tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27000965972341971412024-03-05T12:52:48.940-08:00To Hell With The NameDammit. Thinking of a Name is such a tiring task. So this is it. I don't care about the Name anymore. And,anyway, What's in a Name? ;)Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-80148257053268644352011-11-30T07:06:00.001-08:002011-11-30T11:57:13.358-08:00I want to run away! Seriously!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
Life isn't treating me well these days. I have loads of things to say to a lot of people but when I try, I get all lost and I don't understand how to say, what to say to my 'friends'. I have been observing people around me these days and I have learnt one thing: The best way to avoid pain is to stay away.<br />
In the last post, everyone who has commented has told me that sooner or later, I'd get over Him but I don't want to get over him. Never. He's the one I love. Forever and Ever. I learnt to love, to care when He came into my life.<br />
My friend's boyfriend is His best friend and he came down to Dehradun to visit her and I've been having these weird feeling, the feeling of hurt, the feeling of being ignored, the feeling of not being loved. I miss him, I miss him a lot. And, he never understands. I had this weird feeling and I called up my friend, who I had a 'crush' on, and told him that I WANT a boyfriend and I need one and he got angry at me and I got all hyper and now we've stopped talking.<br />
These days, I want to run away. Run away to some place where I don't want to be found. I don't want to talk to people. They've stopped asking me as to what's wrong with me coz it's useless. I don't know what to tell them. I don't know what to say.<br />
No one understands. I have friends who're committed and they talk to each other about their boyfriends and everything and well, I get frustrated. Not that I can't get a boyfriend. I don't want one. It's not about a boyfriend. It's about him. I know I've committed a lot of mistakes, hurt him a lot but hasn't he hurt me?<br />
Daaaahh! I am sorry, this one wasn't supposed to be a rant but that's what it has turned out to be.<br />
I want to run away. Seriously. I feel left alone. FML!<br />
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P.S.: I am extremely sorry for not commenting on your posts. I read them, like always.. I just don't know what to write.<br />
Also thank you for being there! :)</div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-71880512923808312432011-11-24T11:44:00.000-08:002011-11-24T11:53:54.109-08:00How We Met<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">We're not in a relationship anymore but we still talk sometimes. We're not a "thing" any more but we still understand each other or so I like to believe. Do I love him, still? I don't know. Do I want to know? NO. The family <i>pandit ji</i> told me that there won't be stability in my relationships and jobs till the age of twenty-five. And, for some reason, unknown to myself, I believe he is true (I hate to say this, though). We broke up for <i>n</i> number of times. Till a few months back, I couldn't imagine my future, my life without Him. Now, I have no freaking clue, what my future holds and you know what? This sucks.<br />
Anyway, this post isn't supposed to be all about cribbing and crying, although I am going through the phase, where you feel rotten and run away to the Himalayas to live alone.<br />
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</div><div>How did your first date go? How did you first meet your guy? How did you look? How did he look? </div><div>My first meeting with Him went like this. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I was fifteen and a half and he was nineteen. Me, a tenth grader. He, a first year marine engineering student. How we came to know each other, is another story which I will narrate some other time. Right now, you need to know that we hadn't seen each other before. Never. Although we used to talk for hours on phone. Yes, when the call rate for STD calls was Rs. 2.75 per minute.<br />
He was back for his vacations and we desperately wanted to see each other. So far, all our plans got cancelled for some reason or the other. </div><div>One day, I got off the bus at my stoppage and started walking towards my home. It was a five minute walk. I had only taken a few steps when I spotted someone looking at me. When I looked at him, I couldn't take my eyes off him. He was the most handsome guy I had ever seen. Not that I had seen a lot of guys. Girls' school restricts the scope, you know. He smiled and I looked away. </div><div>He was there, chewing a gum, in a turquoise blue shirt, blue jeans and shoes. He had this smile which tugged at my heart. I looked at him again, and he was still looking at me. That scared me a little. I walked a little farther. And, I don't know why but something made me turn back. He was there and then he came closer to me and said, "Anuranjani?" and my heart skipped a beat. It was Him. I couldn't say anything so I nodded. He smiled, extended his hand and smiled a little more. </div><div>It was Him. But it couldn't be Him. He looked nothing like he had said he looked like, nor did he sound the way he did on phone. He was tall, broad shoulders and well built. Fair with a breath-taking smile. On the phone, he'd told me he was <i>okay-ish</i> tall, dark, looked just okay. </div><div>The person standing in front of me was nothing less than a movie star. Seriously. </div><div>He walked me to my home. We stopped in a lane to talk but a few aunties stared at us, like we were from some other planet or were some extinct species, so we just walked, stealing glances and secretly smiling.</div><div>Twenty minutes. That's for how long our first meeting/date lasted.</div><div>I went home and the first thing I did was look into the mirror. Ouch! Disaster, I looked.Total Disaster. For a few minutes, I thought he must have freaked out. :|</div><div>He called me in the evening and I asked Him, how he thought I looked and he said, "better than the picture of you I saw". Yes, he'd seen a picture of me but I had not.</div><div>And, oh! He had brought a chocolate for me which remained in his jeans pocket and which he gave to his mother. I got nothing on my first date. :P</div><div><br />
</div><div>So, that's how we first met.</div><div><br />
Two months later, he proposed to me.<br />
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</div><div>P.S.: I've only met him thrice in four years and three years of our relationship. </div><div><br />
P.P.S.: Let me know if you want to know about our second meeting too. :P</div><div><br />
P.P.P.S: I really, really want to show you his picture but I cannot. He'll kill me. He's the kind of guys who girls drool on. :| My friend once said that he was too good for me. :|</div><div><br />
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</div><div>Please, please, please forgive me for not commenting on the posts. Not in the best of state of mind, I am in. I will comment soon. Real soon. Just that I am going through a really bad phase, where all I want to do is run away to some place where there is no one, just lots of my kind of music. </div><div>And, sorry for this really long post. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Three years and I haven't even kissed once. So, this is enough for you to forgive me for this really long post. ;)</div><div><br />
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</div></div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-71649884399393870852011-11-18T07:56:00.000-08:002011-11-18T11:21:22.179-08:00I Love You<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">With that smile on His face and that glint in His eyes, how did He expect her not to fall in love with Him? Those eyes, those lips, that nose and the chiselled face— He was dropped straight from Heaven. She drooled over His smile. She was transported into another world when He looked at her, the way He was looking at her. How could one person be so perfect, so flawless and how could she be so lucky?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He was waiting. Waiting for her to say something and she should have said something but she was too dumbstruck to say anything. She smiled and he smiled back and there appeared the magic dimples— deep and totally killing. She held her breath; he was holding his, since long. He asked her to say something, anything. Said that the silence was getting very uncomfortable. But, she couldn’t speak. She pinched herself from under the table and blinked several times. He grinned. She stared. He asked her again and this time she found her voice and said, <i>yes.</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">What did he ask her? Well, he asked her if she loved him as much as he loved her. Did she love him? She did. Since that very first moment she had seen him when she was in class tenth and he was in twelfth. Four years it took him.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">He came and sat beside her and held her hand. Absolute Bliss. She shifted closer. There were a lot of people in the restaurant. </span><i style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">To hell with the people</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">, she thought. His face inched closer. She knew what he was going to do. She had seen a lot of movies and read a lot of books. She closed her eyes. His lips brushed hers. She felt a thrill. Her grip on his hand tightened and he kissed her a little harder. His mouth brushed her ear and he whispered those three magic words: </span><i style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">I Love You.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_fl3iqXXwKzNgHpIE-RypppKtiWL0GsBx5rjKP-bXHRmQNzETirIDpbcP_Xff-n_VLk65nIwnFZgJY8Qou4KL9rqJby7Xrd9QwqiP9zOXZe86OUSeEMF_5WqykZOP65-A8Tz1zMPHi4g/s1600/first_kiss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_fl3iqXXwKzNgHpIE-RypppKtiWL0GsBx5rjKP-bXHRmQNzETirIDpbcP_Xff-n_VLk65nIwnFZgJY8Qou4KL9rqJby7Xrd9QwqiP9zOXZe86OUSeEMF_5WqykZOP65-A8Tz1zMPHi4g/s200/first_kiss.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br />
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<i style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">P.S.: No. This is not what happened with me. Yes. This is what I want to happen with me! ;)</i></div></div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-65162355222895941472011-11-11T11:49:00.000-08:002011-11-11T13:02:32.562-08:00I don't know what to call THIS!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I have reasons to be happy and I have reasons to be sad and I am confused. :|</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It's my birthday on Sunday. :D Yes, the thirteenth, the "lucky" number, thirteen. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My parents gifted me a laptop. :D<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">HP Pavilion, G Series. It is Red and B.E.A.U.T.I.F.U.L. The screen is 15.6" and I love it but... Yes, here comes the word- But.. I am not getting to take this to Dehradun this time. :| I know, Sad and I could do with a little sympathy. It's been only thirty hours since I got the laptop (yes, I counted the hours) and I am already so addicted to it. I have no clue how I'd survive without my dear laptop. :( The Samsung Netbook that I have seems so small and full of flaws, now. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Another bad news is, I'd be travelling the entire day, on Sunday. :| So, no birthday celebrations and no party. I know, I know, I'll turn twenty and I should start behaving like a responsible adult but that is just not me. I don't know why people expect me to behave like an adult and stop behaving like a kid all the time, now that I am turning twenty. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I want to be six again. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Oh! And I also saw him yesterday. I thought I won't tell anyone in case my chances of seeing him again got jinxed, but What the Heck! As if I'd see him again, if I didn't tell you all.<br />
I went to the park yesterday evening with my two year old niece, Zara. I was my usual self, talking, laughing, playing when I saw him. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">He was standing there, 5'11'', in a blue shirt, blue jeans and white sports shoes. He has the best jaw-line in the world and an oh-so-awesome physique and he kept adjusting his specs while playing with his nephew. Yes, yes, I shamelessly stared at him. He is <i>that</i> handsome. I knew he was un-approachable, just like all the good-looking guys, so I sighed and turned to play with Zara. Hide and Seek- that's what we were playing. She was to hide and I was to find her. She chose <i>him</i> to hide behind. I thought of ways to bring her back without attracting attention from him. There wasn't any way, so I went from behind and said, <i>caught you</i>, in the lowest possible voice. Zara laughed and ran away. He turned back and looked at me (for about 5 seconds) and smiled as if I was some good chirpy kid. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It made me uncomfortable. Those 5 seconds made me conscious as to what I was wearing. And the smile. Aaahhh! I almost fainted. Breath-taking, mesmerizing, the cutest I have ever seen. I, as it is, have a weakness for dimples. Ouch! I so wanted to keep standing there, looking at him but obviously couldn't. After what seemed to be my fifth attempt I muttered, "Sorry, that was not meant for you. My niece. She was hiding behind you."</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"I know," he said and smiled again. Made me go all weak in the knees. My entire thought process got stuck and suddenly I had no place to look at. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Isn't this what happens in the movies and books? </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And then I heard my name being called out. <i>Di. </i>She's always there at the wrong time. I rushed towards her. I could feel his eyes on me. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">No. It was NO love at first sight or maybe it was. :| I had never felt this nervousness around anyone, not even for my first debate competition, not even when I went to represent my school for the debate competition, not even for the college interviews. After a long time, I was unable to look into someone's eyes because I was too conscious. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I was smiling all evening, yesterday coz I saw him. Him as in <i>him</i>, the guy in the park. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Even when I am writing this post, I am smiling. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Oh, and this reminds me, I should also tell you that I don't think I am going to see him again for the following reasons, unless God has planned something(I so wish, he has):</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">1. I don't know anything about him. No, Not even his name.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">2. I am leaving for Dehradun, today. So, NO CHANCE.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Therefore, see, I have reasons to be happy and also to be sad. I don't want to be travelling on my birthday. I want to celebrate my birthday, with cakes and balloons and candies and gifts. I don't want to grow up. I don't want people to expect me to behave all grown up and matured. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I want to take my laptop with me, THIS TIME. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Most importantly, I don't want to go back. I have already missed a lot of classes and I may get debarred coz I am really low on attendance but I still don't want to go. It's strange. When I was here, I couldn't wait to go out. Couldn't wait for a hostel life. Now, I feel, Home is so much better. God, please do something about my confusion. :| </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Cherry Cream Soda';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">P.S.: I never thought this post would get so long. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Cherry Cream Soda';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">P.P.S.: Birthday wishes are always welcome. I love it when someone wishes me Happy Birthday! :D :D</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Cherry Cream Soda';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">P.P.P.S.: When I am very excited/sad/happy, I talk gibberish, so forgive me for talking gibberish. I am so full of different kinds of emotions right now, I don't know what to do or say or how to say. So I guess, I better shut up.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Cherry Cream Soda';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">One last thing! :D<br />
I was about to go to sleep but I decided against it and decided to read the recent post of my awesome fellow bloggers, I follow and guess what! I have been awarded! :D :D</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Cherry Cream Soda';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">My first ever award! :D</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjovFkCh8wSn48VJrfMFUC1VeHJlqqnfx4Hx9AX9Li_O657ijfUsXWMBVAfiUClaPCrFl7G2yS6TNGDHpq1CoaupCsRJP7uefF616Bucvy8ht7GMP7C4Vdb2N4lRzAeDaci5EjptZ933Uo/s1600/lightmartinisnifter-1copy.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjovFkCh8wSn48VJrfMFUC1VeHJlqqnfx4Hx9AX9Li_O657ijfUsXWMBVAfiUClaPCrFl7G2yS6TNGDHpq1CoaupCsRJP7uefF616Bucvy8ht7GMP7C4Vdb2N4lRzAeDaci5EjptZ933Uo/s320/lightmartinisnifter-1copy.png" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Cherry Cream Soda';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Thank You so much, <a href="http://littlemomentsofbliss.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Serendipity</a>!! :D :D :*</span></span></div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-1871653224754291712011-11-07T04:02:00.000-08:002011-11-07T05:43:32.469-08:00If Only<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow; font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC'; font-size: x-large;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow; font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC'; font-size: x-large;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow; font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC'; font-size: x-large;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">The eyes that looked back at him were full of love and affection. No. The picture did not do justice to her beauty. The big, beautiful, gray eyes, always lined with kohl, the cute little nose and the nose stud she wore, the naturally pink lips all set in that heart-shaped face made her look like an angel. The smile, the dimples that the smile brought, the way her eyes brightened every time she smiled had taken his breath away every single time he’d looked at her, since the last sixteen years, ever since they were six, No camera in the world, no artist could ever capture her beauty. </span><br />
<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">He’d considered himself lucky to have her. To have her love. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">She’d promised to stay with him forever. Didn’t she tell him that no matter what, she’d always love him? Hadn’t she promised that even if he wanted her to leave, she wouldn’t because she loved him too much? Didn’t she tell him that she’ll never leave him alone? Then why?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Why did she go? Why did she leave him when he hadn’t even asked her to? Why did she break her promise? Where did the forever go? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">He hadn’t asked her to leave. He couldn’t, ever. But, she did. For God wanted her to.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">To see someone die is painful. It hurts. To see someone you love more than anything else in the world, die is excruciating. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">He blamed himself for her death. No matter what his friends said, no matter how much his parents consoled him, no matter what HER parents said, he held himself responsible. The doctor had declared her brought dead and she’d died with his name on her lips and his hand in hers. He’d seen the pain on her face but he had also seen the love in her eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">If only he’d not called her while she was crossing the road. If only he’d not dared her to cross the road, alone. If only he’d not asked her to meet him, that day. IF ONLY.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">He looked below. 20,000 feet. He couldn’t even do that. HE couldn’t even die. He knew he couldn’t end his life. The parents-his and hers would not be able to take it. Her parents had lost their only child. His parents would lose theirs if he jumped. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">He walked back to their home. The house she’d wanted since she was nineteen. He knew he’d buy it. Buy it for her. But, there was no her. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">He wondered where she was. He wondered if she was watching him. Tears were flowing and he wondered if she was crying with him, wherever she was. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“I don’t want you to cry. Not a single tear, okay? I love you. Always have, always will,” he whispered.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: 'Monotype Corsiva'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Two month later, he died in a road accident. <o:p></o:p></span></div></span></div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-20607762905341366962011-11-05T14:41:00.000-07:002011-11-05T14:41:08.978-07:00I Wanna Get Married.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I so want to get married. I have <b>always</b> wanted to get married. Weddings have <b>always</b> fascinated me. Ever since I was a kid, I have dreamt of getting married. When I was a kid, I asked my best friend if she'd marry me. She said she had no problems with that, only, it'd be better if I married a guy.<br />
<br />
I was in the fourth standard and my best friend had changed. This time, a guy. He was my neighbour. I remember attending my cousin's wedding that year. I went crazy. All the gifts, the food, the dance, the make-up. Everything left a deep impact on my <b><i>innocent</i></b> mind and all I could think of, was ways to get married. First, I needed someone to get married to. I thought of ShahRukh Khan, but I couldn't contact him. Yes. He was <b>that</b> busy. :P So, after I returned from the wedding, I went straight to his(my best friend's) house and in a very serious tone asked him if he would marry me. He refused. I ran away. Next day, we were playing and I asked him again. He refused again. I tried to lure him into the marriage. I told him how we'd get innumerable gifts and how we'd eat the best food ever and How beautiful I'd look and everything and he still refused. I asked him the same thing in twenty different ways and he freaked out and complained to him mom. :|<br />
I was at my naughtiest in the fourth standard! :P<br />
<a href="http://anuranjaniverma.blogspot.com/2011/10/kaun-banega-crorepati-junior.html" target="_blank">Read This</a> and you'll know:<br />
<br />
I grew up a bit and I still wanted to get married. *sigh*<br />
And, well, Shah Rukh Khan was all I could think of. He was everything I wanted my husband to be, which precisely was good-looking.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-j7VNF696LcTT2Rc0N0bT7lwZxoU5M4__badVtxK5SJTSr-ShH-EYZUKrnFcVvcNev50h9uBY7xQs1kqgrhB2eWUPbE9Z1c2CVQ_dcr4Dzf6lHXpZHzePBQwyEUf5Mn-Xe3trX9Qoy_c/s1600/Shah_Rukh_Khan_300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-j7VNF696LcTT2Rc0N0bT7lwZxoU5M4__badVtxK5SJTSr-ShH-EYZUKrnFcVvcNev50h9uBY7xQs1kqgrhB2eWUPbE9Z1c2CVQ_dcr4Dzf6lHXpZHzePBQwyEUf5Mn-Xe3trX9Qoy_c/s320/Shah_Rukh_Khan_300.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I Loved him them. I Love Him Now and I will Love him Forever. <3</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I had a boyfriend for a little while, when I grew up. :D I asked him once if it'd be okay if we married and then continued our education. He was speechless for a few minutes. :|</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">And then I fell in love again. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZDZb5UfCprCLBJd0qxKKt3x37_NyaxkkATbzfmXaoqMgk-13UPpgvhwSfmnuuHtsTLHPHijOAHiZhrN9euPrffCFUP6f0s0panJGpNSaAtJpHEShnABSSFi8Ni5YPOTdWQbdvTQHn9w/s1600/ian-somerhalder-ian-somerhalder-6202236-1024-768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZDZb5UfCprCLBJd0qxKKt3x37_NyaxkkATbzfmXaoqMgk-13UPpgvhwSfmnuuHtsTLHPHijOAHiZhrN9euPrffCFUP6f0s0panJGpNSaAtJpHEShnABSSFi8Ni5YPOTdWQbdvTQHn9w/s1600/ian-somerhalder-ian-somerhalder-6202236-1024-768.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Yes. With Him. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ian Joseph Somerhalder. He is gorgeous and I totally want to marry him. *Sigh* So totally out of reach he is. :(</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">So, since I cannot marry SRK or Somerhalder, I better settle down for someone, anyone who's ready to marry me. Err, not really. </div><div style="text-align: left;">I wonder what my future hubby's doing right now. Talking to his current girlfriend? Err, I don't think I like the thought of it, even. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Love marriage is not meant for me. I am too confused a person to actually fall in love. :|</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT57VWCU4sEWI1qK-vdRW6DXE7ek4D60UysW9lZExqHb9FxIdWah0QwHxSjS34dTwMKHAieC23ltdpTAdrlLdcHtqYhXQ_pGosVk0Z0VTygRGcuGXKm4W_mJZEttuW7bLQPgUDvv0is0M/s1600/stock-vector-boy-proposing-girl-45245185.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT57VWCU4sEWI1qK-vdRW6DXE7ek4D60UysW9lZExqHb9FxIdWah0QwHxSjS34dTwMKHAieC23ltdpTAdrlLdcHtqYhXQ_pGosVk0Z0VTygRGcuGXKm4W_mJZEttuW7bLQPgUDvv0is0M/s320/stock-vector-boy-proposing-girl-45245185.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i>I wonder what I'd do when someone comes to me, sits on one knee, presents a ring and asks me to marry him. </i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i>It'd be so romantic. </i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i><br />
</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i><br />
</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i><br />
</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i>No. The diamond needn't be this big. :P</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i><br />
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</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">I'd get married twice. With the same person, of course. :D </div><div style="text-align: left;">Once, the traditional Hindu wedding and then the Christian wedding. I'd love to dance with <i>him </i>and I absolutely want to have a father-daughter dance.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxUsJ_ctBG_8F001kCEUs78V06EaXYtRyDuLQa0X0MQZ8X7mlHPgrqqNP7hfscLTEEO1wUfhrrM4p4UJCFP7WMOAxDwNwrESsyFtrlaBi4EqIMSCy5kR49t1mX3MJsrMWMPgcHnMh_rbM/s1600/127060625649MlQ3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxUsJ_ctBG_8F001kCEUs78V06EaXYtRyDuLQa0X0MQZ8X7mlHPgrqqNP7hfscLTEEO1wUfhrrM4p4UJCFP7WMOAxDwNwrESsyFtrlaBi4EqIMSCy5kR49t1mX3MJsrMWMPgcHnMh_rbM/s1600/127060625649MlQ3.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">And then, we'll live happily ever after. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">P.S.: My best friend? He took his revenge two years ago. He called me one night and proposed to me. I totally freaked out. He was kidding, thankfully. Taking his revenge, he said.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">P.P.S.: Still a minimum of five years before I can actually get married. :(</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">P.P.P.S: "Love or arranged, it's all the same once you get married." - My elder sister.</div></div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-58821413388095008022011-11-04T11:45:00.000-07:002011-11-04T12:41:59.482-07:00Stupid Me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I can be so, so, sooooooooooooooooooooo Stooooooopid! :(<br />
<br />
Unfair, Unfair, Totally Unfair! :|<br />
<br />
Okay. So, here is what happened. I was deleting drafts and I accidentally deleted my recent post. Can I recover it? Can someone help me do it?!<br />
<br />
I would have re-written (typed) it, but I don't want to, at the moment.<br />
<br />
HELP!!!<br />
<br />
Okay. Good Night. :|</div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-80946905470362241062011-11-02T14:10:00.000-07:002011-11-02T21:53:05.607-07:00Alcholic Me.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Alcohol transports me into a different world altogether. I cry, I laugh, I talk, I complain, I am sarcastic(which I usually am not :( ) and I get all <i>senti.</i> I am at my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: line-through;">best</span> worst when I am drunk. I have never been drunk, really. One peg/shot is enough for me. It has this strange effect on me. Everything seems <span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: line-through;">beautiful</span> ugly. I find <span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: line-through;">no</span> faults in everyone. I am <span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: line-through;">carefree</span> stupid, confident and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: line-through;">awesome</span> weird.<br />
I was talking to my dad this evening when he asked me, "So, what birthday plans?" and I was reminded of a birthday party, where I had a peg of Whiskey. Royal Challenge 350 or something of the sort. That was the day, I swore off alcohol. I had a shot of Vodka once and I had behaved, the exact same way I behaved that day. I had always believed that it was Vodka. With 70 percent alcohol content, what else do you expect? But, no. It's alcohol. I go crazy. I remember laughing madly for about eight minutes, without break., without any reason., at all. Yes, My friends were seeing the watch. I would have posted a photo of that day but my laptop's crashed.<br />
I don't really remember what happened that day but I have my friends to remind me of all the stupidity. I remember staring at a cute guy with a date. That earned me some really nasty stares from the girl, though.<br />
This is what happened at the party.<br />
<br />
<br />
Me *trying to stand up*: I'll be back.<br />
Friend 1: Where are you going?<br />
Me *Still struggling*: The Washroom<br />
Friend1 to Friend 2: I think you should go.<br />
Me *Raising my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: line-through;">left </span> right hand: I am not incapable, okay?<br />
<br />
After I came back from the washroom, where I was followed by my friend like a detective, I sat still, staring at my friend, who by the way is insanely hot.<br />
He: Anu?<br />
Me: Yes.<br />
He: The food is there.<br />
Me: You look yum!<br />
*IMAGINE* I said THAT. TO HIM. I still cannot look him in the eyes. :|<br />
<br />
A few minutes later, something else had my attention. This time, I wanted to act. I wanted to show my friends how my political science teacher walked and talked. EeeeEEEEEeeeee! Seriously, he is so funny. :D<br />
But, I was stopped because of this conversation.<br />
Friend: What's that thing on your plate, Anu?<br />
Me *flashing a broad smile*: Chicken.<br />
Friend: Isn't it yummy?<br />
Me: Totally.<br />
Friend: You want more?<br />
Me: YESSSSS!!!!<br />
Friend: Then finish it off. Quick.<br />
Me: *starts eating*<br />
<br />
When I came out of the restaurant, there were a few beggars. Now, I always have a soft corner for these poor people. I gave one of them my wallet, that had my debit card, my Driving License and Dad's credit card. Not to mention, eight hundred rupees.<br />
<br />
<br />
Don't worry I got that wallet back. :D<br />
<br />
P.S.: I swore off alcohol that day.<br />
<br />
P.P.S.: I don't know why am I not able to upload pictures. :'(</div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-56360883120993088062011-11-01T03:58:00.000-07:002011-11-01T05:51:18.962-07:00Confused Confession<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I changed my blog's name. I changed my blog template too. For the simple reason that this suits me more. I am one confused character. My BFF calls me the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">confused-est</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> person on Earth. I have always agreed to it, silently, never accepted it. But, it's time now that I did. Time now thatt I confessed to it. Yes, I am confused. To the core. Simple things confuse me. When it comes to choices, I leave them on the people I trust. And, when it is absolutely necessary for me to make a choice, well, it takes me an eternity to make one. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">From simple things like, choosing the colour of paint for my room to important life-changing decisions like choosing the right guy for myself, I always find some thing, some small point and manage to get confused. And, so I have decided, never in my life, will I even think of love marriage. Yesterday evening my BFF said, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It's an art which only you know. Only you can get confused </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">this</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> easily and to </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">that</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">extent</span>.</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> I mean "what to eat first?" Seriously? Take a bow Anuranjani Verma. </span></i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It's my birthday in a few days and, no, I am not confused about that. :P</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This thing, this confusion is like an ever-haunting problem. Something I can never get rid of. Sometimes I get totally frustrated with myself. My head aches and I want to throw away, leave everything and run away to a place where there never arises a chance of any decision to be made and I can live peacefully. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Anyway, it is my birthday in a few days (yeyeyeye! ahem!) and Ma's getting me new clothes. [Clothes are her department and the rest- Dad's!] She asked me this morning, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What do you want for your birthday? Something traditional or like always-Jeans?</span></i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I sighed and since I did not want to think and I wasn't even sure as to what I really wanted, I said, BOTH. Only if all the decisions in life were so simple.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When a year and a half ago, I had to decide between English Honours and Law, I chose law. Again, I sometimes do regret choosing law since Literature was always my love. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This or that. Here or there. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I called up my best friend in the morning and we were talking about some cute guy in her college when all of a sudden, she said: </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Thank God, You aren't confused between Him and Her. </span></i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now, That is insulting! :|</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"> </div></div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-86189707451056425442011-10-31T11:08:00.000-07:002011-11-01T05:44:42.319-07:00The Final Good-Bye<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; line-height: 14px;">Finally a time to say good bye</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A time to let you go<br />
A time to accept that you do not belong with me<br />
That we were not meant to be.<br />
I knew that this would come<br />
One day or the other.<br />
But reality is so different from imagination,<br />
Life is so short, so unpredictable<br />
Full of twists, turns and it's own funny games.<br />
You meant the world to me.<br />
Oh God! you still do.<br />
I can't say goodbye however hard I try<br />
I just can't let you go<br />
But I know I will have to<br />
Coz you're not mine!<br />
Tears drop, heart breaks<br />
but I know I have to understand<br />
that we are not meant to be<br />
only if it was all so simple.<br />
will you be mine was the question i asked<br />
'I cannot be yours" was the answer you gave<br />
And came the world- toppling, tumbling down on me<br />
I still will say<br />
"Beside you you will find me always--<br />
No Complains No Demands"<br />
My love is a little selfish<br />
It wants the whole of you<br />
I want to be with you<br />
But can never bear seeing you upset, sad or distressed.<br />
I wish I really had got that second chance<br />
But probably there's no second chance in love.<br />
can't say you memories are enough<br />
Nothing less than you is enough for me<br />
But,<br />
Since I can't have you..<br />
I'll have to do with the memories. </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">P.S.: I wrote this when I was sixteen. I know, kiddish and stupid but back then I thought I was an awesome poet. :P</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Yes, this poem is here to prove how terribly pathetic I am when it comes to poetry! :P</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span></div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-66799632871732540172011-10-31T05:20:00.000-07:002011-11-01T05:55:37.126-07:00The Blue-Eyed Boy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Internship in Mumbai was supposed to be fun. Beaches, discs, shopping, nightlife, movie-sets, etc were the things they had imagined. Extended work-hours, working weekends and no time to breathe was what they got.<br />
Someone has rightly said: Being a lawyer is not an easy job.<br />
It was almost a month and they were yet to get one free weekend and by the time they reached home, they were so tired, there was no scope of any nightlife.<br />
It was a not-so-busy day, that day. They signed into the group chat.<br />
<br />
Ananya: He is so freaking cute... ^_^<br />
Ashna: So?<br />
Vyom: Who? :O<br />
Ashna: The new guy in the office.<br />
Vyom: He's not new. He's on the board of directors.<br />
Ashna: What?!<br />
Ananya: What!?<br />
Vyom: Yes.<br />
Ananya: Whatever! He is cute.<br />
Ashna: What's cute in him? White as milk. His lips are so pink.<br />
Vyom: Exactly.<br />
Ananya: His smile. The dimple. The voice. Aahhh, I died when he talked to me yesterday. And his EYES!! They are so blue. *_*<br />
Ashna: The only good thing. I like the eyes.<br />
Vyom: GIRLS!!! :x<br />
<br />
The next few days were spent in the usual manner. All Ananya talked about was, The Blue-Eyed Boy.<br />
They were sitting in the cafeteria when their blue-eyed boy came to them. Vyom and Ashna excused themselves.<br />
"He asked me for my number." Ananya informed both of them animatedly.<br />
"And, you refused." Vyom teased.<br />
"Ha ha! Funny."<br />
<br />
*Blue-Eyed Boy Calling*<br />
"Hello?" Ananya said, holding her breath.<br />
"Hey. I hope I am not disturbing." he said in his honey-smooth voice.<br />
"Not at all." she said.<br />
They talked for about an hour.<br />
"Hey, before I hang up, I want to ask you something." he said.<br />
Was he going to ask her out?<br />
She kept him on hold, danced a little, called Ashna and then resumed the call, putting the phone on speaker.<br />
They both heard with bated breaths.<br />
"Umm.. if you don't mind me telling this. Is your friend single?"<br />
Both their hearts sank. <i>What!?</i> Ashna mouthed. <i>He doesn't even know me. Shucks!</i><br />
"Err.. Yes." Ananya said, not wanting to talk anymore.<br />
"Good. Because I really like him," he said.<br />
<br />
Ananya and Ashna looked at each other. HIM!?<br />
<br />
"<i>Excitement mei galat bol gaya hoga yaar," </i>Ashna said.<br />
<br />
"Him?" Ananya asked him.<br />
"Yes. Vyom is so freaking cute."<br />
<br />
----x----<br />
Sometimes life plays silly jokes on people. :P<br />
<br />
P.S.: I have no clue what made me write this.</div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-9960584478697166712011-10-28T10:47:00.000-07:002011-11-01T05:45:12.421-07:00It's you. Forever!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I can absolutely <i>not</i> understand why my brother has to behave like a complete jack-ass at times. Do you know?” Siya came into the room like a tornado and one look at her told me that the <i>volcano was about to burst</i>! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“What?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Nothing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Okay.” I said and returned back to the safety of the letter.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“<i>Okay?</i> That’s all?” she looked at me and shouted.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">How does she manage to shout with double energy every time, is still a mystery to me. I was about to ask what was wrong when she looked at the letter in my hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“The letter, huh!” she smiled. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Don’t torture yourself, baby. Do what you feel like. Life isn’t about thinking so much. It is about doing. If you want to get back with him, then do so. Life is too short to sit and ponder.” She said.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">And before I could say something, she went back from the romantic self to the crazy, angry-at-the-moment-self. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“What did he not agree to, this time?” I asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Letting me go out with Saif.” She cried, her big, beautiful, brown eyes filling with tears. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Wow, I am always amazed at her capacity to cry. I mean, no matter what the reason, no matter how trivial a reason, she can cry. Such a drama queen she is. Where does she get all the tears from?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Just then her phone started ringing. <i>Swapnil. </i>Moving out of the room seemed to be the safest option but I couldn’t budge an inch from where I was sitting. Thankyou Siya. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">After a lot of shouting and screaming and crying and fighting, Siya smiled. I knew at the moment that Swapnil had relented. That she was going out with this Saif guy. When she kept the phone she gave me a victorious smile. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Who is Saif, anyway?” I asked, genuinely intrigued by now. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“He.” Siya said pointing towards the laptop screen. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Okay. This guy was hot. Like, really, truly, absolutely hot. I mean, my eyes popped out. Wow. His profile picture on Facebook oozed sexiness. It was something I can never forget. White shirt and blue jeans. An Indian version of Ian Somerhalder. The guy from the Trueblood Series? Yes. You got it right. Damon Salvatore. And, he was from my college? What? Why had I never seen him? Deep-gray eyes, a smile which left a deep gash in his right cheek and a face which was not shaved for almost about two days, made him absolutely sexy. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Can I send him a friend request?” I asked Siya, still looking at the profile picture. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“He is mine” she replied.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Just like all the other guys?” I asked and she stuck out her tongue at that. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Why have I never seen him?” I asked <b>still </b>looking at the picture. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Maybe because he is in the College of Engineering Studies and also because you’re too busy thinking about Amey <i>all the time</i>?” She replied. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Whatever!” I said, <b><i>still</i></b> looking at the picture. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype';">Just then my phone rang. <i>Amey. </i>Everything else faded. I could only see his name on my phone. The conversation lasted for about six minutes, more than what I expected. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype';">After I kept the phone down, Siya said, "You know what? I think I should wear this one for the date. What d'you suggest?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype';">"Date?" I asked, confused.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype';">"The one with Saif." she reminded me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype';">"Saif?" I asked, wondering aloud.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype';">"Forget it." She sighed, made an overly dramatic face and went back to her pile of clothes.</span></div></div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-24884965427212390312011-10-25T10:30:00.000-07:002011-10-25T10:57:31.788-07:00The Lady in My Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I miss her when she is away. Her smile is the most beautiful, in the world. Her voice is the sweetest. She is The Most Important Person in my Life. She is sweet. She is pretty. She is Cute. She is the most beautiful girl. Her smile takes my heart away. I can hear her speak, forever and ever.<br />
I come back home after months and the first thing I do, is visit her. I am no more tired. When she sees me and smiles- Ahh, that feeling! When she rushes towards me, I can see no one but her.<br />
And, when she says, "I Lubbbbb You," I am the happiest person.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW2vkJ-ndyost50TatygVth1-0RI3mTVmAZV4lcPzGSCWgvz8g0HCGAh6bnQQ3csWls8ok1f2v0aQJhmkN_-Xfh_de3C4EDQINLOKaNsPvz8-2UwGYmXKUnxOa5_LuCmpOxOPLPGv8gq4/s1600/252489_2012717607214_1522003292_32169143_1357082_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW2vkJ-ndyost50TatygVth1-0RI3mTVmAZV4lcPzGSCWgvz8g0HCGAh6bnQQ3csWls8ok1f2v0aQJhmkN_-Xfh_de3C4EDQINLOKaNsPvz8-2UwGYmXKUnxOa5_LuCmpOxOPLPGv8gq4/s320/252489_2012717607214_1522003292_32169143_1357082_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>She is my two year old niece- Zara. My princess. My love! </div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-56600029676415374032011-10-20T13:33:00.000-07:002011-10-20T13:55:26.917-07:00Love all Along.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He smiled. A smile meant only for her. Her heart skipped a million beats. He had the most amazing smile, in the whole entire world. If smiles could kill, she would have died a thousand deaths by now. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Thank you.” She muttered as she took the paper from his hands. As the hands brushed and the eyes met, she stopped breathing. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She quickly turned. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. </i> She commanded herself and took in a deep breath. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">They were in the same class. Since the last two years and for the next three! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Err… Akrishta?” he called out to her.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The paper almost fell from her hands. He knew her name. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Of Course, he does. Silly. You’re both in the same class.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He had this effect on her. Only he did. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Yes, Ayan?” she managed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Would you mind explaining me these questions? I scored zero. See?” He said, making a face, showing her the paper in his hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Umm… Sure!” She said.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Okay. Meet me in the Food Court after this class?” he asked, smiling.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Food Court. 3 p.m<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“You get the point?” she asked him for the tenth time now.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Na. Not yet.” He replied.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He didn’t because he was not trying to. He was busy listening to her voice. For the first time in the two years that he knew her, did he hear her say so much. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He didn’t want to let this opportunity go. He wanted to tell her. But he knew she did not feel the same for him. In two years’ time she had hardly ever looked at him. He knew the answer. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This girl had her heart since the first day he had seen her. Every time he tried talking to her, something or the other stopped him. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He gave the thought, another thought. Should he really tell her and accept the rejection which was going to come his way or let it be and never know what she felt?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>What the heck!</i> He thought.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“… so the balance of power…” she was saying.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“I want to ask something really important,” he said, with all seriousness.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Yes?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Every time their eyes met, she felt a rush of emotions. Love. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“I love you. Do you love me?” he asked, looking straight into her eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She blinked. And blinked again. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Did he just say what she just heard? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">All the while his hands were clenched tightly, in anticipation. Why do girls take so much time to answer? What if she says no? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She said nothing. Her heart was doing flip-flops. It was beating so fast, she thought it’d jump out. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Yes,” she said meekly. What if she’d not heard him correctly. What if he’d asked something about the “balance of power”?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">For the first time in a few minutes, he breathed. For the first time in two years he sighed in relief. For the first time in two years, he looked into her eyes and realized it was love all along. He just had to see it. Love. The most beautiful feeling, ever. Love for him meant her and for her meant him. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">They smiled at each other. They held each others’ hands. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">His smile still is the most amazing in the whole, entire world and her heart still skips a beat every time he smiles. Only for her. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div></div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-86849269141232508602011-10-14T03:54:00.000-07:002011-10-14T04:00:07.063-07:00The Parting and The Meeting<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></span><br />
<div style="line-height: 16px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">She looked at him wondering when she would get to see him again. He looked handsome even in his sleep, the calmness accompanied with a faint smile playing on his lips made her heart ache. She longed to touch him, trace his face with her fingers. But she did not want to wake him, did not want to disturb his sleep. The childlike smile he gave when she gently held his hand, melted her heart and brought tears to her eyes. She realized she loved him, more than she could ever imagine.</span></div></div><div style="line-height: 16px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">Tomorrow he’d be gone. Gone for six months or maybe seven. After just four months of marriage he’ll be gone for six months leaving her all alone. She did not want him to go but she was not given any other option. He was the captain of the ship. A merchant navy officer. This was his job. He had asked her after proposing her for marriage if she would be able to cope with the irregularities of his job and she had replied,”you bet”. After all he had gone before, but that was different, they were not living together. The marriage had brought a change. Now she was even more in love, cared even more and was going to miss him a billion times more. She now realized how badly she was going to miss him, miss how she was greeted at the front door when she reached home, spontaneous, unexpected sweet gestures which made her incredibly happy, how they would talk for hours before finally drifting off to sleep.</span></div></div><div style="line-height: 16px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"> How was she going to manage coming home to no one? No smiling face for the next six to seven months. She sighed and cried. He turned and opened his eyes to see her sitting there with tear-stained cheeks. It took him one full minute to register what he was seeing. Then he sat up surprised. The surprise in his eyes made her laugh. He continued looking at her. “Stop it.” </span></div></div><div style="line-height: 16px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"> “Why are you crying?” he asked. She did not say anything, just looked at him and blinked. And then he realized, realized that it was him she was crying for. “Shhhhh…. It’s okay, it’s okay”, he said as he hugged her. Listening to his voice, feeling the warmth of his body, calmed her senses to a certain extent. And then she slept soundly in his arms.</span></div></div><div style="line-height: 16px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">The first rays of the morning sun beamed into the room and Aryan opened his eyes to his beautiful wife. The sun highlighted her sharp features and it took him a great amount of will power to look away from her. He didn’t want to think that she would be all alone for the next six months. He hated waking her up but he had planned things for her. His flight took off at seven in the evening and he had exactly twelve hours. “Riya?” he said softly. She gently opened her eyes, looked at him and smiled. The smile that dimpled her cheeks, the dimples which he so madly loved. God! How he wanted to stay. For the first time in his career he hated this job. For the first time he wanted a NORMAL 9-5 job. At least he could be back every evening. He would have had weekends to them. Now he was going to leave her for next six months under the care of no one.</span></div></div><div style="line-height: 16px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">“Good Morning darling” he greeted her. “Good Morning, love,” she smiled and suddenly the smile faded and the face became pale as the realization dawned. He could see that she was putting a lot of effort to look normal. Gently pulling her to him he whispered, “It’s okay. I love you and don’t you worry I’ll be back soon. We’ll get through this, sweets.” She buried her head in his shirt and wished it was actually as easy as he made it sound. Reluctantly she left him to prepare tea.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"> ******</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"><br />
</span></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"></span><br />
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">He stood there, transfixed. He wanted to move and take her in his arms and never let her go. Eight months. The scene of the same airport, eight months ago, flashed before his eyes. The same woman, with tears in her eyes and a pained expression on her face had waved him good-bye. His newly-wedded wife! It was eight months ago.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"> <u1:p></u1:p> </span><br />
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">The same woman stood there, waiting for him with the same smile that gave her dimples, dimples that he so madly loved. The spark in her eyes was back. Her big, beautiful eyes lined with a thick line of kohl. It was the eyes that had attracted him to her, five years ago. The eyes that were the prettiest in the world. The eyes which could look through your soul. The eyes which were so child-like, they could take your heart away. The smile on her face accelerated his heart-beat like it always did.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"><u1:p></u1:p> </span><br />
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">She was yet to see him. Still, she was smiling. Smiling because, she was happy beyond measures. Her husband, her love was returning. Only she knew what torture it was, living without him for eight long months. He was supposed to be gone for six months but the period extended. Every minute, every second had seemed to be an eternity.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"><u1:p></u1:p> <div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">She turned and her heart stopped beating for a second. There he stood, as handsome as ever. She pinched herself, just to make sure that this wasn’t a dream, like all other times. No, it wasn’t. He was there. Her Aryan was there. She stopped the tears with great effort and mentally chided herself. As she took a step forward, he did the same. It was difficult to believe that it was really him.<o:p></o:p></div><u1:p></u1:p> <div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">She felt safe, secure and content as he hugged her. All the fears and insecurities vanished. All the doubts that his love for her may have lessened, diminished. Every thought vanished from her mind and all she could think of was Aryan. This time, she did not stop the tears. She let them flow. She smiled. A happy, content smiled.<o:p></o:p></div><u1:p></u1:p> <div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">He hugged her a little tighter. He didn’t want to let her go. Not yet, not ever. His wife— the love of his life. Every day, every minute he had craved to see her, to touch her. To have her in his arms, like now and now she was here. With him. He couldn’t have asked for more.<o:p></o:p></div><u1:p></u1:p> <div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">Reluctantly, he released her.<o:p></o:p></div><u1:p></u1:p> <div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">They looked into each others’ eyes. They didn’t need words. The eyes, the smile, the expression and the touch did the talking. As they held hands and walked out of the airport, towards their car, he softly whispered, “<i>I Love You, Riya. You’re all I have ever wanted.”</i><o:p></o:p></div><u1:p></u1:p> <div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">She smiled as fresh tears came out. And she said,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>“I love you too and you’re all I could ever want.”</i><o:p></o:p></div><u1:p></u1:p> <div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">“Except of course a baby to complete our family.” He smiled.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmzAGl_rNO54AZ_DW-pnU7o77Ql8EDOSkap03cRB1uaSF_b4xydm2de_RS8nGwP4z0m2xacXxIaU5j7cc6BqeBb7gfher5_9SWSdOwsItwgJaBIrKyyeANCRKsb7gYUfxr_4fHq_Iw38/s1600/Together_forever_by_day_light.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmzAGl_rNO54AZ_DW-pnU7o77Ql8EDOSkap03cRB1uaSF_b4xydm2de_RS8nGwP4z0m2xacXxIaU5j7cc6BqeBb7gfher5_9SWSdOwsItwgJaBIrKyyeANCRKsb7gYUfxr_4fHq_Iw38/s320/Together_forever_by_day_light.jpg" width="232" /></a></div> </div></span></div></div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-29057517166613130472011-10-11T15:07:00.000-07:002011-10-11T15:07:28.205-07:00Kaun Banega Crorepati, Junior!?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>With three days to go for the mid-semester exams, I should ideally be studying right now. But then, I remembered an incident from my childhood and I have to, have to, completely have to tell you about it. Okay, well, I never really forgot about it.</i></b><br />
<b> </b><br />
<b>We were in the fourth standard then, the year was 2002 and that was the year when KBC, Junior had started and all the kids were very, very excited to participate and win huge amount of money which until then was won by those adults.So, now we got a chance to prove <i>''hum kisi se kam nahi''</i>. </b><br />
<b> </b><br />
<b>How old was I? Eleven and a half. I really, really, desperately wanted to participate and WIN. Like, this was the dream I was living for. Like, this was the only thing which kept me going. Like, once this goal was achieved, I could die, peacefully. So, the day the phone lines opened and the questions were asked, I started calling. Like, a million times a day. But God didn't listen to me. Naturally. </b><br />
<b> </b><br />
<b>It was raining heavily that day. Cats and dogs. Isn't this what they say? I came back from the school and attacked the phone. I tried and tried and tried and finally the call did connect. As soon as the recorded voice asked me to wait for a real person to take over the phone the phone line went dead. Imagine! I had been trying and trying so hard for this day and just when I was about to reach my destination the phone went dead. I cursed and cursed a little more. Okay. I did not curse. I cried. A lot. Ten days. That's for how long my phone remained *dead*!</b><br />
<b> </b><br />
<b>It was the science class. Science, my favourite subject, back then. Yes, I was smart when I was younger. My teacher asked a question in the class and needless to say, I was the only one who knew the answer. I mentally patted myself and won an appreciative look from my teacher after I gave the correct answer. Well, when the period was about to end, the teacher asked me if I had tried for the KBC, Junior thingy.! Yes, she rubbed salt on my wounds. Something got into me and I said: "Yes ma'am! Just last night I recieved a call from those people and they have called me for the shooting." </b><br />
<b> </b><br />
<b>Yes, you guessed it right. I became the star of the class. Instantly. Everybody was excited. As it wasn't me but they who had been selected. Well, it wasn't even me but only I knew that. I enjoyed every bit of attention, I got. I was even given gifts. </b><br />
<b> </b><br />
<b>Co-incidentally, one of my cousins was getting engaged that very month and we had to go to Delhi. That is the time I told my class-mates and my class-teacher that I was going for the shooting.</b><br />
<b> </b><br />
<b>*Guess, who got through the fastest-finger-first! Yes, that was me. And guess, how much I won. Twenty-five lakhs!*</b><br />
<b> </b><br />
<b>So I came back from the shooting (engagement) and informed everyone at school about my *success*! and every single person was oh-so-happy. The news reached the principal and she announced it infront of the entire school. The junior and the senior wing both had one common assembly that day. Courtesy: ME! And, I was given a Dairy Milk. Crackle it was, I guess. </b><br />
<b>Everyone was asking me as to when will the episode be aired and I gave them one random date. 16th June, it was. </b><br />
<b> </b><br />
<b>I was smart, but not <i>that </i>smart. It didn't strike me that: </b><br />
<b>1. A cousin was in the senior wing of the school.</b><br />
<b>2. The show would never be aired.</b><br />
<b>3. There was no *Amitabh Bachhan* signed certificate with me which everyone wanted to see.</b><br />
<b> </b><br />
<b>As I told you, I was enjoying all the attention and pampering at school. One day I returned home, happy and content. As soon as I entered the house, I heard Ma talking to someone over phone. She was saying, ''<i>Nahi, aisa kuch bhi nahi hai. Arre, mai baat karti hu usse.. aane dijiye usko.'' </i>What happened next is history. Next day, I was accompanied by Ma. The principal had changed and the new one had no idea about my *small* prank. Anyway, Ma had a *small* talk with my class-teacher and I apologised to the entire class and the junior wing. <i>O</i>h God, the humliation. Even today, I shudder when I think about that day. Today, everybody laughs at this stupidity of mine. Back then I was almost hated. *shudders*</b><br />
<b><i> </i></b><br />
<b><i>P.S.: The principal who gave me that Dairy Milk is the principal of my school again. She still thinks that I am a genius and I had won Twenty-five lakh rupees in 2002. </i></b><br />
<b><i>P.P.S: See you after my mid-semester exams. Don't know what I'll write when I am clueless about the syllabus of two out of five subjects.</i></b><br />
<b><i> </i></b><br />
<b>The work above is true in all repect. I was one smart and stupid at the same time girl!</b><br />
<b>Also, I need best wishes. Coz I haven't studied a bit. Hope your wishes help! </b></div></div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-53902502280952589022011-10-10T08:37:00.000-07:002011-10-10T08:37:44.194-07:00Gazals and Jagjit Singh<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><i>::Hothon se choo lo tum, mera geet amar kar do:: </i><i>::Chithhi na koi sandes, jaane woh kon sa des jahan tum chale gaye:: </i>many more. Gazals which once heard, are hummed for a long, long time. Ever since, I started understanding songs, ever since, I started listening to the lyrics of the songs and ever since I came out of the obsession for songs which were nothing but meaningless shouting, I have been a huge fan of these meaningful, heart-touching gazals. The man himself, Jagjit Singh.<br />
I was still a kid when I had first heard one of the gazals by Jagjit Singh. At that time, I had labelled it as one of those songs which could be used as a lullaby. Now, if you ask me, I'd prefer one of the gazals to those stupid, bollywood songs.<br />
Every gazal that he has sung. Every sentence, every word of those gazals strike a chord. Soothing and meaningful. Words you can connect to.<br />
Jagjit Singh was a gem. His absence, I am sure, will be greatly felt. He sure will live through his gazals. </div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-13286370259138078892011-10-05T08:42:00.000-07:002011-10-05T12:44:39.095-07:00Love You-- till Eternity!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I am basically a romantic at heart. Crazy about love. Love in any form is the most beautiful thing in the whole, entire world for me. Love is the solution to all the problems that ever existed in the world. If you love someone you can bring him back from dead. Yes, That is how much of belief I have in Love. Ain't love the most beautiful feeling ever? Love of a man and a woman, is not the only kind of love I am talking about here. Love in every form of existence. It is how you love your mom, your dad, your family, you dog, your pets, your friends or for that matter anyone.<br />
I'll tell you a story. It's a story of a boy and a girl. A real story. There is nothing extraordinary about it but everything about it is special. It is NOT my story but it is the story of two people I love and well, who love each other. Truly, madly, deeply, Totally!<br />
You must have heard people fall in love. When they haven't met each other. Haven't even seen each other.. It's the voice, most of the times. But what happens when you hear something About Him/Her and fall in love. These people fell in love in the exact same way and well, that love is for, forever!<br />
He loved her ever since he heard about her. Something told him that she was the person. That no one, absolutely no one can ever affect him the way she had. She knew there was something different about him. Only she did not know, What! And then after three years of little somthings, small talks, friendship, fights and meeting each other for quite a few times, they realised that it was LOVE. Pure, unadulterated Love.<br />
You know what happened when he first saw her? After months of loving her without even a glimpse of her, he was mesmerized. Mesmerized by her eyes, her face, her smile and her nose. He knew at the moment that she was everything he could have ever wanted, ever wished for. More than that!<br />
She fell in love with his simplicity, the way he took care of her every wish. Everything.<br />
She falls ill. He falls ill. She is sad. He gets sad. If she doesn't wake him up, he gets sad! If she doesn't eat, he skips his meal.<br />
Everytime they meet, their faces glow with happiness. People say long-distance relationships don't work. They do. I have the proof. They are so happy together that it makes people want to fall in love.<br />
They are so, so, so much in love, it makes me want to fall in love. Sometimes it makes me feel jealous. Sometimes I wonder how can two people love each other so much.<br />
*Awe*<br />
God Bless them! :) :)</div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-69548175368070437662011-09-27T09:07:00.000-07:002011-09-27T09:07:25.837-07:00Mirror<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I saw her sitting on the stairs of the hostel. I wondered what she was doing there, in the middle of the night. From where I was standing, I could see her face. She smiled to herself. It was not a happy one. It was a smile of sheer frustration and sorrow. If you thought only tears could move you, you were wrong. Sometimes a smile reflects the sorrow better than a hundred tears. I wondered if I should go and ask her what bothered her, but would she tell her problem to a complete stranger? I took another step towards her. Oblivious of someone watching her, she moved further towards the wall and just when I was about to call out to her, a tear trickled down her cheeks. I decided to ask her what her what the problem was. <div>I went and sat next to her. </div><div>"Are you all right?" I asked.</div><div>She looked at me for the first time, smiled and nodded. It was the same smile. One of pure sorrow, and this time there was something else. Regret. The face had a pained expression. She seemed lost and confused. Her eyes took my heart away. They were so melancholic that it brought tears to my eyes. I felt lost and helpless and I still had no clue what was going on.</div><div>"What's wrong?" I asked softly.</div><div>She looked at me while tears filled her eyes once again. She started softly. I had to strain my ears to hear what she was saying.It was, as if, she was talking to herself.</div><div>"Have you ever lost a friend who was so much more than a friend?" she asked me and without waiting for a reply, continued.</div><div>"I have. Not one. But two. And the sad part is, I cannot blame anyone for it." she laughed and it sent shivers down my spine.</div><div>"And the sad part is, I don't have clue as to what exactly they think about me. Hate me? What? I hope things get back to normal.I swear to God that this time nothing will go wrong. I will not let anything go wrong this time." </div><div>I smiled and moved away from the mirror. </div></div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-34778751097223532072011-09-13T16:30:00.000-07:002011-09-13T16:30:37.837-07:00umm..err...something..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Caution: A lot of blabbering in this post. Read at your own risk.<br />
<br />
I am so sleepy, you'd think I haven't slept for days. The truth is I slept for eighteen hours straight. Probably, that's the reason I am feeling so sleepy right now. Excess of anything is bad, eh? I have college in the morning and I cannot afford to miss it... (I already missed it yesterday).<br />
I am feeling very, very, extremely sleepy right now. Never mind, I'll sleep in the class.<br />
What do you call a person, who hates spending money without any genuine reason but still does? Is there even a word for such a person? I guess not. Or probably is. Anyway, the point of asking this question is to let you know in a very subtle way, that I belong to that category. It wasn't subtle, huh? Damn.<br />
Two birthdays coming this weekend. What do I do? I am broke. Like, completely. Plus, my ATM card is not working. I mean, seriously. Why does God have to play such funny games with me, which by the way are NOT funny to me.<br />
I got really senti this evening, no? Don't worry, that was right after I got up after my eighteen hours of sleep. Happens.<br />
Anyway, Ideas needed. No. Not the SIM cards. Real Ideas. Okay, don't kill me for my Poor Pathetic Jokes and my <strike>senceofhumour</strike> sense of humour but I warned you in the very beginning that this post can be dangerous to health. And, I didn't know someone actually reads my posts. You do? Well, let me know. Post a comment. Two minutes. That's the maximum it'll take.<br />
I really do get diverted, don't I? Sorry. Now, Ideas. Please. No Money. Two Birthdays. Unavoidable. What do I do? And, I have been invited to both the parties. I can't go without any gifts, can I? Well, actually I can. But I shouldn't.<br />
Arrey, I feel sad! I can't write about serious issues. I don't know what's going on in the world. Well, maybe some vague idea but nothing concrete. People keep asking me why I am so Self-Obsessed. I can't discuss Nuclear Science or for that matter Rocket Science here. And, I don't want to discuss Sonia Gandhi or Rahul Gandhi or Manmohan Singh for that matter. So, it is just me.<br />
I am very insecure. Please, tell me that I write awesome. I feel good when I hear good things about myself which is so rare, I don't remember the last time I felt good.<br />
The exams are approaching. The bad news no.1 is I may get debarred since my attendance is low. The bad news number two is I haven't started studying yet. The good news is, well, there's no good news actually.<br />
The drama club that I am in, is going to perform at two places, IIT-Roorkee and BITS Pilani-Goa Campus. Now someone needs to tell me what role I am playing in it. There has to be something. Maybe.<br />
I have started sleeping more in the classes. 1. I don't attend enough classes. 2. The teacher only sees my face when he is taking the attendance. Otherwise I am always sleeping. I will probably flunk this time.<br />
People in my batch think that I am dating my friend. A guy, of course. Wow. I am finally the hot topic of discussion. Well, it probably is him. Anyway, bad publicity. Me not liking it.<br />
My crush still doesn't know my name, yet! I know, bad. But three months and then I'll be HIS crush! Hah! I know, I said the same thing last month too, but this time you'll see! ;)<br />
It is five in the morning. I don't how, but I will have to get up by eight. Three hours. After eighteen, three seems to be a blink!<br />
Good Night. Good Morning, whatever.<br />
Bye.<br />
P.S.: Don't forget about the ideas. Do something. Before Saturday. Thank you. Love you. :*<br />
Comment!<br />
P.P.S: Ignore my pathetic sense of humour, bad grammar, wrong spellings,etc.<br />
P.P.P.S: My room-mate just shouted at me. She is asking me to 'shut the god-damn laptop', so off I go.<br />
</div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-67412947463051546672011-09-13T08:20:00.000-07:002011-09-13T08:22:34.692-07:00Life as We Know IT...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232;">WARNING: Emotional Stuff. Read at your own risk</span></b><br />
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232;">I now know that Law and Me weren't meant for each other. That it was only attraction and not love. That it was a mistake. WE were a mistake. A mistake which I can never rectify.</span><br />
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232;">This place is another thing which was never meant to be right for me. The people here can never be mine. Everything is farce. You've heard that saying, 'All that glitters is not gold', right? I never paid attention to it. I know, My Mistake. I should have thought a little longer. I should have waited a little longer. </span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232;">Mean and Selfish is how I'll term the people here. Not to mention Materialistic. I am no saint. But the people here are a notch higher. Everything for them revolves around 'ME'. </span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232;">How I wish now, I had never chosen law as a career. How I wish now that I had never come to this godforsaken place. </span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232;">Thirteen months and I am still waiting for my life to get back on track. For me life was never easy but it was never this difficult. Everyday is a new challenge. It takes every once of courage to prepare myself for the college. College gives you exposure. Yes. It shows you how weird, selfish, self-centered and totally unpredictable people are. </span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232;">Attachment is a bad thing. You should never, never, EVER get attached to people. Coz, it is YOU who'll get hurt. Personal Experience. When people say you're their priority, they mean you're their priority till the time there comes in their life, something better. Priorities change. Life is not always the bed of roses you imagine it to be. I learnt it the hard way. </span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232;">For once when I thought that life has finally changed, for better and then BOOM, the illusion is broken. Yes, I know, I assume a lot. For example, I assume that my love and care for certain people is reciprocated back, that I mean some thing in certain people's lives and that is the reason when assumptions break it Hurts! </span></div>
</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232;">Too much ho gaya na? ;)</span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div>
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232;">Listening to: Numb</span></i></div>
<div>
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232;">Feeling: Numb</span></i></div>
</div>
Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-17937821545656011002011-08-13T06:21:00.000-07:002011-08-13T06:23:48.519-07:00Leaving Home.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">As I write this, a lot of things are going on in my head which is aching. I am leaving for Dehra Dun tomorrow, early morning. And you're no genius if you think I am sad. I am devastated. I don't want to go back but then I also want to go back. It was fun staying at home, doing nothing except reading, sleeping, eating, watching crap on Television, irritating Mom, becoming a total loafer with friends and going for long walks with Dad. The only non-fun part was putting on tonnes of weight. But that's excusable. It not that I have a boyfriend who's gonna complain about my weight. But wait. This can.... Aah, forget it.<br />
These three months have been totally awesome. My wish was my parents' command. I just had to say and it was done. I have had a lot of fights with Mum in these three months. "Go back to your hostel and don't come back." She had said once. Now, when I am finally going, packing my bags and stuff, she is crying her heart out and it kills me to see her cry. Dad on the other hand, is quiet; not saying a word.<br />
I don't wanna go. No. No. NOoooooooooooo!!!<br />
Although I'll be back in October for a week. Still. I am gonna miss mum and dad, my brother, my sister cum devil and her daughter, who's kept me on my toes, the entire vacation, not to mention my super cool <i>jiju.</i><br />
Life in Dehra Dun is fun, without a doubt and there's no one to keep a check on me and I totally enjoy my life there but life at home is fun too. I now understand why my Di cried everytime she left for hostel.<br />
Forgive me for writing I dunno what. I am not emotionally stable right now so the writing has gone a little weird or whatever.<br />
I have fever, cold and severe body ache. All I want to do right now, is sleep but I have packing to do. I can't postpone it anymore.<br />
I am a very emotional person and sometimes very expressive but I am not expressive enough today. I can't tell Mum that I am gonna miss her. That every time I get up late in the morning, I will be expecting someone to shout at me, that every time I eat, I'll miss the food she cooks.<br />
Oh No. This is making me cry so I better stop. </div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-87163913308442704042011-08-06T02:39:00.000-07:002011-08-06T04:18:25.688-07:00I'm Not Twenty Four...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggDfS5BjVLqrNiK5jgFmyccUpoKFMWlcYHP1Z0t6fjpW1cMQ6oS7XTHKb5B1SWGuaF41XMfjeEkHF1IKyTmVRacrsmVdyhny8Fs6N-x20dq5cvb7q4gDippIG79lPqnBEdrPlnhYQ4Quc/s1600/10322314.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggDfS5BjVLqrNiK5jgFmyccUpoKFMWlcYHP1Z0t6fjpW1cMQ6oS7XTHKb5B1SWGuaF41XMfjeEkHF1IKyTmVRacrsmVdyhny8Fs6N-x20dq5cvb7q4gDippIG79lPqnBEdrPlnhYQ4Quc/s320/10322314.jpg" width="206" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">*This book will be enjoyed by all* -Times of India</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">*A must read* - Red FM</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">*Check it out* -MTV</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">Am I here to review the book? Am I here to criticise the book? No. I am here to tell you how awesome this book is. The book was out in September,2010 and I read it now. In August, 2011 and had I not read it, I seriously would have missed reading a masterpiece. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">The story is about a typical city girl, Saumya, who's placed with a leading company in a small town in Northern Karnataka, Toranagallu. Her life changes drastically. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">*How does a typical city girl, born and brought up in Delhi survive in a small town of Karnataka?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">**What happens when she finds that the work she is doing will have an emotional effect on her?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">***What happens when she meets an Indian hippie who stays at a place for three months and then leaves and falls in love with him?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">****How does she cope with the loss of a friend?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">Honestly, after I read the book I was left speechless. If you didn't know that the author is a guy, you'd never believe that the author IS a guy after you've read the book. No double meanings. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">The narration is by the female protagonist, Saumya. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">There is not one small point where the reader will get bored. The story is as interesting as it can get. It has everything that it should have. Beautifully written, awesome story-line, one of a kind. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">Hats off to Sachin Garg. Trust me, it is the best that I've read by an Indian author! </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">So all you people out there who read this blog of mine and have not read the book yet, go grab a copy. And, you'll get it at a discount on Flipkart.com </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">Here's the link:</span> <a href="http://www.flipkart.com/books/9380349213?_l=CJHVEqJO3veuHytbACc9dw--&_r=Lbz3Xy7QdGEHDhFUAKD3ew--&ref=7f58af39-a537-413b-ad09-947d83953d08&pid=it33f9nqrh">http://www.flipkart.com/books/9380349213?_l=CJHVEqJO3veuHytbACc9dw--&_r=Lbz3Xy7QdGEHDhFUAKD3ew--&ref=7f58af39-a537-413b-ad09-947d83953d08&pid=it33f9nqrh</a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">P.S.: I would have given you my copy to read but then I believe this is one of those books which you must, MUST have. So buy it and I promise you'll love it. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">For those who've read it, let me know what you thought about it! :)</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-48630374164902208512011-08-03T14:32:00.000-07:002011-10-28T11:40:17.553-07:00Just Another Woman<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">She looked at him. Her eyes pleading with him. With quivering lips and a voice unknown to herself she asked him to stop. He did not. With one look at her, he walked out of the small house. She knew he'd come again. The darkness will bring him back but she also knew that the morning light will take him away from her. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">The sun shone brightly outside. She felt the mocking rays on her skin. It was light outside. It was darkness which engulfed her. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">Rolling over to the other side of the bed, she took in the faint smell of his lingering perfume and tears welled into her eyes. She couldn't face him. She couldn't look into his eyes and behave normally. Like a normal secretary. Like whatever happened between them was nothing but an illusion created in her mind. She couldn't look into those blue eyes and pretend to be happy. She had promised herself that she'd never fall for him. All along she knew that this wasn't real. That whatever happened was for 'fun' and nothing was serious. But her heart didn't understand. Never will.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">As she parked her car, another car pulled in beside her. The woman in the next car smiled warmly at her. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">Her intercom rang as soon as she sat on the chair. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">"Kriti, please come in." He said and her heart skipped a beat. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">With apprehension in her eyes and expectations in her heart, she moved towards his cabin. She knocked on the door and entered. Inside was the same woman she had met in the parking area. She was still smiling but this time the smile was not for her. It was for the man who was reciprocating with equal warmth, who had yet not noticed her entry, who was different from the man who had spent the night with her. She cleared her throat and both of them looked up.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">"Yes, Kriti. Please cancel the meeting scheduled for today. I am taking Riya for shopping. And, let me introduce you to my gorgeous fiancee." he said carelessly. The woman smiled at her. She could not smile back. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">As if on auto-pilot, she nodded and left the room. Not once did he care to look at her. His voice echoed in her brain. He was engaged. He was no longer hers. "Stop fooling yourself. When was he ever yours?" a voice asked her. The morning light won't take him away from her because the darkness won't bring him to her. Ever. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">She knocked at his cabin door clutching tightly the envelope in her hands. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">"Come in." came his voice.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">The grip on the envelope got tighter as she entered the cabin. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">"It was a pleasure working for you, sir, but I am afraid I will have to resign as a better opportunity awaits me." She said in a surprisingly calm voice, placed the envelope which had her resignation letter and turned to leave the room without waiting for his answer.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">She'd seen from the corner of her eyes that he was shocked but she couldn't dare to look him in his eyes. She was afraid she'd tell him she loved him and she had more self-respect than that.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">Not once did he try to stop her. She loved him. She also knew that this love was for forever. But she also knew that all along she had been </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">just another woman.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"> With a shattered heart but a head held high she walked out of the office, never to return. </span></div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700096597234197141.post-34899227104798821122011-07-30T16:48:00.000-07:002011-10-28T11:43:31.278-07:00Grudges... grrr...!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Up until a few days back, I was supposed to be satisfied with what I have. Now, I am all grumpy and dissatisfied. Don't give me those looks. I am human and I am no stoic. Things do affect me and I am sad right now. Like, really, really, really sad. I hold a lot of grudges. I am very jealous of a lot of people. And no, I have no problem admitting that. Giving me those 'she-is-mad' looks again, are you? Well, I can't help it. It's 4:49 in the morning and I should have been blissfully asleep, dreaming something romantic, like maybe, being kissed. A friend asked me today, "Being kissed is sooo important to you?" Of course he wouldn't understand. He is not the one who's been in a relationship for three long years and met the boyfriend just thrice and never been kissed. I am the one. So yes, it is a big deal. No more discussions on it. Period. And worst, I am single again! Duh, this is so depressing, innit?<br />
Well, no, this ain't the biggest grudge I have. There are more.<br />
#Why can't I dance, like Shakira? Forget it. Why can't I dance at all?<br />
#Why is it only me who thinks I can sing well? Damn, even my boyfriend (read ex), thought I was horrible. I know, I know. Totally unromantic. :|<br />
#Why am I not a size zero. Well, no. I wouldn't want a size zero but I sure would like to shed a few tonnes. Just kidding. A few kgs will do. You didn't really think I weighed some hundred tonnes. *gasps*<br />
# Why am I NOT witty? Damn. It irritates me like hell. I always get the right reply after a few hours. Daaahhhh...<br />
#Where the hell was I when God was giving people 'sense of humour'? I must have been 'Facebooking'!<br />
#Why am I NOT a topper? No forget it. I don't want to be a topper. Yeah, yeah. Sour Grapes.<br />
# Why isn't my hair naturally straight? Seriously. Frizzy, unmanageable hair is so not cool.<br />
#Why the hell did my straightener burn? :( I miss it. R.I.P though.<br />
#Why am I SO lazy? Now, this is a question everyone asks me. Well, it comes Naturally. I don't have to try.<br />
#Why does the guy I have a crush on considers me 'just a friend' ? I mean, Seriously. Haven't I given enough hints.<br />
#Why can I not use Photoshop? Don't ask me to learn to do it. I have tried, like a zillion times. I guess, I am destined to look ugly, even in my pictures. =(<br />
#Why don't people follow my blog or comment on my posts? Don't tell me, 'Because sweetie, you don't write well enough.' Oh please don't say that. It's the only thing I think I can do well. Even if it's a bubble, don't burst it. Thank you.<br />
Has anyone ever read my blog? Come on! Let me know that I don't write to walls. Thank you so much! I think I should hit the sack now. It is already light outside and I can hear the birds.<br />
<br />
Time: 05:14 a.m.<br />
Mood: Frustrated<br />
Listening to: Morning after Dark by Timbaland<br />
Looking forward to: September<br />
<br />
</div>Anuranjanihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708595304236247614noreply@blogger.com4