtI2w4Q/s400/cal_hobb-raccoon3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334101955639757842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgaJd41lmeI/AAAAAAAAAIE/eulBHmW1bLQ/s1600-h/cal_hobb-raccoon4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 133px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgaJd41lmeI/AAAAAAAAAIE/eulBHmW1bLQ/s400/cal_hobb-raccoon4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334101955233290722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgaJBz3toMI/AAAAAAAAAH8/61lP2yFIzwE/s1600-h/cal_hobb-raccoon5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 127px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgaJBz3toMI/AAAAAAAAAH8/61lP2yFIzwE/s400/cal_hobb-raccoon5.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334101472863690946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgaJB5kWijI/AAAAAAAAAH0/7QY0GIAbBKY/s1600-h/cal_hobb-raccoon6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 125px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgaJB5kWijI/AAAAAAAAAH0/7QY0GIAbBKY/s400/cal_hobb-raccoon6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334101474393098802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgaJBhP3-wI/AAAAAAAAAHs/A__nAWJLEes/s1600-h/cal_hobb-raccoon7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 127px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgaJBhP3-wI/AAAAAAAAAHs/A__nAWJLEes/s400/cal_hobb-raccoon7.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334101467864759042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgaJBR0i2NI/AAAAAAAAAHk/_E3Fbn8hnWw/s1600-h/cal_hobb-raccoon8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 128px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgaJBR0i2NI/AAAAAAAAAHk/_E3Fbn8hnWw/s400/cal_hobb-raccoon8.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334101463723595986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgaJBPPeL5I/AAAAAAAAAHc/u8sqSlLs-nQ/s1600-h/cal_hobb-raccoon9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 127px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgaJBPPeL5I/AAAAAAAAAHc/u8sqSlLs-nQ/s400/cal_hobb-raccoon9.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334101463031230354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... A very naughty kid being emotional is even more touchy.. Love it.. :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-4248772185110320863?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/05/very-touchy.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgaJebhkntI/AAAAAAAAAIc/kXamu-Dms7o/s72-c/cal_hobb-raccoon1.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-5876880002534219418</guid><pubDate>Wed, 06 May 2009 11:53:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-06T17:25:58.089+05:30</atom:updated><title>... "Imagination is more important than knowledge!!!"</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgF6uuTsxuI/AAAAAAAAAFE/CrcYw_D7Ulk/s1600-h/kids.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 243px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgF6uuTsxuI/AAAAAAAAAFE/CrcYw_D7Ulk/s320/kids.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332678376906606306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kids.. so pure.. so innocent.. so selfless.. we grow.. we learn.. become worldy-smart.. and forget the basics that we knew very well when we were kids.. we were not afraid of the results.. we tried.. we learnt to walk.. to speak... we did all sorts of mistakes and became an expert.. we donot know what a child suffers and struggles with at that age of learning.. but we grow and start thinking that all the most difficult problems of the world are growing around us only.. we stop learning..we stop making mistakes..we stop taking challenges..we don't run.. we don't fall.. we don't get up.. we are afraid of the world.. moresoever we are afraid of ourselves of failure.. we don't do.. and then we also expect that we should get the best results of our so-called not-so-efforts.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and in all this we believe that we have grown up and stop ignoring the sweetest, purest, loveliest creature of god own love.. kids.. whenever i meet kids, i am moved.. i never get so much creative replies from a grown up.. we all live in the world of our own meanness and think that this is being "practical" in life.. but a kid is living in many worlds.. one is the world that they are seeing(that we are seeing as well but the same world is more corrupt through our own eyes and by our own deeds) and others are different worlds of their own individual infinitely different imaginations.. may be those imagined world are overlapping also.. an elephant might be looking like a lion in that world.. and when it meets the another dog-looking-elephant of another world, they know each other as elephants only.. may be the fundamentals of relativity wont be that difficult as understanding the meaning of their worlds by us "practical" people of "real" world.. may be einstein have been inspired by those small imaginations to get the theory of relativity.. whenever i think of being smarter, i think of being kid again and start thinking through his brains.. its difficult.. but i do want to run.. i do want to fall in this struggle of understanding their worlds.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there is a dream in me.. i don't know what started this.. may be some kids whom i had seen wandering aimlessly.. or bombay local trains.. very small kids concentrating on coins rather than on their self.. or a few imaginations of the slums and seeing the slum-realities as even worse.. or may be the horrifying pictures of the life of the kids of prostitutes.. or some unwanted kids thrown somewhere by their not-acceptable parents.. ( i donot say that those kids were unacceptable.. as God could accept them in Her world.. then surely God didnt want those parents to be the parents of those kids.. )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want to adopt a few children.. may be 2.. i would LOVE to look after them as my own kids.. give them whatever they want from me as a father of them.. (or may be as mother would be more appropriate).. give them the life as what it is not.. but what they would like it to be.. i would not like them to be the "practical" in the way the world thinks this term to be.. i would like them to be imaginative.. free.. individual.. and full of mental strength to fight for what they are/want themseleves to be... frankly, i do not want to have my own kids.. i believe that there are so many kids already in the earth to be taken care of, that there is no need to give it more.. (if we can't take care of the present numbers itself)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;whenever i talk about these things, people say it to be rubbish.. its been 7-8 years of my such thinking and i still find it very right.. not rubbish at all.. i had talked to profs at IIM as well for such thinking of mine.. someone recently said to me to open an old age home, not to give a home to kids.. i think we have better responsibility for the future.. past has gone to memories.. and those memories are the beauty, happiness of life.. but we also have to think about making more happy future.. that future should be more progressive, productive, lovely and beyond our imagination.. i respect old people, i take care of them.. i would like to make future more memorable for those old people as well.. and thats only possible by giving command to more responsible kids..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i would like to have things working for this dream of mine ... and for that i want the brain of a kid.. hehe.. :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-5876880002534219418?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/05/imagination-is-more-important-than.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SgF6uuTsxuI/AAAAAAAAAFE/CrcYw_D7Ulk/s72-c/kids.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>11</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-8374662432492985441</guid><pubDate>Mon, 20 Apr 2009 15:08:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-04-21T21:41:07.619+05:30</atom:updated><title>100 Questions!! :-)</title><description>Saw these questions at mukta's blog.. thought to give it a hand.. :-) here it is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LAST TIMES…&lt;br /&gt;1. Last beverage: Water&lt;br /&gt;2. Last phone call: Mr. A. M. Jain for the correction in his to be printed book&lt;br /&gt;3. Last text message: Airtel services&lt;br /&gt;4. Last song you listened to: Baawra mann dekhna chala ek sapna&lt;br /&gt;5. Last time you cried: yesterday while watching hddcs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAVE YOU EVER...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Dated someone twice: No&lt;br /&gt;7. Been cheated on? : I don’t use this word.. :P&lt;br /&gt;8. Kissed someone &amp; regretted it? Yes&lt;br /&gt;9. Lost someone special? Yes. Nani&lt;br /&gt;10. Been depressed? Yes. Once in a while in a year&lt;br /&gt;11. Been drunk and threw up? I don’t drink.. :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LIST FOUR FAVORITE COLORS:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Blue&lt;br /&gt;13. Pink&lt;br /&gt;14. Yellow&lt;br /&gt;15. Black&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FIRSTS :&lt;br /&gt;16. Made new friends: Everywhere&lt;br /&gt;17. Fallen out of love: It’s a question whether it was love or not..&lt;br /&gt;18. Laughed until you cried: Many Times..&lt;br /&gt;19. Met someone who changed you: A great deal of mine is learning from different people.. there is someone who has changed a lot in me very positively&lt;br /&gt;20. Found out who your true friends were: “true” itself is hard to define.. :P&lt;br /&gt;21. Found out someone was talking about you: Yes... and felt blessed.. hehe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAVE YOU:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. Kissed anyone on your friend's list: Yes.. is kissing so taboo to be discussed so many times.. :P&lt;br /&gt;23. How many people on your friends list do you know in real life: 99% of them&lt;br /&gt;24. How many kids do you want to have: None if my wife agrees finally.. :-) wish to open an orphanage&lt;br /&gt;25. Do you have any pets: A parrot&lt;br /&gt;26. Do you want to change your name: Nahi... wanted in 1994.. :P&lt;br /&gt;27. What did you do for your last birthday: Contemplated on different years.. &lt;br /&gt;28.What time did you wake up today: 6:45 am&lt;br /&gt;29. What were you doing at midnight last night: Had severe headache, stomachache&lt;br /&gt;30. Name something you CANNOT wait for : Reading books.. :-)&lt;br /&gt;31. Last time you saw your father: Just 1 min back..&lt;br /&gt;32. What is one thing you wish you could change about your life: A day of my life.. back in 2003..&lt;br /&gt;33. Most visited web page: Blogger Home/Gmail/yahoomail&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT'S YOUR :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. Name: Ashwini&lt;br /&gt;35. Nicknames: ashkd/pappan/ashes/ash/munna&lt;br /&gt;36. Zodiac sign: Virgo. Moon sign is Aquarian.&lt;br /&gt;37. Male or female or transgender : Male&lt;br /&gt;38. Elementary: Shishu Mandir, PDDV &lt;br /&gt;39. Colleges: IIT Kanpur, IIM Calcutta&lt;br /&gt;40. Hair color: Dark Brown&lt;br /&gt;41. Long or short: Short (got cut after 5 months last Sunday.. :P)&lt;br /&gt;42. Height: 5’7”&lt;br /&gt;43. Do you have a crush on someone? Yes !! I would prefer it to go to become Love someday.. :-)&lt;br /&gt;44. Ever been in love? Yes.. many times.. :-)&lt;br /&gt;45. Piercings? No&lt;br /&gt;46. Tattoos? No&lt;br /&gt;47. Righty or lefty: Righty&lt;br /&gt;48. First surgery: Touchwood!! :-)&lt;br /&gt;49. First piercing: No&lt;br /&gt;50. First best friend: Sudeep gupta&lt;br /&gt;51. First sport you loved: and still love - Tennis&lt;br /&gt;52. First pet : The Parrot we have still..&lt;br /&gt;53. First vacation: To Jodhpur when I was less than 5&lt;br /&gt;54. First concert: Must be Spic Macay one in IIT K itself..&lt;br /&gt;55. First crush: in Class 1&lt;br /&gt;56. Eating: Not well.. not in a state to eat anything.. &lt;br /&gt;57. Drinking: Eno.. :-)&lt;br /&gt;58. I'm about to: eat dinner&lt;br /&gt;59. Listening to: Papa telling that there is some fire in Kanpur.. its serious.. :-(&lt;br /&gt;60. Waiting for: to get well. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOUR FUTURE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;61. Want kids? No.. already stated before..&lt;br /&gt;62. Want to get married? Of course.. :-)&lt;br /&gt;63. Careers in mind? Freelancing then to HR consulting to manufacturing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHICH IS BETTER WITH THE OPPOSITE SEX?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;64. Lips or eyes: Eyes of course..&lt;br /&gt;65. Hugs or kisses: Hugs &lt;br /&gt;66. Shorter or taller: Doesn’t matter&lt;br /&gt;67. Older or Younger: Older.. my intentions are pretty clear.. :-)&lt;br /&gt;68. Romantic or spontaneous: Mix..more importantly intelligent to know when to give what.. :-)&lt;br /&gt;69. Nice stomach or nice arms: Nice stomach&lt;br /&gt;70. Sensitive or loud: Sensitive&lt;br /&gt;71. Hook-up or relationship: Relationship &lt;br /&gt;72. Trouble maker or hesitant: Hesitant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAVE YOU EVER :&lt;br /&gt;73. Kissed a stranger: No..&lt;br /&gt;74. Lost glasses/contacts: My eyes are 6/5 as per doctor’s report.. :-)&lt;br /&gt;76. Broken some one's heart: Yes.. I learned after that I could have handled in a better way..&lt;br /&gt;77. Had your own heart broken: Haan.. &lt;br /&gt;78. Been arrested: No.. I don’t have license.. so I might.. :P&lt;br /&gt;79. Turned someone down: Yes...&lt;br /&gt;80. Cried when someone died: Yes.. a lot..&lt;br /&gt;81. Liked a friend that is a girl?: You mean "Romantically"? Obviously.. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO YOU BELIEVE IN:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;81. Yourself: Yes... more than 100%&lt;br /&gt;82. Miracles: Yes...&lt;br /&gt;83. God: I love Her..&lt;br /&gt;84. Love at first sight: Its farce&lt;br /&gt;85. Heaven: We get what we do here itself in the same birth..&lt;br /&gt;86. Santa Claus: I do as I believe in divine presence.. :-)&lt;br /&gt;87. Kiss on the first date? No..&lt;br /&gt;88. Angels: Perfectly.. :-)&lt;br /&gt;89. Devils: Yes.. to an extent..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANSWER TRUTHFULLY:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;90. Is there one person you want to be with right now? Yes :-)&lt;br /&gt;91. Had more than one boyfriend/girlfriend at one time? Never..&lt;br /&gt;92. Wanted to kill someone ever? No..&lt;br /&gt;93. Among your blog mates, whom would you like to kiss? Whosoever wants to be kissed.. :-)&lt;br /&gt;94. Committed a blunder and regretted later? In 2003 once.. I still regret. :-(&lt;br /&gt;95. Wanted to steal you friend's boyfriend / girlfriend? :hehe.. No..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ASSOCIATE WITH SOMETHING YOU WEAR :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;96. White: Vest&lt;br /&gt;97. Black: Trousers&lt;br /&gt;98. Red: One shirt&lt;br /&gt;99. Pink: One Shirt&lt;br /&gt;100. Posting this as 100 Truths? :-) Yes.. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tag allll my blogger friends for this one !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-8374662432492985441?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/04/100-questions.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><thr:total>16</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-2118502669150622614</guid><pubDate>Thu, 16 Apr 2009 10:38:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-04-16T16:19:38.269+05:30</atom:updated><title>i also want to be a celebrity!! :-)</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SecNKp54C_I/AAAAAAAAAE8/wnVu0rKqo4c/s1600-h/H1_FabLife.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 291px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SecNKp54C_I/AAAAAAAAAE8/wnVu0rKqo4c/s320/H1_FabLife.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325239561087355890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a show at mtv which talks about "the celebrity" of india..  their business, money, spending money, cars, suits, bags and finally the worth of their vampire empire.. sometimes it looks like that these people can have anything in the world.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;properties worth Rs. 500 crores.. cars worth Rs. 100 crores.. the scariness of the sentences haunt you later and amaze you at the figures first.. people take decisions based upon some thousands, lakhs.. your mouth won’t open to charge 5 crores for an ad.. an ad which would be of max 100 secs.. may be it would take some 10 hrs time of the celebrity to get it final shot.. or may be even lesser.. so such a person can charge more than 50 lakhs an hour.. costing Rs. 1500 per second.. the new criteria for the BPL is earning less than $2 per day.. and there are more than 70 crores people in india with such a status currently.. these "celebrity" can match this criteria in just 1/15th of a second.. there are some 86400 secs in a day.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this makes me wonder about indian astrology.. they talk about luck, future.. and the planetary positions.. there are some 70 crores people who have similar fates.. and there are some so damn rich celebrity who can guide the world under their toes.. which combination of planets has done this to them?? and i wonder more for their kids.. just because they had that combination of fate, their sons automatically got the similar or even better fate-planet-combinations.. and this propagates over the generations.. so some low probabilistic thing is getting thinner and thinner to be probabilistically valid..  but it does.. same for those BPL people..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big B gets 115 crores for writing his blog.. i pay for internet and electricity for writing this blog.. am i also not BPL?? hehehe... :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-2118502669150622614?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-also-want-to-be-celebrity.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SecNKp54C_I/AAAAAAAAAE8/wnVu0rKqo4c/s72-c/H1_FabLife.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-4467959889925264100</guid><pubDate>Fri, 06 Mar 2009 14:19:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-03-06T19:55:52.969+05:30</atom:updated><title>why dont i write a technical one ever!!</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SbEyWd85xvI/AAAAAAAAAEw/9p297Vc6hu8/s1600-h/Decisions-714972.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 230px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SbEyWd85xvI/AAAAAAAAAEw/9p297Vc6hu8/s320/Decisions-714972.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310080797225109234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;like everyone else of my surroundings.. um.. not surroundings. people whom i know as friends or people whom i have shared those 100 min learning experiences everyday for 2 years..  or 55 min for 4 years.. people are thinking and ending up with some conclusions... some of them have got their hands with someone's hands, as close as touching their hearts with them.. some of them have got their noses in the pockets and thinking of dipping those more into those and still not getting enough.. they should not as well, as its the start of their career... let it proliferate with the biggest of successes of lifetime.. meanwhile a few pictures randomly pop up to me.. and amaze me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i saw a photocopy shop owner yesterday.. he was a boy, some 15 years back.. riding fast bicycles.. shouting at people.. having those cheer up smiles of getting the young age at his hands.. looking for more and saying to the world that he would shine.. or he rocks/rules.. whatever.. i never noticed him later.. or i did, but never thought at length about him... i tried to draw the missing life of 15 years of his... with extra tempo and no recognition of the core of it, he might have tried many of the things.. or he might not have, even.. he might have done his graduation/post graduation or may be, he might not have done.. but he must have thought about earning money and he might have landed with a sum of money to start a shop.. small enough to get his money repaid for the cost of photocopying machine in the time of what duration,he doesn't know himself.. years passed and since there was no other photocopy shop in that area, he got a sum of money to diversify it to become a small shop for the printouts and the small write ups as well.. then he got another photocopy machine, much sophisticated...now, he works with both .. but.. where he is now and where he was 15 years back, are the two different things.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;practically a situation we all end up with.. people have dreams and the guts to talk about their dreams till the time they have the energy and not-so-surrendering-attitude-towards-unknown-correlations-of-life.. they have their friends when they pass out of, so to say, iit.. 3-4 years pass.. more years.. and they had thought to meet again sometime in the future.. that time doesn't come that so soon either.. people take 2 of their decisions of life and get  more in returns(read, kids) as well to make their life busy in their social circle of family-family relatives-family friend- office friends.. where are the old people.. they are there.. not on calls..either in the memory... of course the happiest ones.. and in their messages of "whassup?" or "anything new".. when practically none have the time or energy to give proper ears to so many new things happened over those years.. life moves on.. and after sometime we also leave those dreams.. in the decisions of to only those two big decisions of life. that sums up the life.. there are rarest people who go beyond those two decisions.. follow their dreams.. and they only make up to the history...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i still wonder what happens at the age of 70.. do you look back and think about your life.. and then sigh and say, this is the life you wanted..and at the hindsight, you know you have killed so much of yours so many times.. or, may be you love it always.. i feel contented most of the times.. am i old at this age itself?? hehe..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and the life goes on..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-4467959889925264100?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/03/why-dont-i-write-technical-one-ever.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SbEyWd85xvI/AAAAAAAAAEw/9p297Vc6hu8/s72-c/Decisions-714972.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>7</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-9075684900880424389</guid><pubDate>Tue, 03 Feb 2009 04:06:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-02-03T09:41:09.282+05:30</atom:updated><title>I say...</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SYfDqZKQ6jI/AAAAAAAAAEY/Hxud7xS3wA0/s1600-h/purity.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SYfDqZKQ6jI/AAAAAAAAAEY/Hxud7xS3wA0/s320/purity.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298418619700537906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i was trying to correlate so many things lately.. read two books of ‘Paulo cohelo’ in a week...’ Brida’ and ‘Eleven minutes’.. recalled others.. a half hearted unsuccessful reading attempt of the biggest booker prize winner,’The midnight's children’.. a few interactions with old friends.. many old stories to cherish...some heartbreaks for a few.. i never want those to happen.. a few altercations with people over their business issues.. some remembrance of fight over things for those who had been close to heart for 5 years now.. then a few interviews today with discussions.. openly with one and closed one with the second one.. a smile on face while returning back of an unknown success of not-so-tangible yet worthy time spent.. and now watching 'Rock on'.. just like adi saying.. Again!! once again.. again of again i guess for the 8th time now.. in a few weeks.. a closeness to ‘Pretty woman’.. a closeness to ‘Notting hill’... a deep likeness for ‘Shall we dance’.. a major attachment for ‘Remember the titans’.. die hard supporter of 'My experiment with the truth'.. love with 'Fountainhead'.. many drops of tears after 'The god of small things'.. 'A thousand splendid suns'.. a line of satisfaction of smile after 'Kite runner'.. a beauty of innocence of 'Anything for you ma'm'.. an appreciation and overwhelmed feeling for a few THE profs of iitk... an admiration for those who taught at iimc... a respect for the places i had been.. i got guidance.. i learned.. i am learning.. a care for the people who influenced and taught me to live.. a respect for parents.. an affection to family.. a love for those who are not known to you.. an unknown love and affection for whom you know.. a sense of writing successfully all this.. as now i know a bit of the meaning of the purity, the sacredness of thoughts, the innocence of knowledge, the logic of emotions.. as i know that the one thing that makes the core of all of it.. its THE HONESTY!! a smile of understanding the efforts with which all this is created.. a pride for why i get to like, love, admire, adore each and everything of it..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'tum ho to hai sab haasil... tum nahi to kya hai yahan..'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'tumko hai mangtiii.. ye zindagiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii'........... :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A tribute to ‘Rock on’, a salute to ‘Magik’ the band, and a belongingness to Prachi Desai(Sakshi) who inspired me to write this after watching the scenes and songs of it for the 8th times in 4 weeks…..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-9075684900880424389?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-say.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SYfDqZKQ6jI/AAAAAAAAAEY/Hxud7xS3wA0/s72-c/purity.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-5989646160148047785</guid><pubDate>Mon, 05 Jan 2009 18:22:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-06T00:05:38.970+05:30</atom:updated><title>Heart...</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SWJRLMKJE8I/AAAAAAAAAEA/iQ1mBIgbCQE/s1600-h/heart_prison.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:centre; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 294px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SWJRLMKJE8I/AAAAAAAAAEA/iQ1mBIgbCQE/s320/heart_prison.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287878165170557890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stung by an unknown bee, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With falling steps randomly;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tiring, Bleeding, Murmuring to myself…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A drop of blood from my brain to heart;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A hint of sweat from my toe to hairs…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a trail,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That doesn’t last long, much;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It starts, shatters, walks,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pops,  lifts and then dies…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To a path which doesn’t get steps, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a step which doesn’t make sound;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds of deep slumber…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn’t get heard;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It goes… it comes…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It moves… it jumps…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It talks only to himself;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though with the loudest thuds,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn’t get noticed…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doesn’t create attention…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lacks sensation;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A slumber in peace…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A thought in motion…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A mind in capture…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A heart in prison…….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its a general one; nothing specific.. read the words, not my mind.. :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-5989646160148047785?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2009/01/heart.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SWJRLMKJE8I/AAAAAAAAAEA/iQ1mBIgbCQE/s72-c/heart_prison.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14953215.post-7674762150809311031</guid><pubDate>Tue, 23 Sep 2008 14:31:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-09-23T21:18:42.313+05:30</atom:updated><title>crush.. infatuation.. juhiiiiiiii..alinaaaaaaaaaaa</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SNkPo8AtSdI/AAAAAAAAAC4/PgM_d0UNTnQ/s1600-h/alina_big_stamp.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SNkPo8AtSdI/AAAAAAAAAC4/PgM_d0UNTnQ/s320/alina_big_stamp.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249244036655303122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;who is she?? she is a "common" girl.. she was.. not anymore.. she is celebrity.. not till now.. might be in the making.. she is one of the twin sisters.. she is shy, cool, dusky, straight forward, stands for herself, has self pride.. sometimes shaky and doesn't know how to react.. she is learning.. she wants to learn... not a slow-and-steady-wins the race types.. if you can run fast then why to go slow.. she is thinking to run fast and might be tumbling at points.. granted.. this much for learning from your own mistakes and going gradually up..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and the most important point.. she is the 2nd celebrity (kind of.. ok.. lets say a-seen-on-TV girl) who made my heart to stop irregularly.. my eyes to stop moving in curiosity.. the remote to go somewhere hidden as it was not required till the time she was on screen.. and me watching the same show thrice daily (on some days... ) She is Alina.. Alina Wadiawalla..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;first TV-crush cum infatuation cum loosing your senses cum slow motions of pahla nasha pahla khumar.. at the age of 12.. with Juhi.. the first time for me.. the second is now for Alina.. at 26.. peoplesay you learn as you grow.. but for me, its just like old fashion or history which repeats itself after sometime.. that was fun for months.. the timelag or the so called maturity doesnt let me to go to that stage.. this much for crossing an age and gaining some sensibilty, if there any in me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile.. i was thinking about three things..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. recently another virgo, Ms Kareena Kapoor had her birthday.. she turned 28.. I think Amrita singh must have been around this age only when she got married to Saif... So when he was 23 something he loved a 28 something girl.. now he is 40+ and still loves 28 something girl.. hmmm.. does he love anyone or its just the age that he loves.. :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. just like archimedes, i also think most creatively when i take a bath.. and unlike him, i learn new things and innovation while i sleep..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i was taking a bath and i realised that most of the names of hindustani girls have a trend.. if their name starts with the letter 'A' then there is very very high probability that the name would end with the letter 'A' or 'I'.. like AlinA.. AsthA.. ApoorvA.. AartI.. AradhnA.. AnamikA.. AyushI.. ArushI.. etc.. exceptions.. Aeman.. Annu..(abhi suggested this one) this gave the thought to second thinking..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Why do girls have their last alphabet at a higher note.. 'I', 'A' or 'U' generally.. i think in older times, the girls must have been shouted regularly for hourework or in general also.. like.. arre Annuuuuuuuuuuuuu suno zara.. or any other thing.. in those times shouting a boy's name would have been thought very bad.. so their name is mostly with the ending letter in a lower tone.. you cannot shout those names..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT.. the time has come for equality so guys are also having names which can be shouted.. and i am torch bearer of the modern age... i am proud of myself for this... :-) Ashwiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiii :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;Have Fun!!!&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14953215-7674762150809311031?l=chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://chhotisiduniya.blogspot.com/2008/09/crush-infatuation-juhiiiiiiiialinaaaaaa.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (ashkd)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eUNE_7pzyZo/SNkPo8AtSdI/AAAAAAAAAC4/PgM_d0UNTnQ/s72-c/alina_big_stamp.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></item></channel></rss>

