tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22754060708288901952020-12-12T21:59:25.305+05:30hTe osLt - Stories, Poems And MemoirsA blog containing poems, stories and memoirs. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.comBlogger96125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-13898055192722833442016-05-18T19:19:00.000+05:302016-05-18T21:04:30.772+05:30A Perfect Marriage<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #282a2a; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.56px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-b55834c9-c406-ff8d-ba82-3a24b18fba23"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"></span></span><br><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-b55834c9-c406-ff8d-ba82-3a24b18fba23"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 18.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">was the only one I knew who was looking forward to getting married. I had had girlfriends, two or three maybe and I had been in love several times. But the idea of marriage, of living with one person for your whole life, with immense love and commitment was so pure and nerve wrecking that I wanted it. I found Maya when I was attending my cousin’s wedding. Her father introduced me to her and after some weird mumbo jumbo, I was ready to marry her, I had said yes. I remember Mother asking me during those minutes of unconsciousness, if I was willing to marry a girl I had barely met but I had absolutely no doubts about it. I was confident. Now, you see, Maya was really beautiful, she had the most amazing eyes I had seen and her hair danced when she walked. I remember the moment she said ‘Hi, I am Maya’ to me, I was floored. There was no way I could say no to her. </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break"></span></span></span></div><span id="docs-internal-guid-b55834c9-c406-ff8d-ba82-3a24b18fba23"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"></span></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-b55834c9-c406-ff8d-ba82-3a24b18fba23"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></span></div><span id="docs-internal-guid-b55834c9-c406-ff8d-ba82-3a24b18fba23"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"></span></span></div></div><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/2016/05/a-perfect-arranged-marriage-short-story-vineet-digga.html#more">Continue Here »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-74315630884604066962015-07-06T12:59:00.001+05:302015-08-03T21:35:40.996+05:30Amish Tripathi's 'Scion of Ikshvaku' is both entertaining and bland at the same time. <!-- Microdata markup added by Google Structured Data Markup Helper. --><html><head></head><body><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/Book" class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><div style="color: #666666; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 15.3999996185303px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px; text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 20.7999992370605px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Book: <span itemprop="name">Scion Of Ikshvaku</span></span></div><div style="color: #666666; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 15.3999996185303px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px; text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 20.7999992370605px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Author: <span itemprop="author" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/Person"><span itemprop="name">Amish Tripathi</span></span></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div><div style="color: #666666; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 15.3999996185303px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px; text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 20.7999992370605px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Language: <span itemprop="inLanguage">English</span></span></div><div style="color: #666666; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 15.3999996185303px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.38; text-align: justify; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.38; text-align: justify; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span><br><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.38; text-align: justify; white-space: pre-wrap;">might contain some spoilers...</span></div></div><div style="color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b id="docs-internal-guid-2eddc077-6217-af79-db77-c62818519086" style="font-weight: normal;"><br></b></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If you've been born and brought up in India, there's not much I can spoil with my </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>Scion of Ikshvaku</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>review. </b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We all have heard or read or seen some variation of Ramayana, the story </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Maryada purushottam </i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ram, the epitome of perfection, and his struggle to revive </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Ayodhya</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> its past glory. </span></div><div style="color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br></b></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This sort of book (a re-telling of a previous classic) is easier to write, I believe, as you already have a well-established plot to base your story on. You have all the situations handed over to you, the struggles of the family, the dual-lives of an emperor, the throne succession, the politics of it and everything else. Amish didn't have to sit and ponder over any character arc, he knew how Ram was going to be, how Dasrath was going to be and so on. What I give Amish credit for is, he stayed entirely true to his idea of the world that Ram and Ravana lived in. There were no shortcuts (read: magic), like a person couldn't just disappear to save his live with some old </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>mantra</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. And hence, I am going to judge it purely on the basis of how Amish handled this subject, his own interpretation of the work and not Ram's story itself. </span><br><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></div></div></div></div></body></html><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/2015/07/amish-tripathi--scion-of-ikshvaku-ram-book-review.html#more">Continue Here »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-73635556645960500642015-01-02T11:01:00.000+05:302015-07-18T13:47:27.015+05:30Ab Toh Teri Awaaz! (Poem In Hindi On Love And Break Up)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #282a2a; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><div style="color: #666666; font-size: 15.3999996185303px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px; text-align: left;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-aa5d430b-a91d-28db-d71b-b732a39ea994"></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">[This is a breakup poem in Hindi written by a guy for his girlfriend. If you like it, please share on Facebook. <span style="color: black; font-size: small; line-height: 28px;">You can read all of my poems in poems here- </span><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/search/label/Poetry" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 28px;">Link</a></span><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 15.3999996185303px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px;">]</span><br><div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Merriweather; line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-aa5d430b-a91d-28db-d71b-b732a39ea994"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></span></div><div style="font-family: Merriweather;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-aa5d430b-a91d-28db-d71b-b732a39ea994"></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Merriweather; line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-aa5d430b-a91d-28db-d71b-b732a39ea994"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></span></div><div style="font-family: Merriweather;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-aa5d430b-a91d-28db-d71b-b732a39ea994"></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Merriweather; line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-aa5d430b-a91d-28db-d71b-b732a39ea994"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></span></div><span id="docs-internal-guid-aa5d430b-a91d-28db-d71b-b732a39ea994" style="font-family: Merriweather;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">khaane ke naam pe apne gam ko kha jaata hun,</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">pyaas lagti hai toh in aansuo ko pi jaata hun,</span></div><br><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ek jhuti muskaan ka chaadar odhe, sabko bewkoof bana jaata hun,</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">chali gayi kahin mujhe is bheed mei akele chode,</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">isi baat se pareshan ho jaata hun,</span></div><br><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">neend mei kayi rangeen kywaab bun jaata hun,</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">tu sapno mei toh aayegi yahi soch ghanto so jaata hun, </span></div><br><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">wo lamhe yaad karke aaj bhi muskura jaata hun,</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">thoda pagal pehle se tha, thoda tera naam sunne se ho jaata hun,</span></div><br><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">aage badhne ki chahat bahut hoti hai,</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">par tu aayegi wapas isi umeed mei beth jaata hun,</span></div><br><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">saath nibhaane wale log hai mere saath,</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">par tanhai mei tera saath na paake, ro jaata hun,</span></div><br><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">jaanta hun, ab sab pehle sa nahi ho sakta,</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">par tab bhi apne man ko behla jaata hun,</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">tujhe bhulna aashan nahi,</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">kyoki har waqt teri yaadon mei khoya rahta hun,</span></div><br><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">fursat mei jab kuch likhne bethta hun,</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">toh har panne pe sirf tera zikr paata hun,</span></div><br><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3474999666214; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">jaan, ab toh teri awaaz sunne ko bhi taras jaata hun!</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></div></span><div style="font-family: Merriweather;"></div></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">THE END</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div></div></div><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/2015/01/love-poems-in-hindi-ab-toh-teri-awaaz.html#more">Continue Here »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-84183178177720445972014-10-05T12:16:00.001+05:302015-07-18T12:53:07.421+05:30Chetan Bhagat's Half Girlfriend is Full Nonsense! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Book" style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><span style="line-height: 20.7999992370605px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Book: Half Girlfriend</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><span style="line-height: 20.7999992370605px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Author: Chetan Bhagat, <i>best selling Indian author</i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><span style="line-height: 20.7999992370605px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Language: English</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><span style="line-height: 20.7999992370605px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></span></div><div style="color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.3;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></div><div style="color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.3;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></div><div style="color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.3;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></div><div style="color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.3;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">spoilers ahead…</span></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b id="docs-internal-guid-2609dc4f-df07-394d-f82f-2e4db22b604f" style="font-weight: normal;"><br></b></div><div dir="ltr" style="color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.3; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had to read it. <span itemprop="author" itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Person"><span itemprop="name">Chetan Bhagat</span></span>, as the people who read books only while travelling in trains believe, is one of the best Indian writers. And it had been too long. 2 States was the last book I read of a </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Best-selling Indian Author.</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br></b></div><div dir="ltr" style="color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.3; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, I sat with a highlighter and opened the first page of the brand new Chetan Bhagat book,<span itemprop="name"> Half Girlfriend </span>which had a few seconds teaser when the book was announced. A really really stupid teaser. </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eQq8Jy8ettQ" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Link for the lazy</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br></b></div><h1 dir="ltr" style="color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.3; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Premise and Plot</span></h1><div dir="ltr" style="color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br></b></div><div dir="ltr" style="color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.3; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The book starts with Bhagat being stalked by a guy in his hotel in Patna. Bhagat tries to shrug him off but he’s very persistent and he carries a torn notebook with him. He wants Bhagat to read it, because he thinks a busy writer like Bhagat has nothing else on his schedule. After a while, when he’s not able to convince Bhagat to read the notes, he plays the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">death </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">card and tells him these are his girlfriend’s notes who died some time ago. This troubles Bhagat greatly as he states, ‘</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">you can’t pick up a chocolate when someone has just mentioned a death’. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I know if it’s not someone close, death is merely a statistic. But surely, Bhagat can say it in a way so as to not appear as an unsympathetic idiot. </span></div></div></div><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/2014/10/chetan-bhagats-latest-book-half-girlfriend-review.html#more">Continue Here »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com53tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-51739164679300532642014-09-20T19:48:00.000+05:302014-09-26T18:47:32.279+05:30A Drive With No Destination!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.5599994659424px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m on the passenger seat. The highway is dark and foggy. Our flight landed an hour ago and we were greeted with the sudden chill of Delhi’s winter. They told us it was going to be cold, but I didn’t know they meant we would be cracking our jaw. There is no stop to this. Madness. We are enroute Jaipur. It will take us this entire night to reach. I’m sitting on the front seat and when I look out of the glass, there’s nothing else but this darkness fighting with our Innova’s headlights. I’m scared the Innova would surrender and we’d be stuck in this eternal darkness. It’ll embrace us from everywhere. A big dark blanket and nothing will matter ever again.</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m driving. Rain has paused. I hate driving during the rains. Those torrential downpours. The wipers of my i20 could have been manufactured with more love. They give up on wiping pretty easily. There’s no fight in them. I keep on flicking my headlights stick to ensure people driving alongside me know I am scared. I am really really scared. Rain finally stops and the world is beautiful and calm and pure again. I get out of my car. I think, the people who invented slow motion cameras were inspired by scenes after rain. The world sort of slows down. People folding their umbrellas, wiping their foreheads and spectacles, birds making their music, animals shaking their body to get into the groove, tree leafs holding on to those smallest of water droplets and there’s laughter somewhere, you can hear it, kids, some kids are always there, swimming in the rain puddles. Kolkata streets are full of them, the kids and the puddles.</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div></div></div><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/2014/09/a-drive-with-no-destination-ode-to-driving.html#more">Continue Here »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-9618642081977013202014-09-11T20:13:00.001+05:302014-09-26T18:28:42.141+05:30Book Review: Thoughts on John Green's Work!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If you stalk people on Whatsapp, there's a huge chance you've come across this author, John Green. The blue and white ‘okay, okay’ written in clouds display picture? Yeah, that one. The guy basically wrote the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">best book ever written, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">'The Fault in Our Stars', a book most now claim to have read because they've seen the movie.</span></div><b id="docs-internal-guid-7bd7e0b3-948a-7a91-03b1-448b8486b25e" style="font-weight: normal;"><br></b><br><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This book has gotten so famous that now people have started disliking it. '</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Oh! it's really boring and a little slow, brah!'</span></div><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br></b><br><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I read this book a while back because-</span></div><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br></b><br><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">a) I had never heard of it</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">b) my friends had not heard of it.</span><br><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Seriously, that makes a lot of difference. Tell someone you've read 'The Fault in Our Stars', they will think you're a hobbyist reader or tell them you've read the <span id="_inLanguage4" itemprop="inLanguage"> English </span> version of '</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bajo la misma estrella' and they'll be like 'oh, look, we've got a freaking scholar here.’ </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It just makes so much difference, in spite of the fact that both the titles mentioned are translations of the same book. Just the name and Shakespeare was asking what’s in the name?</span></div><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br></b><br><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Anyway, enough of trying to be funny here.</span></div><b style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br></div></div><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/2014/09/thoughts-on-john-greens-books-fault-in-our-stars.html#more">Continue Here »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-54653235992040677032014-08-12T21:39:00.001+05:302014-09-26T18:47:48.102+05:30And they marched on, the new freedom fighters!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">His room was empty. Empty in the sense that there was nobody else in his room, except him of course. How would he know otherwise? One has to be in the room, to know who else is in the room. His laptop was also in the room but since the laptop doesn’t breathe oxygen and it doesn’t speak in the tongue we humans understand, we don’t count it in our decision making. So this non-living thing, the laptop was sitting on the bed with its screen lid open emitting a saffron and green. He was trying to choose which tiranga he’d put as his WhatsApp display picture. On the internet, he could only find the tiranga in one colour combination but he wasn’t satisfied. All his friends somehow had gotten customized tirangas. He took out his phone, opened WhatsApp and scrolled through the display pictures of all his friends. They had various shades of tiranga, some had it in red-blue-green, some in yellow-blue-orange, some in some other colour. He wanted to ask them how they got these unique tirangas. This one combination in particular was really nice but he didn’t know what colours they were. Midway in his text, he looked up who he was texting, he realized it was one of his girl friend. Because the 'everywhere tiranga' thing had now replaced the overly cute emo quotes, he couldn’t differentiate between boys and girls. Back in the day when things were normal, all the girls ever put were normal pictures while the boys obviously went for those overly cute emo pictures. When he understood the gravity of his actions and what this mistake could have costed him, his throat went dry, he felt as if all his courage had been sucked out and his fingers couldn’t type the remaining question. Internet wisdom had taught him he simply couldn’t ask a girl about colours. That’d open the encyclopedia of colours.</span><span style="color: red; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">This discussion he’d reserve for another day when he’d be all lonely and desperate for human companionship obviously after having tried talking to all the living and nonliving things around. In spite of the sudden distraction, his mind wandered back to the ever persistent question, how do I get myself a customized tiranga? He looked around his empty room only to find there was no one else in it, no one else who could help. He sighed. He literally sighed. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"><o:p></o:p></span><br><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br></div></div><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/2014/08/they-marched-on-new-freedom-fighters-story-vineet-digga.html#more">Continue Here »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-43773965975426671752014-07-07T20:14:00.002+05:302015-07-07T13:56:25.257+05:30I wish she had just cheated on me! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: #FDFDFD; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">It was late. The clock on my wall showed 11.00. I am not really a clock person, I don't keep time and I do cool things like that. But this clock was special, this was a gift from Ish, after our third official date. 'Because you're never on time, take this.' She gave me the clock she had in her room. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><br></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: #FDFDFD; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">It was late and she hadn't called yet. She had gone to this night-club tonight to celebrate one of her friend's birthday. I was invited.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">I didn't want to go. Lots of homework to do. And last night I and Ish had gotten into this huge fight and she said I was stupid and she wanted nothing to do with me. I decided to ignore her for some time.</span><span style="background: #FDFDFD; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"> </span><span style="background: #FDFDFD; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">I had to call home as well. My mom freaks out if I don't talk to her every once in a while. That is really sweet to be honest to have someone care for you without any pretense, but it also annoys me sometimes. It had been a week since I last spoke with her, the week that unfortunate incident happened. Ish had come over to my flat and was staying the night. Mom overheard her on the phone. Things got awkward because Mom didn't really anticipate a girl in my apartment singing love songs to me while making moaning sounds. I don't know. I sometimes fear she’s on the train already, to surprise me. I’d call her tonight to check up on that. About Ish’s staying in my apartment, </span><span style="background-color: #fdfdfd; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt;">before you start judging me, we have this ritual. When we'd argue, more often than not Ish would lose control and start with her fuck you’s and what an insecure little bitch I was. She’d tell me she was wasting her time with me. This all didn’t really feel nice and to be honest it hurt a lot in the beginning.</span><span style="background: #FDFDFD; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"> </span><span style="background: #FDFDFD; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">But as I began to understand her a little better, I realised she never meant all those things. She said them to have the upper hand in our fights. Also, after having her share of regret of saying those hurtful things, she'd come over to my place to stay the night. All forgiven in the morning, justifiably so. I was willing to let fights go, if I kept on getting some action. A healthy bargain never hurt anybody. I’d not deny if you asked me whether I provoked her at times to say those mean things. And because Ish lost control over what she spoke last night as well, I was waiting for her to come over.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: #FDFDFD; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"></span></div></div><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/2014/07/i-wish-she-had-just-cheated-on-me-vineet-digga-story.html#more">Continue Here »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-31256056358583799302014-02-01T20:03:00.001+05:302014-09-13T12:25:58.452+05:30When his parents died, he ceased to exist!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">He had what we generally term as chronic pain. His back ache had become a part of his new life. Whatever he did, wherever he was, he always talked about his back ache. It got repetitive after a while but no one really said him so. After all, both his parents had just died few weeks ago. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">He had a little sister, who he didn’t talk to at all, not even about his chronic ever-lasting back ache. She was 14. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">They lived in a two storied home with their relatives, father’s brother’s family. Uncle had been very kind to them, provided the whole upper floor for the two of them or I should say one of them, because he was never seen. They were concerned about him and the little girl, and it showed but it was tragic how he missed all of that. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">No one really knew when he was home and when he wasn’t. He walked like a shadow, quiet and cold, pale and white. His eyes seemed to be distant and forlorn; his shoulders seemed to carry the weight of the whole world. With his parents, his spirits had also left it seemed. He just talked about his back pain all the time. He kept on muttering it under his breath, ‘Oh! The pain! My back’, he’d say. His one hand was always massaging his back, although not really in any productive manner. His one hand was always there, while taking a bath, while eating, while smoking cigarettes. Cigarettes after cigarettes, cigarettes after cigarettes. Even after he left the room, the smell lingered. You could smell the poison that was reeking up his lungs, destroying it bits by bits every second. Whenever he said anything, you could see tiny puffs of smoke coming out of his mouth. His voice always choked and some words always got lost. But he kept repeating like a cassette gone bad, ‘Oh! The Pain! My back!’ She offered him help, she asked him if she wanted her to fix a doctor’s appointment, ‘now I can, I just have to ring up this number’ but he never replied, he never looked at his sister who claimed she could fix an appointment with the doctors now right from her phone.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></div></div><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/2014/02/sad-story-of-a-smoke-addict-and-his-family.html#more">Continue Here »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-32685361084729473482014-01-25T13:17:00.001+05:302015-07-18T13:22:22.403+05:30Xavotsav 2014- Annual Cultural Fest of St. Xavier's College!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">There are voices playing in my head, I can still hear them screaming, ‘where are the PR sheets?!’, ‘Inform all the reps for the time and venue change’, ‘I’ve sent my OC to collect the Events list’, ‘why haven’t the judges score sheet reached yet?’, 'this is not how it happens in St. Xavier's College!' ‘where are all the volunteers!’, ‘<i>Bhaiya, </i>give me some work!’ These voices are so distinct and so clear that I can picture the faces saying them, all the super pretty faces that I could’ve punched out of frustration. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">The desk is in total chaos, there are far too many people standing there without any idea of the work they have to do, asking, frowning, asking again and there are more people rushing in, asking for lists we haven’t made yet, asking for participants that haven’t arrived yet, asking for food that isn’t even our department, and asking us to shut the fuck up because we’re partial and we didn’t give them the slot they wanted, the slot that they so rightly <i>deserved!</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span></div></div><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/2014/01/xavotsav-2014-the-annual-cultural-fest-of-st-xaviers.html#more">Continue Here »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-59746511085739781652014-01-14T18:59:00.000+05:302014-09-13T12:25:40.268+05:30I quit smoking three times today!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Cigarette, the minute I mention it to someone, they go crazy. ‘You smoke?!!? That’s so stupid and irresponsible. How can you smoke?! You will die.’ Almost everyone says this same gibberish. There’s just too much negative publicity smoking gets. Everywhere you go you can see people giving you sermons about smoking and its dreadful results, ‘you’ll get cancer’, ‘you’re going to get killed’, ‘don’t stand in front of me and smoke, <i>I am the most pious person and I consume only the freshest oxygen and I drink water that comes directly from the Gangotari</i>’. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Smoking sure kills and I have no facts to prove otherwise, no motives as well. But you know what the deal is, rash driving kills, unhygienic food kills, stunts on bikes kill, being irresponsible kills, messing with the wrong people kills, drowning kills, crossing the road like a dimwit kills, <i>cancer</i> kills, sharks kill, a coconut falling on the head kills, heart attack kills, everything kills. We are all slowly and steadily decaying anyway. Soon, we will be set on pyres or cremated or just left out in the cold with nothing to look forward to in blissful peace and tranquility. We all are going to be there someday, maybe I, a smoker, would go some years ahead. But don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re doing something better with your life <b>just by not</b> smoking. I have seen people get drunk and create a ruckus and when I offer them a smoke, they refuse with that polite smile of their all-knowing self, ‘Vineet yaar, I don’t smoke, it’s not good for our health.’ Right! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span></span><br></div></div><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/2014/01/i-quit-smoking-three-times-today.html#more">Continue Here »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-51821243765173212522014-01-01T21:15:00.003+05:302014-09-13T12:18:05.303+05:30 Dhoom 3 Review: The Unintentional Funny<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><head> <title>Dhoom 3 Review: The Unintentional Funny </title> </head> <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">I've watched the movie in parts. I had to take stress breaks. I’ve written the review while watching the movie as well so it’s pretty abstract. It also contains spoilers but I don’t think that is going to hamper your movie watching experience in any way.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I highly recommend you read it once after watching the movie.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></span></div><h2 style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Summary of Dhoom 3 </span></span></h2><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;"></div><ul><li style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%; text-indent: -18pt;">Action scenes are comical and comical scenes are sad. They are still using the jokes based on Uday Copra’s weak English. Didn’t we have enough of that in the last two movies? Most of the stunts are lifted from Dhoom 2. Aamir just replaces Hrithik in every frame. At least, Hrithik could dance better. The action scenes that are new are so cringe worthy that you’d really have to be patient to not cry or sarcastic-clap. And why does the car that explodes has to land right ahead the spot where the wheelie stops so everyone is unscathed? I mean can we have something new in stunts dept. please?</span></li></ul></div></div></div><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/2014/01/dhoom-3-review-unintentional-funny.html#more">Continue Here »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-82925338119133843332013-12-18T15:13:00.000+05:302014-09-13T12:24:58.458+05:30 From a Junior Consultant at Cognito Consultancy- Christ University Fest Review!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;">My semester exams had gotten over a week ago and I was lazing around in my room when a friend sent me a text asking if I wanted a job in Bangalore. It was an out of the blue text to be really honest. He gave me some minor details about the job; he talked about the pay which seemed pretty decent and about the future prospects. We were supposed to work as Junior Consultants in a team of three at this big firm named Cognito. I was in. This was my first job. So, I cheerfully said yes. Travel arrangements were made.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We reached Bangalore on 13<sup>th</sup>December and since we were new to this city, the company sent a car for us. We lodged in a decent hotel near the Company Headquarters and were briefed about the day’s programme. There was not much to do that day, except a meet up of some sort in the evening. So far, so good. At around five, we were escorted to the Company Headquarters where we met the company’s representatives and other Junior Consultants. The Company had also organised a welcome ceremony, where it briefed us about the past of the company, how it built its reputation and things like that. After the three hour event in which only like two minutes were filled with boring speeches while the rest was pure entertainment, we were given our employee batches and two mentors were assigned to guide us in case we went missing in the huge HUGE Company building.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"></span></span></div></div><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/2013/12/christ-university-cognito-fest-review.html#more">Continue Here »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-86211673158229741882013-11-29T13:18:00.000+05:302014-09-26T18:42:14.800+05:30And the Liebster goes to...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It was a tense day, there were far too many people waiting for the results, me being one of them. Sitting nervously on my chair, I looked at my watch, this should be it, they would announce it anytime now. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The host got on the stage and began to speak- she was a beautiful girl probably in her twenties, but I could not notice anything, not her lovely voice as it filled the whole room with a certain spark or that half-smile, that seemed to hold back something, something mysterious. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I didn't know her personally, I had heard of her though, she lived somewhere in India where onions were sold there at Rs. 64 per Kg. That is something to go on with, isn't?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br>These awards sessions had some weird rules, the one who gets the award becomes the next presenter, when Sreesha received the award, I had made it a point to know her better, some sort bribing pre-preparations to bag the prestigious award for myself. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span><br></div></div><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/2013/11/and-liebster-goes-to.html#more">Continue Here »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-87360380312256567722013-11-16T16:59:00.000+05:302014-09-26T18:42:29.697+05:30That Perfect Straight Drive!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You know there are moments when the finality of something doesn't really hit you, like your little brain doesn't comprehend the possibility that whatever you are watching is actually happening. You keep on thinking like its some minor glitch and everything's gonna be fine in some time. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I saw his first poster when I was a kid, probably six years of age, I was in a small village in Rajasthan, my mother's family resided there, and we were having an ice-cream (<i>kulfi</i>) at this local shop. There it was hanging on the wall, a singular poster of a guy hitting a perfect straight drive. The wall was otherwise empty. The scene was a little odd to me and I asked my cousin who this guy was. I was told the name of this guy casually in a matter-of-fact tone, the name which I could read myself from that poster. I asked again who he really was, and he threw me a puzzled look saying, 'you call yourself a cricket fan, and you don't know him?'</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sachin Tendulkar. Where I learnt about cricket, this name was synonymous to cricket. I began watching because of him, like many others I know. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span><br></div></div><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/2013/11/perfect-straight-drive-sachin-tendulkar.html#more">Continue Here »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-88655477449804477792013-11-11T11:06:00.000+05:302014-09-26T18:48:01.803+05:30Two years- thousand page hits and some more lessons! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Hey! Yes, its been two years, today's my blog's second birthday. Amazing, isn't it? </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I would not say it feels like yesterday, because its been a long journey and I can recall almost everything, that it actually feels like I have been doing this forever. I can't even imagine my life properly before I started blogging, I mean, I feel like I have always been called thelostdigga, which is cool by the way, isn't? </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Before I start off and tell you what an amazing journey this has been, I'd like to say thank you, thank you for reading, thank you for promoting, and thank you for motivating. I have no shame in admitting once again that if it wasn't for the support I got, I would have quit blogging a long time back. So, again, thank you. I had almost forgotten, I have never acknowledged the people who got my facebook pages some likes, Geetika, Gaurav and Nikhil, I still won't. </i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When I wrote a post on the osLt's last birthday, I wrote about how futile celebrating birthday is, and <i>cool </i>stuff like that, then I turned 21 and realized its not that futile. Birthdays are cool if you have good people to celebrate it with. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span><br></div></div><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/2013/11/lessons-from-two-years-of-blogging.html#more">Continue Here »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-85963722647545834202013-10-27T21:38:00.003+05:302014-09-26T18:48:58.735+05:30You're in true love, so what?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;"><div style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://thelostdigga.blogspot.com/2013/05/a-story-on-couples-with-love-code-thats-how-we-live.html" style="color: #4c4c33; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Part I </a>| <a href="http://thelostdigga.blogspot.com/2013/10/good-marks-would-not-help-in-problems-story.html" target="_blank">Part II</a> |</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #282a2a;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>This is a story of two friends, who are more than friends, they are cousins. </i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #282a2a;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #282a2a; text-align: center;"><b style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"> Love Code Trilogy Part III</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #282a2a; text-align: center;"><b style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><br></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">As Rameshwar was unlocking the door to their apartment, Namrata pointed out, ‘our Swapnil is so much better than him. He always gets better marks in class and he never drives this slowly. We could have reached twenty minutes early’. She’d have said this even if she was alone, she had to say it to someone or something. ‘When would you realize that Swapnil’s marks would not have helped us today in the rain?’ Namrata nodded half listening. Her mind was thinking, ‘my Swapnil never roams around with girls like him.’ She clearly didn’t know where her son's hands were roaming at this precise moment.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><br></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">A car stopped in the driveway forty minutes after Rameshwar had changed into fresh clothes and thirty minutes after Swapnil had kissed Maaya goodnight, without a trace of the gentleman that his mother thought he was. Swapnil reached for the doorbell. <span style="color: #282a2a;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Footsteps were heard and in a few seconds the door was opened. Namrata looked a little tired as if she had run to open the door which was made pretty clear by her first statement, ‘Where were you, <i>Lalla? </i>I was so worried, why is your phone switched off? Is something wrong?’ The voice was filled with terror, she had been worried since her first comprehension of, ‘aapni je numbare..’ but didn’t like to show in front of her husband. ‘Jesus mom, I am fine. I am a grown-up boy. Stop worrying about me like this!’ Namrata sighed and went back to kitchen.</span><br></div></div><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/2013/10/you-are-in-true-love-so-what.html#more">Continue Here »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-36393134086522368052013-10-27T12:30:00.001+05:302014-07-26T20:20:28.977+05:30Good marks would not help in the rain!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><a href="http://thelostdigga.blogspot.com/2013/05/a-story-on-couples-with-love-code-thats-how-we-live.html" target="_blank">Part I </a>|</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Anti PS: you know it is a little pointless if you've not read the first part?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">This is a story of two people; a man and a woman. They are both grownups.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style="background-color: white; color: #282a2a; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"> Love Code Trilogy Part II</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“I told you to tell him in the morning, why did you not?” his voice had risen above the levels of what we believe constructs a normal conversation. He was screaming. What else would you expect a man, a forty five year old, short overweight man with a short neck and weak back. His spinal cord has had its share of problems over the years, which his father had as well. The connection was enough to make them believe it was hereditary and so the doctors would not help. Now, what else would you expect this man to be, if not angry, who is to helplessly stand on the street waving at every car that went by him for a lift. ‘<i>Bhai</i>, Abhinav would drop you if you want, you won’t get a cab in this area this late!’ He had refused the idea, his trust in Kolkata cabs and the idea that Abhinav had more important work than dropping them made his decision, a decision he was regretting now, as was made perfectly clear from his scream. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“I forgot, how many time do I tell you? I am sorry but it slipped off my mind. He would have been here if I had told him” she told her husband, genuinely scared of him, more so because she knew she was lying. Rain was falling heavily now and the street was deserted, apart from a few cars that passed by, without stopping or even slowing. Why do people driving do not realize that the walker-by do not really enjoy any of the mud shower, their tires generate due to high speeds. Why can’t they go slow?</span></div></div><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/2013/10/good-marks-would-not-help-in-problems-story.html#more">Continue Here »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-41754978086871478942013-10-01T11:10:00.002+05:302014-01-04T12:41:43.201+05:30and it still doesn't rhyme. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">alone,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">you're born,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">alone,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">you'll perish,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">is it not the sign,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">bhai, so that please resign,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">from all the earthly goals,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and all the poles,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">sometimes you do what you gotta do,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">to make it rhyme.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">the promises of forever,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">end the day after or earlier,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">is it not the hint,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">that even you're not here, forever,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">like all the promises,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and the people. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">sometimes you do what you gotta do,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and it still doesn't rhyme. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">is life supposed be all that?</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">rhyming with people, </span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and adjusting with ideas,<br />sacrificing your own, in the process,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">or is it something more,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">that we will know, </span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">someday, that's not today. </span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-60447890133484200942013-09-25T23:59:00.001+05:302014-01-04T12:41:43.213+05:30before someone says.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">there's this one person,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">you know,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">i have in my life,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">you might have her as well,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">or someone like her,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">the one, </span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">who has something very special</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">in her, that she does not know</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">herself, by the way,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">a special superpower,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">to hurt, kill and crucify,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">with her words, actions and silence,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">the one,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">who without doing anything, </span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">can fuck around with your head,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">in her own special way.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and then she smiles, </span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">like its all okay </span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">well, she just doesn't know.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">lets all remember that person,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">on this special day,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">as we fools bid good bye to each other,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and go to sleep, </span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">before someone says,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">'you all deserve better!' </span><br /><div><br /></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-2039023292961133172013-09-25T23:30:00.000+05:302013-09-27T01:28:16.772+05:30Ache Sapne!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">shaame rangeen,</span></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">khwabo se bhari,</span></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">udaasi ka saaya,</span></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">kahin dekhne ko na tha,</span></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">par sab khusiya pal bhar ki hi,</span></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">kahaani hi yahi ye mere jeevan ki,</span></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">shaame ab suhaani</span></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">na rahi, na dekhe phir kabhi wese sapne, </span></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">udaasi ka manjar jaane ko na tha,</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><b id="docs-internal-guid-2e1214f4-5644-7509-e0cb-1562d4632073" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></b></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">subah kai sapne sach hote hai,</span></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">raato kai sapne nahi,</span></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">par</span></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">kisi ne na bataya tha,</span></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">shaam ko dekhi wo haqeeqat,</span></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">sab sapno se darawni saabit hogi. </span></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">saala, aankhe band kiye dekhe, </span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">wo sapne hi ache hote hai. </span></div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-43384837427400096992013-09-25T23:09:00.000+05:302013-09-25T23:09:21.639+05:30Tumhara Apna!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">wo shaam yaad hai?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">jab mene tumhe bataya tha,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">mere khud se kiye un waado kai baare mei,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">'chahe kuch ho jaaye, khudko khush rakhna hai' </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">mene kaha tha</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">par wo waade, </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">mere tode bina bhi tut jayenge,</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">ye tumhe shayad batana hi bhul gaya</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">meri hi galti hai,</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">pata hota yadi tumhe,</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">tab tum dhyan rakhte,</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">bas dil hi tutne dete, waade nahi, </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">par chalo, tum toh khush ho, </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">wahi filhaal kaafi hai!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">tumhara, jo tha kabhi, apna.</span></span></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-56312571990445469272013-09-14T22:28:00.000+05:302013-12-18T09:58:54.609+05:30 An Application to the Lawmakers of this Country!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">To,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Candara","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The Lawmakers, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Candara","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Where there’re no hardships,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Candara","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">India</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Candara","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Candara","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Subject:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Candara","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Enquiry related to the delivery of <i>the</i>gift when I turned eighteen.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in;"><span style="font-family: "Candara","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Candara","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Respected <b>Sirs</b>, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Candara","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Candara","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I would like to bring to your notice that I have still not received my gift for the eighteenth birthday that you <i>supposedly</i> send to everyone <i>the night they turn eighteen</i>. I have made all the related enquiries; I have asked my parents if they found it and hid it/lost it/re-gifted it, I have asked my elder brother if he has taken mine thinking it was his (he will send you the same application once you reply to this), and I have made an investigation with the Post Office as well, but to no avail. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Candara","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Candara","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The saddest part of it is we have no idea how this package is supposed to look and what its content are going to be. My niece, who is going to turn fourteen in fifteen days, made me believe with all her cute looks and sweet voice that I am a reckless fellow, and I might have lost the present. She makes sense you know? She is the one who gave me the idea to write this letter to you, she’s more scared than I am with the way <i>things</i> are going. <i>She is so mature for her age, that I sometimes wonder if she has taken it herself.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i><br></i></span></span><span style="font-family: "Candara","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i></i></span></div></div><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/2013/09/an-application-to-lawmakers-of-this-country-India.html#more">Continue Here »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-82432565373423056292013-09-08T21:40:00.000+05:302013-09-11T12:37:48.382+05:30 When I created something that was never created, ever.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;">You get up in the middle of the night, sweat is all over your body, you wake up with this idea, the idea that changes everything, the idea that’s too perfect, it seems like it has no flaw, it’s your big idea that changes your world. You promise yourself you’d write the whole thing tomorrow. Your heart tells you to write this thought somewhere, maybe record it in your little pad by the bed on the table, or the app you use for maintaining your todo lists, in case you were to forget. But you are half asleep and your senses half shut so your brain is able to convince you to go back to sleep, faking this sense which leads you to believe you’ll retain everything that’s on your mind right now. You’ll retain it till tomorrow and maybe some more. You retort back to sleep. Pleasant dreams. Fairytales. Childhood. All these scenes, beauty rich, hovered over your mind and you paid no heed. ‘I will remember all this, the lines that I have crafted, the words I have created.’ Alas!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;">You wake up. You do your normal work and its weeks now since you’ve written something. There’s no new idea. You search for words. You read books. You watch movies. You look around and observe. But there’s nothing at all. Your brain seems to have lost its focus. And you start wondering if everything you did was a fluke. Or if you were a fluke. You start believing this idea now and unlike the last one, this one just doesn’t get out of your head. It stays there making you doubt everything you’ve done. You begin to give up. You read the messages, the stories that you have written, you read the compliments that your readers sent you, and you try to analyze whether you can trust the compliments or the readers themselves, ‘oh, she was just being sweet!’, ‘but he’s too stupid, if he thinks its good, then its actually bad!’</span><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br></div></div></div></div><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/2013/09/when-i-created-something-that-was-never.html#more">Continue Here »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2275406070828890195.post-8851654361433580012013-08-28T20:56:00.000+05:302014-09-13T12:19:08.297+05:30I am Lord Krishna, my biggest misconception as a child.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;">I was around 8 years old and I had watched way too many superhero movies, cartoons and Lord Krishna episodes. I was having a tough time not finding the normal life mundane and boring. While growing up, one notion constantly played around in my head, I thought I was like those superheroes, those caped crusaders fighting evil for humanity and I was destined to greatness. And perhaps because of this notion, I couldn't connect to normal characters on TV, I would just see them and think, 'he can't fly, so boring'. While the superheroes continued to grip me, I could connect with them, I could relate to their hardships and pains, they felt to me like my distant relatives, <i>the good ones</i>.<i> <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;">There was one particular guy, Karma. His story was fascinating. This guy got his true potential only when he turned 18. He was pretty much normal before (like my <i>friends and bad cousins</i>). I liked him because he gave me hopes and he gave me excuses, ‘see Vineet, you’re exactly like this superhero, you’ll get your powers when you’re 18. Stay quiet till then!’<o:p></o:p></span></div><u1:p></u1:p> <br><div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br></div><div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Candara, sans-serif;">But childhood is not just a joy ride full of excitement and happiness. I like to believe I was an introvert of sorts, and during my free time, I used to think about what powers I’d have and what I’d do with them. I remember getting nervous when there were unknown people around. Or known ones. In school, I can’t recall a day that passed by without anyone making fun of me. Most of the times, my dark skin tone was mentioned as some sort of a defect and laughed upon. It's hard to understand now, why it was done and why it hurt. They teased me and called me names. In turn, I made fun of other kids, laughed at their overgrown belly or girly voice. Kids just do that.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;"><br></div></div></div><a href="http://www.thelostdigga.in/2013/08/i-am-krishna-my-misconception-as-a-kid.html#more">Continue Here »</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07262593596411426379noreply@blogger.com0