Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Silly Old Crush

I feel nervous again,
Like the to be bride with shaking cup of tea,
Like the girl after her first kiss.
Like the speaker who fumbles meeting a Giant orator,
Like an office boy before the big boss.

I the sudden forgetting a little gramor I knew - funny!

My heart dances in joy of discovery;
And the mind suffers from sudden decay.

I know no ego and no shame.
I just know I loved you then.
I adore you now even more and
Still, Still I wait for thee
But you have to know everything comes with an expiry date!

And it's darn funny!

Sunday, November 4, 2012

Cozy Mornings

Dreamer that I’m :
I think of the things that give me pleasure -
Pleasure of thoughts.

I think of the one who gives me thoughts-
Thoughts which have the luxury of languor*.
Thoughts absorbed in the fragrance -
Fragrance that my hair have,
Fragrance that my skin has,
Some of which, which my warm quilt has -
Some of which was consumed amorously between us.
Sensuous strands of which still lay trapped in the fiber.
Fiber of the silk that arouses the subconscious.
Subconsciousness that becomes sublime.
I live those moments again.
Beautiful already,further catapulted by imagination.

Be-wilderness has the same fragrance-
Fragrance of warmth and consummation.

Closeness that begets intimacy.
Intimacy sans thoughts.
And that’s when I struggle -
Becoming thoughtless.

Fatally thoughtless in the morning for everything else.
I snooze my alarm several times.
I dig deeper in my quilt.
I lie idle, late for my Punch In at the office.
My boss excuses me,for peccadilloes* -
Peccadilloes such are universal-
For he/she also once has been me,
Or who knows, is still like me.

This color which is pink and lovely on my blushing face.
This color that gives me the morning glow.
This color that's better than the one given by fruit face wash.
This color that's softer than the Dove Skin Care Kit.
This color which is much like our kiss.

This color I want not to wash away.
Wash away with tears of separation.
Separation that torments, even at the thought of it.

Amused, confused,I shrug it off -
Thoughtlessness which is so dear.
Thoughtlessness which may be just deceiving.
Everything else that may fill my serene world more -
IF and when love leaves for a shore far away.
Like Tennyson, at some unknown clarion call.

I’m no Alice.
I’m no Cinderella.
I belong to this world.
With love, without love,
I gear, gear up for work.
Even as I long long for the long cosy crazy mornings.

Vocab Check -
languor - Laziness
Peccadilloes - Professional Errors

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

On turning 28

On turning 13.
Thrilled to be a teen.
I mentally browsed my diary.
I wanted to find one thing,
That makes me unique.

I could not find any.
I recollected number of paintings I made.
I wanted to register one as a masterpiece.
I could not register any.
I had heard a lot about teens.
I quixotically resolved-
I will be a responsible one.

I meditated – Fun is not yet for me.
I looked forward to be 14 & prove my worth.

On turning 14,
I counted how many prizes I have won at school.
Prizes were many,
Yet not a single one I could keep for my life.

I looked forward to be 15 & prove my worth.

On turning 16, I read Milton’s On His Blindness and found recluse –
Hence for years I waited.

I found myself stuck in the cobweb of expectations.
The greatest expectation came from myself.

I now ruminate and see how beautiful those days were too.
How I struggled to find a reason to celebrate.

Today I turned 28.
Somehow, I feel I have every reason to contemplate –
What a bugger I have been -
Waiting for Happiness...
Like the tramps in the Samuel Beckett’s play.

Nothing has changed.
My masterpieces in writing and painting are still due.
I am not a Bharat Ratna recipient.
I am not sure if I can ever get a Nobel.
This makes me chuckle.

Today again, recollecting the famous movie Guide's song
With Vaida Rehman dancing on the roof top
I feel filmy yet realistic.

I feel like a bird -Independent,
Liberated from the shackles of expectations-
Free to think -
Free to move -
Completely enjoying the gift of Simple Thinking.

All I wish is a short simple life.
Honesty be my ornament
Creativity as my best friend….
Freedom to think and act wise,
Wisdom to be free…
And yes, I kept counting my material accolades.
This year when I made my FB Birthday public –
I saw I have so many reasons to smile.

Friends who cared to stop by –
Friends who wished me today,
Friends who remember me-
I want to be there for them, in the best way I could be.
Thank you so much for your so loving attention.
You made me feel special.

Monday, October 15, 2012


Vo khud se bechain tha
Per meri bechaini ki dawa sa tha
Duniya se gussaya,khafa sa tha
Per mere har sawal ka galat-sahi lekin jawab tha vo
Uski cheekh me shor nahi tha
Mere chillanne per bhi shant tha vo
Vo khudgarz tha, nashe me tha, deewana tha
Aur mujhe uski aadat thi

Bewkuf, pagalaya sa tha vo
Per jaisa bhi tha mere bahut kareeb,
Mera hamsaya tha vo

Mujhe bhanak to thi-
Ki mera gurur jhoota tha
Par itna ajeeb lagega socha na tha

Aaj vo gum ho gaya hai
Aise lagta hai mujhe jaise power cut hai
Phone hai par balance nahi
Laptop hai, per internet nahi
Sab ruk gaya hai
Calendar to fir bhi aage badh gaya hai
Bheed me ab bhi vo dikhta hai
Tanhai me chubta hai

Kabhi naram bistar sa tha jo
Aaaj vahi khatmal ho haya hai

Monday, October 8, 2012

auto phobia

Until it became necessary for my work to use lifts,
I was claustrophobic.
Until he made it necessary for me to use my loneliness
I was auto phobic.
Phobias are mere figment of imagination.
When necessity intervenes,
We realize how we can overcome fear so effortlessly.
Some fears are sweet
Some are sour
Some come true
Some get a bamboo.
Some animals are tamed at home.
Some go to zoo.
Some settle down,
Some become Yahoo.
Phobias get customized.
They are better lived.
Lift made my life easier.
Being self-dependent is making things simpler.

Thursday, September 20, 2012


As the temperatures dips,
It gets cold in India
It is September mid,
It has not stopped raining yet.
The winter has arrived.
With love around me,
This weather is blissful.
And without any right on my love -
O God,it is dark!
It is frightening bold.
Wish the serpent feeling of jealousy ;
The wound that my heart suffers;
The pessimism that shrouds* me;
And the better future which dodges* my perception;
The solitude which when affected by decrepitude questions me;
Logic that torments my mind;
Ignorance which instigates insomnia;
Apprehensions which defy my strength
All this with those horrible threatening horoscope readings
Put my self respect and my weird love to test.
Love defines my life
And happiness underlines every act.
Just that my time machine rusted somewhere.
And I am stuck in this love ridden moment of despair*.
Happiness says –
Cheer up girl –
For you, I am always there:)

Vocab Check -
Shrouds - Covers
Dodges -tricks
Despair - sorrow

Monday, September 10, 2012

Known Stranger

People around me talk about professionalism.
People around me talk about optimism.
A few adorably empathize,
A few innocently sympathize.
I love them all.

Yet I love the part of my grieving heart.
It makes me protean* &
My voice is deep & warm.
The expression on my face is genuine.
I carry out my daily tasks with unchanged proficiency.

Yet, the day starts with his memories.
The day ends with his memories.
The nights are spent in his memories.
I have him everywhere around me.
His sane jokes, his cute stammer, his polite arrogance,
His sweet ego, his lovable imperfections, his kindness,
His love & his filmy dialogues,
His gifts & his soul,
I have him so much around me.

Somethings have changed since we have seperated
by a shuffle of events -

Today we are indifferent to each other.
His jokes are full of sarcasm & contempt,
His stammer has anger & his arrogance has hatred,
His ego is destructive; his imperfections are death like,
His inclemency* is inflexible; his love is invisible;
His dialogues have villainy.
And so have I changed for him in many ways.

But his soul still talks to me.
And that is how, it is not that easy.

How long & how far will I escape the whisper?
His soul changes form –
Sometimes it is my laptop,
Sometimes, it is my mirror,
Sometimes, it is I, myself.
He is a known stranger today.
Yet, his soul that lives with me is loved & cared so much.
I have no idea how he deals with my soul around him.

I live happy.
I live happy even as I hate & love this known stranger.

protean* - layered with depth
inclemency* - mercilessness

Monday, September 3, 2012

A few inane* thoughts on Crying : Look who is crying !!

When a child is born –
People eagerly wait for it to cry.
When we think we are hurt, we cry.

Who enjoys it?
Probably, the audience at the birth of a child does.
Probably, an actor crying on the stage –
While enjoying the audience’s response does.
Probably the naughty kid with crocodile tears for a chocolate does.
A vicious person without shame for sympathy favors does.

Who loves crying in a soliloquy* of a private moment?
Nobody does.
It is too much an effort.
It chokes us.

It may embarrass us, if caught by someone accidentally.
When tears pass our cheeks,
They may soil our bed sheet!!!!

Moreover, if we have asthma,
Then we would gasp for so long during and afterwards.
At times, we catch sore throat and cough.
We may have to run for a handkerchief.
We get irritated by running nose.

Imagine brides who think of their make up!

Crying in public means -
Having to deal with lots of loud or silent questions.

We get mentally and physically so tired,
As the diaphragm, the lungs, the chest all exert.
We may sleep instantly cancelling all our other plans.
We wake up with puffy eyes.

Have you ever looked at crying yourself in the mirror?
Bet you said - O god, it is I!
We’d better invest our energies in an acting career instead!!!!

Vocab Check :Inane - silly; soliloquy - self talk

Saturday, September 1, 2012

Redolent * Memories

Foreword : It is just a poem. As an actor, I imagine and compose. And of course recollections do help and a few friends who share their experiences help me enlarge my poetic kaleidoscope* :)


Aaj jab galati se
Mere haath mere gaalo ko chute hai,
Unke mulayam sparsh ko mehsus karte hai-
To fir tumhari yaad aati hai.
Aur tumhari masum mohbbat se mohabbat ho jati hai.

Meri nigahe, mere lachile badan per jab padti hai,
To bus tumhari hi shayari yaad aati hai,
Aur tumhari lalach se bhari un ankhone ko tarasti hu.
Aur us pyar bhare sparsh ko fir se mehsoos mai karti hu,

Jab kabhi zyada khubsurat aaine me nazar aati hu,
To fir tumhari masum mohabbat se mohbbat ho jati hai.

Tumhare na hone ka bhi ek meetha sa ahsaas hai.
Is meethas ke mere jeevan me bharne me
Tumhara hi tumhara haath hai

In yaadon ki khushboo me
Mehsoos hota fir tumhara saath hai.
Tum nahi to kya,
Tumhari di hui khushboo mere saath hai.

Aaj jab vaidhavya viyog* ke geet likhti hu,
To maayoos nahi,
Khush khush se me jeeti hu.
Aur fir tumhari masoom mohabbat se mohabbat ho jati hai.

Bolo,kaun kehta hai,
Ki me akeli hu...
Yeh khusboo tumhari mohabbat ki,
Kab mera peecha chodti hai.

PS: Vocabulary Check -
1) A kaleidoscope is a cylinder with mirrors containing loose, colored objects such as beads or pebbles and bits of glass.
2) Redolent - Fragrant
3) Vaidhavya Viyog - Widow separated from her husband on his death


Waiting for the train delayed,
In the face paced life –
I think of retreat*.
I go back to the memories,
Of a time –
A time which was carefree,
I would not have to count how many minutes.
I'd only know,
My parents are around,
And everything would be just so joyous.
The wait was worth,
The tea served on the platform was worthy too.
I did not have fear from people around.
I was inquisitive* of life so mysterious & fun.
I go back to my childhood.
And in the thoughts so deep.
When I do not sleep -
I live that time again.
I think of it,
Then soon pretend -
That I am a child again –
All my worries are drained.
As I wait for the train.

Try living your childhood,
When life is most constrained* :)

Vocab Check : 1) Refrain - Repetition (here)
2) Retreat - Return
3) Inquisitive - Curious
4) Constrained - Restricted

Friday, August 24, 2012

Mannat Ka Dhaaga

WE, THE PEOPLE OF INDIA, having solemnly resolved to constitute India into a SOVEREIGN SOCIALIST SECULAR DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC and to secure to all its citizens…

I am not making a personal statement if I reiterate that the recent upheaval in Assam was not that of a religious nature.We all  witnessed the aftermath of an invidious misrepresentation and a  mass level misunderstanding ; especially by we, I mean - the larger drowsy India who wondered askance, when suddenly at midnight, the bulk SMS system got sabotaged. Such events are bound to make us stop and think for a while.No wonder, GOI still unites us under one order, just as it used to during the British Raj.

Such thoughts may as well , push us back to school textbooks . A few of you like me may have read about secularism as an idealist. Remember when we first  read an essay on Sarvdharm Samudaya Mandir (All Religion Community Temple) in  a Hindi text book, we inadvertently endorsed our first streak of secularism. Half of us may not even picture it as vividly as a few of us without  a special effort to recall reading about Akbar's Din-E-Elahi and the reasons - why Sikhism was found, the preaching of Sufi saints and Kabir and thus, Moinuddin Chisti in spirit and deed.

Do you remember visiting Ajmer? Have you heard about it? Are you planning a trip?
I intend to share with you my account of experience, just in the spirit of sharing. You may laugh, frown or wonder what makes me share such a tedious account , or may switch to the sub title that interests you the most. Do tell me how much do you like me for this circumlocution ;)...

Here it is -

The child in me desires a trip : Visiting Ajmer Shareef Dargah may have never crossed my mind until my first Phone Boy Friend mentioned it to me when I was all about 18. I did not find it weird let alone be flirtatious. It was very romantic to hear that. Then after five years, I heard about the famous Katrina Kaif’s much talked about visit in a skirt. Two years later, this May another close friend phoned me on a fine morning and persuaded me to accompany her to the much-revered place. We could not make it together since I had a then very special friend visiting India, who would want all my time and attention. I politely postponed my visit. Finally, the day happened in August. Ankita got busy and I had an urgent uncalled mental turmoil to clean up that compelled me to find solace at religious places  After taking permission from  sweetheart Ankita, I asked Sumit, another very kind  friend to escort me.

Just two days before my visit, I was pleasantly surprised to read about USD 1 million reaching Ajmer Shareef Dargah as a gift by Pakistan President Asif Ali Zardari. It got me real curious for obvious reasons. I was further entertained to read about the expected reasons of delay in the donation. But I was bitterly surprised by the fact that the Anjumans entered into a tiff over the donation money being divided and utilized. Anyway, this news only catapulted my imagination further.

 A day later, I wanted to decide my ethnic wear for the day, so I used google. I would not say I got star dust in my eyes when I saw pictures of Katrina in black, Priyanka Chopra in white, Sharukh in white, Ajay Devgan, Amitabh Bachchan in white; pictures of Manisha Lamba, Ashmit Patel, Himesh Reshammiya. Emaran Hashmi, PM Manmohan Singh visiting the Dargah but surely I thought it seems to be a special place. Every friend I talked to about it, took its name with great respect.

I read about Moinuddin Chisti and his philosophy of simple living, high thinking and communal harmony to have real reasons to respect and feel the real excitement about my visit.

@ Ajmer station : After an interesting journey of eight hours by Porbandar Express,we reached Ajmer. A swarm of auto drivers buzzed around us. We paid a modest thirty bucks for a kilometer of roller coaster ride through the narrow and highly crowded streets of Ajmer. It reminded me of Chandni Chowk. And the fact that such a famous tourist place of attraction is so un-kept reminded me of Agra, the epitome of worst use of legacy of a monument as a place of international tourist interest as far as I know. Using the hustle bustle as a pretext, the driver tried his best to coax us to book a hotel he knew. He said that the Dargah is very crowded today. It will take long. He suggested us to stay at a hotel, rest and then come back next morning.  We deferred and continued walking. I savored the first kulfi I saw on the road. Believe me, it does not taste like the one they sell at Chandni Chowk. On both sides of the road, the decoration was meretricious. From small jewelry items to all sorts of toys and accessories - it had everything that once can expect from a country fare.We were here post Urs festival. Hence, we, were sure to miss out on the six day long procession and Bhadhaawa which is a recitation accompanied by only clapping. We bought our share of offering from a shop which deposited our bags and shoes.

@ The Dargah : Hardly a five minute walk, from the auto and we stood right there - entering the Dargah. Thank you driver for the hotel stay suggestion!  The whole event looked so ordinary and lackluster to me that I stopped for a while to enquire: Is this The Place? The Dargah staff in a matter of minutes rushed us inside. We were voraciously greeted by two men who gently patted on Sumit’s back - forced us, to give into to a man, - who without wasting any second asked Sumit-his name and signed a receipt in his name saying prayers on our behalf. Vow! That was gratuitous! Such invitations were repeated by everybody who looked at us with a smile and we a little in hesitation, in fear, in contempt and in the praise of capitalist nerve of religiosity ignored and kept moving ahead. We could hear such staff-dictating people to cover head, to be in the barely visible line as if more than discipline seekers, they were mere attention seekers with each a pen and a receipt book in hand.( I mean no harm or insult to anyone with a special mission from the God Almighty!)

Inside the main Dargah : As I stepped into, I was nostalgic about Vaishno Devi trip of 10 years ago. On entering the door, I could hardly see who I am bowing down to. I could only figure out later that it was a very small stone idol among the various images of goddess, which are sold outside, at the exit zone. So, this time around, I made sure to check in advance – what to expect. Finally, we grow up ha ha! As we moved inside, we saw the staff tying a religious thread on the wrists of people who were trapped unalarmed and in the same moment were readily and, authoritatively asked to pay for that. Whoops! We squeezed and  successfully managed to sneak out, just in time. He he. The Dargah opened into a marbled premise with Patterns on the windows and walls, where women tied Mannat ka dhaga.  I saw a man weeping in penance at one corner and another woman weeping out loud with open hair, rotating her head and requesting a son to compete her husband’s mistress. Although I naively laughed out loud in the middle of premises at this moment while Sumit looked grim and somber, I have my deepest respect for the free flowing plain and innocent human emotions. Further, I cannot explain this part. It takes a heart, knowledge and a little more as a writer to talk about such scenes.

In the exit area, there was a small water tank, where people sprinkled the holy water on them and tried their best to ignore the religious beggars asking for money for use of the tank water. There was a huge deep pot at a height of a few steps. People were peeping inside with curiosity. As I went closer, I found – it was a pot of charity called Bagi Deg filled with mainly coins. I wondered whether they kept the USD 1 million they recently received!!!

Post Dargah Visit : All this, we could accomplish in just 15 minutes! It was 5.30 and we were out to explore the banal looking Ajmer! Our train was scheduled for 2.30 a.m. and it appeared not before 4.10a.m. We walked around to find a hygienic place to eat. Call it our ignorance, our impatience or a lack of tourist sense and spirit of us and the city - we stayed at Dominos for 5 hours and rest 6 hours on the station playing  a dozen matches of Chess. Since Sumit may also read it. So I would not really tell who won most of them! 

Note: Better go there by car or have more than one place to visit on your list when you visit Ajmer! It is important to remember that there is no good cinema hall within 3 kms and Dominos may just be out of stalk for that destined day without a cold drink or say a regular size pizza. You may expect waifs and strays at the railways station who are high on Marijuana! Finally, offer your prayers and look for spiritual pleasure within

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

'It might have been'

For all sad words of tongue and pen, The saddest are these, 'It might have been'. ...

As an English Language Teacher, I make it a point that when I teach past tense, I tell my students that learning from the past is important. Nevertheless, living in the past is fatal.

If Alexander lived in the glory of his first accomplishment, would he conquer so much of the world? If King Bruce lived with the failures of his past, would he move on?
 If Gandhi gave up when he was first humiliated in South Africa, would he rose to become the talk of history? It is another thing, that there is controversy hovering around each one of them,especially posthumously.When has fame not invited envy?

 Well, we quote famous names or names of people who are revered as great because we think we can save time telling their stories to the person who probably needs a better account of what he/she should do in the times of delusion. Not that, we want this person to act great or aspire to be great, but that we out of affection, care and love want him/her to get an insight into the misery. At the outset, misery clouds our clear thinking.

Who is not affected by bouts of irrationality, anger, frustration and such vices? Perhaps,that is the reason why S.M Taylor theory of rational man was debated so much. We all are humans. We all are mortals. We die. We make mistakes. We all do. Not a single person on this Earth is spared. That is why at times, we understand them from the perspective of John Gray  - Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus.

I like the balcony of my room. My room has two large windows and a door. I keep the three usually open. Though I keep it curtained until a few guys living opposite my house play Padosan on weekends. ( A kitten sneaks into my room every once in a while. It soils my bed and runs away. I have never that much liked cats for a given phobia. However, I would not turn into a maniac and kill it. I simply shoo it away, close the windows and clean my room ,when it happens. Will I shut the window and doors of hope and light for ever for the fear of past? I mean cat here.

My point is, it is not fair to live in the past. We do not deserve to live in the past. I remember a few of my friends calling me after their happy hours. They would often come up with stories like – She and I could not be united? I could not improve my business because my parents were not supportive. I do not have anybody to take care of me. Indeed, to be honest, I have myself lived in such moments of pessimism. But I am happy for those who could stop after a while and come out strong and declare – Well, that was past. I realized that I was wrong. I was weak. But no more. I will not switch on my I pod, laptop or play music which is sad because I can live my past in it. But just to appreciate the human emotion and be kind to those who would need me in their moments of weakness.

Phew! Imagine, if your boss got stuck with you for just one mistake! Similarly, in relationships, why do we have to bring up the past? Why cannot we have the desire to work out? Why do we use boring words like compromise? Moving on with a better approach is wise and not a compromise.

I know a few people who are opsimath. I know a few people who learn only by stick. I know a few people who never learn a better way and die in oblivion, contempt or regret. I know a few people who live with the past. Now, I know someone who says he chose to live with the past then with his love.
I am in a fix to help the above-mentioned category. I appreciate the late learners. I pity the second category. I simply ignore the third group. I sympathize with the fourth. I can hardly believe the last. I think, he is just making an excuse. All that he need is some break and he'd better grow up. If it is not so, then I care less to know more.

If life were to be lived in past, we would not have had the present of Present. If Usain Bolt took critism of being called laid back and relaxed seriously, would he set the indelible record this Olympics? 

Even the Dark Night Rose again -

Tuesday, August 21, 2012


Given to her adventurous zeal,
She explores life with open arms.

For years, she tracked the desert.
In vain hope, to find the most extra ordinary oasis.

She was naive, gauche and fallible.
Year after year, she tried a lot.

Over and over again.

With bruised knees and parched lips,
She treaded hard and alone.

Passers by and natives requested her to quit.
Her home asked her for a retreat.

Stubborn, she did not stop.

Given to a whim,
She thought -
The best things come with the best price.

This was the time,
This was it.
After being duped several times by the false sea.
She breathed deep.

When she was awake, alive and conscious
The reflection on sand she could see.
From the beauty of perfect timing of the sun,
And the golden soil,
The illusion that it created was irresistible.

She was tired and yearning thirsty.
She walked closer to observe.
The artist in her,
Provoked her more and she stopped there.
As she lay there –
She dreamt.
She dreamt of her oasis.
Then she fainted out of fatigue.
Woke up, realized -
The mirage had vanished,
Left her only more thirsty and dying –

She is hopeful it will rain soon.
Either the mirage like a dream will change,
Or in the hope to still find The Oasis
She will walk more,
She will walk more,
Carefully, with saved soul and humanity
And all the love inside her heart
To understand the difference
And not lose sight of the real Elixir of her life.

She walks more.
She walks more.
And as the world watch her with mixed feelings.
She does not feel alone.
She walks more.
She walks more.
She walks more.
She walks more.
She walks more.

Thursday, August 16, 2012



O,night! Wish you could never fall,
If you were to send my lover to someone else.
I was already afraid of you, always.

He assumes I sleep,
With the beads of prayers in my hand
Every part of my soul weeps.

He assumes he is right,
Now that he is carrying out our love's demise.
The stars around him shine so bright.

He feels he takes care of himself.
Does he feel how love cares for him?
Was that then his obsession?

I only know
If it was true love,
It will be back!

Epilogue - To he, who said : I have a mom. Her love matters more. She is old.
She said : I have one too. She brought me up with a guarantee that I can learn a new language, cover myself head to toe, endorse the boundaries my future home has, love my immediate new elders, just as I cared for my own & even more. And so much more. I come from a thinking bourgeois family. So, do not you give me that alibli , just because you got bored and wanted to explore more ha ha ha ha. I would pretend that I bought your logic soon - just because cupid struck me blind. If love is about having the guts to deliver, love is also about forgiving. May you have a good one ahead! Since, I do not want you to get ridiculed,I say - I respect that you care so much.Your mom deserves it. But please keep the story untold.
Where a world laughs at my silly jokes and at me,I laugh with them.In the private quiet of dark sleep visits the fragrance of our doubly impaired love.It was blind earlier.It is dumb and deaf now...I just wake up from my sleep to feel arms of love around me and the redolent memories of the past dance in the watery stuff around the corners of my eyes and a tear hesitates to drop on the phone that says - O now c'mon u little monster, u had better sleep...:)

Girls- Beware of addictive, psychopaths : they can be just everywhere. I was shocked to find out that a 27 year old close friend was almost saved from getting hooked to a 36 year old married men.O god, these people can be called the Illusionist! They are such glib talkers that all the MB stuff looks like coming true.And blessed are those for whom the earthquake never reached its highest on Richter Scale.Though, some tremors continue to shake them. Yet such high sounding filmy affairs end like a damp squib...U understand what I mean lol... U see I do not like sermonising:)