tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71978536462317512382024-02-07T12:12:44.886-08:00Reviews & ReminiscenceI blog to remember...Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-25135154684074489102014-01-26T08:53:00.003-08:002014-01-26T08:53:41.249-08:00Today is Special<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A faint orange glow<br />from her broken window<br />She gets up, says a prayer,<br />smiles at her little palms<br />And decides to try something<br />new with her hair<br />
<br />Neatly partitioned in the centre,<br />Two slim french braids.<br />Just like the girl<br />from the movie theatre.<br />It takes her longer<br />to get ready for school.<br />She irons out her brother's<br />uniform before her pinafore.<br />But the braids are important.<br />The popular girls<br />will finally notice her.<br />
<br />A quick kiss on mother's cheek,<br />she strides out with her bicycle.<br />Today, she is leading her class assembly.<br />
<br />Today is special.<br />There is a raatraani tree on her way.<br />She picks the fallen flowers,<br />still fresh, fragrant and moist,<br />And begins to arrange them in her braid.<br />
<br />"Hi, beautiful", someone calls from ahead.<br />She hadn't noticed the cycles parked<br />A little way off until just now.<br />She doesn't like the voice.<br />It makes the word sound cursed.<br />
<br />Laughter follows as she whirls around<br />to get back to her cycle. Her safety.<br />But they catch up with her.<br />She knows some of them.<br />That boy with the cut lip,<br />he works in the city.<br />His brother is in her class.<br />They smile at her.<br />She knows it isn't a good smile.<br />
<br />She pretends they aren't there<br />and continues to walk on.<br />Her mother taught her<br />to ignore such men.<br />
<br />One of them asks if she is<br />uncomfortable in her dress.<br />Should he help her out of it?<br />She wants to cry<br />But she walks.<br />
<br />As she gets on to her safety,<br />the city-boy says to the others - his whore<br />puts raatrani in her hair.<br />
<br />Pedaling on as fast<br />as her legs can carry,<br />she doesn't dare look back.<br />In her frenzy to get the flowers<br />out of her hair, her braids<br />come undone.<br />
<br />She must stop crying before<br />she reaches school.<br />She has an assembly to lead.</div>
Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-36947895124902601342014-01-25T00:54:00.000-08:002014-01-26T09:34:02.824-08:00Right to dignity<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<em>(This post is a reaction to: </em><a href="http://www.hindustantimes.com/india-news/20-yr-old-tribal-girl-gang-raped-by-12-men-on-khap-orders-in-bengal/article1-1175776.aspx"><em>http://www.hindustantimes.com/india-news/20-yr-old-tribal-girl-gang-raped-by-12-men-on-khap-orders-in-bengal/article1-1175776.aspx</em></a><em> but consider this as more than just that. It is a sincere appeal to every woman)</em><br />
<br />
Right to dignity<br />
Right to my own goddamn body. Right to choose. Right to refuse. Right to emotion.<br />
<br />
You have no right over me. No right to make any decision over the use of my body. I am a human being, you know. Not a home appliance.<br />
<br />
Safe in my home, i don't have to think of these things. I take my freedom as a given, as a fundamental right - as it should be. But in the very country i live in, the very state, the very city, the very locality, the very neighbourhood, there are women who don't have that liberty. The freedom that is my everyday life.<br />
Without realizing that i have done so, i have acknowledged certain boundaries to my freedom - certain unfair boundaries. Those which include wearing only a certain length of clothes, not travelling alone, not venturing in certain lanes. Minor hold-ups. Occasionally relaxed limits.<br />
<br />
Do i ever worry of being molested? Of being cornered, of being raped, and spat out in some gutter? Mostly, I worry about mundane things.<br />
But there are times - alone in a lane just opposite my building, in a rickshaw, in a bus, in a train - if a stranger stares at me, doesn't look away, i want to cry. I've become slightly bolder now. Stronger, even. But not strong enough - because i am not indifferent. It is not possible to be indifferent.<br />
<br />
I have decided to learn self-defence in earnest. If i want to defend women in my country, i want to be able to defend myself. I want to never be scared of a man.<br />
<br />
I want to defend the women in my country. I want every man to know that he would not be alive if not for a woman. I want every woman to know that, too. Know that she is powerful. Know that, if she decides to, there is nothing that she cannot do. Know that together, we can demolish all these khaps, skin alive all those men who have false notions of power. Together, we can put the fear of - not God - of women, of Maa Kaali, of Durga, in men. Stand up when you see injustice to a woman. Fight.<br />
<br />
All men fear women. Some fools try to subdue, they try to scare us into submission. Lets show them we can break more than just their bones, more than just their hearts - we can break their lives, their pride, their ego, their will to live.<br />
<br />
Women are disadvantaged not because we are less able, we are disadvantaged for two reasons -<br />
<br />
First, men fear our brilliance - our potential energy to take over their whole lives. So they keep us in the dark for as much as they can.<br />
<br />
Second, more important, more devastating and far more damaging -<br />
We, women, don't stand up for each other.<br />
<br />
The gang-rape wouldn't have happened if the women in the village stood as one to protect the girl. I said this to a male friend and it broke my heart when he said - what could the women do? This attitude. This thinking that women can't do anything. I can burn you alive, you idiot. The men wouldn't have dared to even touch a woman, let alone slap her, if every woman of the village refused to take bullshit from them.<br />
<br />
The problem is, men are so scared of us, and we are so comfortably ignorant of our own powers, they haven't allowed us to realise what we are truly capable of.<br />
<br />
Know this - nobody is allowed to even touch you without your permission. You can file an assault case on those grounds. Know your rights. And stand up for all the women around you. We talk of an anti-corruption revolution taking over the country. We need a women's revolution - an assertion of our rights, our demands. Lets fight for laws empowering women. I deserve respect - and if you don't give it to me, i will throttle you, choke you, till your eyes bulge out of their sockets, till your face is bursting with blood, till you cry to me for sparing your dear life. But i will have my respect.<br />
<br />
Women of the country, lets do something. You, reading this at home or at work, under the pseudo sense of safety, you are as affected by the atrocities of backward, less-than-human, vile and lecherous men who don't deserve to live, as the innocent girl who took a crowded bus this morning and was groped, as the woman who was raped and then killed, as the woman who was stripped and gang-raped in public by low-lifes, as the woman who gets beaten up in the enclosure of a place she must call her home. We are all the same. Lets stand as one. Defend our own.<br />
<br />
I want to live in a place where i know for a fact that if i raise my voice against a low-life mistreating me, i will have immediate support of all the women around me at that very moment. Is that too much to ask for?</div>
Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-81584715817404635562013-12-22T11:22:00.000-08:002014-01-07T05:06:28.605-08:00Perception<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Every person knows me differently.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some think I am a sweetheart – the nicest person they know</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some think I am so mean that they make faces at me and go.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">There are some who look forward to meeting me</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">There are others who’d rather not see me.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">To some, I am spontaneous, impulsive, happy and bright</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some others, they say they haven’t seen a girl more uptight.</span></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Every person knows me differently.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some say my life is similar to theirs</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some say they count me in their prayers.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some shower me with attention, some idolize</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some feign incomprehension, some criticize.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some think I’m a Punjabi, hence very strong</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some know that the stereotype is so very wrong.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">You know me like a mother knows her child.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Not strong or weak, not good or bad,</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Not beautiful or ugly, not happy or sad.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">You know me, simply, as yours - a part of you.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Like there is nothing unknown between me and you.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">You know me like the sea knows the sand.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">You know me like the back of your hand.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">With you, I don’t have to be any person in particular.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can be a headstrong feminist with progressive views,</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Or I can be a princess who needs to buy too many shoes.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can be dirty and disgusting; or I can be sexy and clean.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can behave however I want – decent or outright mean.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I could smile like a doe or I could frown like a monkey</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Y</span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">ou will still caress my cheek and tell me I am pretty.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is not easy to be with you - I have to be myself.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">All that practice of having to live up to expectations,</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Being nice with the nice ones; smart with the sly ones</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Pretense comes easier to me than just letting myself be.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When you walk towards me, it is the reason I can’t breathe.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Because standing across you, I am nobody else, but me.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">With your unflinching gaze – there is nothing you don’t see.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Emotions come crashing in bursts of hysteria and madness.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As though a massive dam guarding my energies was just bombed,</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Every bone in me knows - for this breakdown my heart had yearned.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As my tears surreptitiously seep through the fibers in your jacket,</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">They seem to dissolve my ego - that cheap, sugar-coated packet.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The feeble walls that hold my pretentiously steadfast resolves</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Crumble and tumble, leaving me no choice but to face my flaws.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Each time you amble into my safe-house, you make room inside.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">You de-clutter, you sanitize and you clear it up for good measure.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">That’s not all. Each time, you leave behind a sparkly new treasure.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">You pin-point, you nit-pick, you taunt, you laugh and you tease</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And in a fit of giggles, I bask in the attention as you try to appease.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My heart still stops in that moment; but from then on, it is quite easy</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am finding myself with you because that’s who you want me to be.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
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Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-62266006574425884312013-12-04T10:12:00.001-08:002013-12-04T10:13:39.673-08:00Let's make it count<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
What makes life good?<br />
What makes you smile?<br />
What matters the most to you?<br />
What makes your heart yearn?<br />
<br />
A reason to go that extra mile<br />
A reason to stop and smell the roses<br />
A reason to wake up happy and bright<br />
A reason to cry and a reason to smile<br />
<br />
A cause to believe in<br />
A voice to heed to<br />
A peak to reach<br />
A path to meander in<br />
<br />
A pillar for support<br />
A boost of self-confidence<br />
A shoulder to cry on<br />
A stomach to punch.<br />
<br />
There is passion worth vying for<br />
A belief worth dying for.<br />
You get but one life<br />
Live for something worth the strife.<br />
<br />
<br />
- Wannabe Wayfarer<br />
(i don't write poetry)</div>
Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-62327496161456332812013-10-22T13:50:00.002-07:002014-03-30T21:29:40.922-07:00My Day of Love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For a long while, I only saw the back of his head and
sometimes, if I was lucky, a side-face. We sat on diagonally opposite ends of
the same classroom. He was the dreamy front-bencher and I was the participative
back-bencher. I used to observe him quite intently even before we started
talking. I noticed that he doodled a lot. He’d always be scribbling or
sketching in his notebook, never looking up from his desk, not even to
acknowledge the professor’s presence. There was always a pair of earphones
nicely hidden behind his long and shabby hair. I thought he was genuinely cool.
When we first saw each other face-to-face, I tried so hard to make an
impression, he confesses now that he disliked me then.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The year our paths crossed was the same year we chose to
walk different ways. He moved to another city and I got busy trying to make
money. The first time we really met, just the both of us, was the night before
he was to leave Mumbai. We shared paani puri and awkward silence. But by the
time we were to say goodbye (with an awkward shake of hands), I was hoping with
all my heart that he’d stick around for just a little bit longer.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That was four years ago. He did stick around. With subtle
gestures, harmless prods and seemingly inconsequential nudges, one at a time,
patiently, diligently, he made room for himself in my cluttered heart. And he’s
made it clear – he is here to stay. I don’t know exactly how or when it
happened; maybe it had started from the day I first saw the back of his head,
maybe it had started way before time itself or maybe, like a <a href="http://www.preciousplatinum.in/en/about-platinum/platinum-day-of-love" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">platinum love band</span></a>, it simply has no start and no end. We were, we are and we will be.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There is warmth in him, a comfort in his presence. We’re
wound up in each other – we couldn’t keep away even if we tried (and we have
tried). They say that you’re nobody till somebody loves you. He believes in me
– and that gives me strength beyond all else. He can see through my pretenses and he can break through my walls – I
am most vulnerable when I am with him. I am also most protected when I am with
him; he guards me fiercely.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Every moment with him is my wondrous <a href="http://www.preciousplatinum.in/en/about-platinum/platinum-day-of-love" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">day of love</span></a> – an
eternity, a legend. I fall in love with him all over again, every day.
Sometimes, it’s in the moment where we make up after a fight, because of the
falsetto he talks in when pleading with me to forgive him. Other times, when I
don’t see him for months, it’s while watching the sun set over the sea; the beautiful
memory of our first sun set together washes over me as the sun reflects a
million sparkling diamonds. And every morning when I wake up, I know that there
is no morning that will ever match up to our first sunrise together. Most
ferociously, it is in those tiny moments that we share – when he walks towards
me and the closer we get the harder it gets for me to breathe, when he looks at
me with a fire in his eyes and my heart stops beating, when I look away and he
softens his gaze, when he kisses my forehead and when my smile lights up his
face.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Vivek and I celebrate 19<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> September, the day of
our first kiss, as <a href="http://www.preciousplatinum.in/en/about-platinum/platinum-day-of-love" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">our day of love</span></a>. He kissed me on my forehead on a railway
station moments before he took off for Delhi. He lives in Pune now, and we meet
off and on. We fight about almost everything and are constantly planning for
the zombie apocalypse, among other things like our bedroom wall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWU6yj_N-2tUmtvN6sk_i0LPZZGjl8ERGDX8LCbn5Sw4f9oDt8rRbwBOWBJ9gvvTm3ntazwVu3cpiwyDTj5OctHhVFWL-ckNtczQ6nPhDOxDmmLtsJsP7Cq-HWlCVQJBBgClK-4usZ7do/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWU6yj_N-2tUmtvN6sk_i0LPZZGjl8ERGDX8LCbn5Sw4f9oDt8rRbwBOWBJ9gvvTm3ntazwVu3cpiwyDTj5OctHhVFWL-ckNtczQ6nPhDOxDmmLtsJsP7Cq-HWlCVQJBBgClK-4usZ7do/s320/2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Glad i finally wrote about us,</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Thanks to <a href="http://www.indiblogger.in/topic.php?topic=90" target="_blank"><span style="color: purple;">preciousplatinum.in & Indiblogger</span></a> for this motivation!</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Signing off with a big smile,</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Wannabe Wayfarer :)</div>
</div>
Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-91288561708058017152013-10-22T11:26:00.002-07:002013-10-22T12:10:27.137-07:00Meeting the Other Woman<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
See :)</div>
<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Got published in <a href="http://tamarindrice.in/tamarind-rice-issue-6/meeting-woman/" target="_blank"><span style="color: orange;">Tamarind Rice</span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I performed this also,</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.628809667170042.1073741863.244481208936225&type=1" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Poetry on the Big Mic Vol 29</span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Tell me what you think!</div>
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiojvt4aOSyn0G9eQybis4hCvUvE2oV78zTV9lJcY0N2IefEvi2atPShHWCM2B0FrCEjzx4uRjPNifNhgOHrheVYIrDPn2WMAiu1saO6jM6_E1QmwMXwGoxVrKX5g12N5V5HgSeBBju120/s1600/pg21.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiojvt4aOSyn0G9eQybis4hCvUvE2oV78zTV9lJcY0N2IefEvi2atPShHWCM2B0FrCEjzx4uRjPNifNhgOHrheVYIrDPn2WMAiu1saO6jM6_E1QmwMXwGoxVrKX5g12N5V5HgSeBBju120/s640/pg21.png" width="453" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
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Also, someone marked my last post "indifferent". Who are you? Come forward.</div>
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;">
-Wannabe Wayfarer</div>
</div>
Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-82789634150776624302013-03-20T09:41:00.000-07:002013-03-20T09:45:49.347-07:00The hair is always shinier on the other head<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;">Girls with curls want to straighten their hair and those with sleek hair want
curls. Classic case of female envy. That's what beauty salons feed on - our
insecurities. We women are quite self-conscious. Those who claim you're not,
who are you kidding? We use the rear-view mirror inside the car only to
re-apply lipstick before we get out.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;">I have
naturally straight, black hair. The length and style varies countless times in a
year depending on the seasons and my unpredictable moods. Most recently, I also
added some colour to it. Every fortnight, I get bored looking at the same
reflection in the mirror and then go do something drastic with what I can
experiment the most on - my hair. Once upon a time, I had long hair. But now I
just don't have the patience for it anymore. Thanks to my habit of oiling my
hair (or so we Indian women believe), I have had no complaints of dry hair.
Even after I bleached sections of it to look like Nicki Minaj.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;">Anyway, I
got a bob cut six months ago but it didn't seem shocking enough to make me like
what I saw in the mirror. Therefore the colour. This is what I looked like then: </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW_kvTbEPKo-j3CR3tsySKeqUdN1hLlRgh0fRjtpLtfWMH4FnbeIVl7rzAGwPuZDq4iMH-Zjao0n2Rrfw46xZ9K9f80b5fzoX9GakE0FWxS7U6BAutin8uyH0dyLMEddJmNhHbbAF26Dg/s1600/hair3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW_kvTbEPKo-j3CR3tsySKeqUdN1hLlRgh0fRjtpLtfWMH4FnbeIVl7rzAGwPuZDq4iMH-Zjao0n2Rrfw46xZ9K9f80b5fzoX9GakE0FWxS7U6BAutin8uyH0dyLMEddJmNhHbbAF26Dg/s1600/hair3.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;">Now, the
burgundy/pink is almost all gone and the straw-colour of the bleach that
remains resembles a manjaa (a thread which is used to fly kites).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;">How many
times have you ditched a social gathering simply because your hair didn't agree
with you? I bail on 70% of the outings I get invited to. In hindsight, I rot at
home 90% due to silly reasons like - my hair is not shiny enough, it is falling
flat today or I look like a beaten-up Rihanna (no offence, Ri.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;">I now have
an award-winning and rather hassle-free solution to these vanities.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;">A Ramp-Ready
Hairstyle at home!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">In fact, I had no idea that my beautiful
mane makes heads turn because of my simple trick while shampooing! I took for
granted the extra volume my just-washed hair assumes and retains for at least
two days thence. (I mean, isn't everybody's hair supposed to look fabulous after
a hair-wash?) However, only after a slightly jealous friend asked how I managed
a voluminous look did I realize that my way of hair-wash is not known to many.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">So, here's what I suggest you should do
too:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 11pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">This
works well with any good shampoo. Just do what you always do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 11pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">To
rinse it off, however, while standing under the head shower, turn your hair
upside down and face the floor so that the water falls from the nape of your
neck to your forehead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 11pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">The
last rinse, most importantly, should be with freezing cold water in the same
face-down position (cold water gives guaranteed shine to your hair)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 11pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">Conditioning
is a must because it is essential that you do not have knots in your hair<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 11pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">After
you're done washing, don't rub a towel on your hair to dry it<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 11pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">Simply
wrap it around the upturned hair and squeeze the excess water<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 11pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">Keep
the towel wrapped. You may leave it on while you get dressed, do your make-up
etc for the big party.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 11pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">After
all that is done, face down again, remove the towel and use a wide-tooth comb
on your damp hair in the same upturned position only. Comb from back to front,
neck to forehead, preferably directly under a fan.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 11pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">Ultimately,
turn your head up and toss your hair back with a flourish<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 11pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">Do
not comb your hair now. Simply let it dry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 11pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">Use
your fingers to set it in place, where needed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 11pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">You
can use a hairspray if you so desire to lock the just-washed hair look.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">Voila!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTNr1oBu9_gE1w9t22xSrkPo1s3XQc7ZohMDyyW5RXg7K-xoZie9FSnfe6Ff0O1wjI_k9DoTLHeWTM2IProv2vuK3ny0jr4Nbzc9FzQE640gD9qXC7B8oCu4Zn0bCv5anLRKm70AS2uVs/s1600/hair4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTNr1oBu9_gE1w9t22xSrkPo1s3XQc7ZohMDyyW5RXg7K-xoZie9FSnfe6Ff0O1wjI_k9DoTLHeWTM2IProv2vuK3ny0jr4Nbzc9FzQE640gD9qXC7B8oCu4Zn0bCv5anLRKm70AS2uVs/s1600/hair4.jpg" width="192" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7OY74cCJD0DwQOlIz_Wdks-TFWe7jm_rn53R4jCS441tR1kuOm6dbWdSuOvV8eFx4DSWy0cl0iR22wy_QrpBfmqS9W5L2BjMHuDh_vvG67sJR9VhV0l9F214fQjvca7OUrMEzFVreQAY/s1600/hair2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7OY74cCJD0DwQOlIz_Wdks-TFWe7jm_rn53R4jCS441tR1kuOm6dbWdSuOvV8eFx4DSWy0cl0iR22wy_QrpBfmqS9W5L2BjMHuDh_vvG67sJR9VhV0l9F214fQjvca7OUrMEzFVreQAY/s1600/hair2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">This works 100% on straight, sleek, black
and shiny hair. (yes, I show-off.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">For more Ramp-Ready Hairstyles for your
hair-type, check out: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/TresemmeIndia/RampReadyHair">http://www.youtube.com/user/TresemmeIndia/RampReadyHair</a></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">There are awesome DIYs for curly (makes me wish I had curls) and wavy hair, too!</span></div>
<br />
<div align="right">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Feeling sexy,</span></div>
<div align="right">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wannabe Wayfarer</span></div>
</div>
Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-82618114164918115152013-01-28T12:16:00.005-08:002014-07-29T00:36:07.636-07:00But Most Importantly, Be Mine.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>Prologue: Eventually, say when I am 25, I want to get married. Probably
not settle down, but definitely spend the rest of my life with one man. This
post is for that man. I know this is five years too soon. But this is to remind
me what I need to demand of him. I must not be blinded by the fervor and must
not compromise on my indispensable requirements. Of course, this may be
rendered useless. I will not settle for sub-standard so I just might not get
married at all. If in case I do, it is my fiance’s responsibility to read this
post.</em></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hi.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You are going to spend the rest of your life with me. Are
you sure? Rethink. Please consider this as documentary evidence of my official
warning to you.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you’re still so madly in love with me, this is what I
want:<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><u><strike>A humble wedding.<o:p></o:p></strike></u></strong></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strike>Ever since I can remember, I thought extravagant weddings
were the best kind of weddings. As I grew up, I was familiarized with family politics
and I learned that big weddings do not usually mean happy marriages. As I
gradually attended more and more weddings, I realized I would be much happier
with a humble wedding. Firstly, rich weddings are highly inconvenient. I do not
want to be an unmoving, over-dressed doll that needs to walk at the pace of an
8-bit video game character on the very day that I want to jump with joy and
laugh and dance and not care if the whole world is looking at me. See, my plan
is simple:<o:p></o:p></strike></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strike>ALL traditional rituals and functions must be
followed. In case you are not Punjabi, I want to do all your set of rituals,
too. We are not going to miss out on even the tiniest tradition.<o:p></o:p></strike></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">2.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> <strike>
</strike></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strike>Anyway most of our pre-wedding functions will be
different for you and me. We will each be with our respective families. All my
pre-wedding functions will be amongst a small gathering of only those closest
to me. Therefore, just family. As for you, I am going to trust you to have
sincerely performed all your set of required rituals before getting married to
me.<o:p></o:p></strike></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">3.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strike>A sangeet. I would prefer that to be more or
less private, too. My friends and I are constantly editing the song-list. I
have already decided the anchor for the event - my maid of honour. So you can’t
have a say in that, sorry.<o:p></o:p></strike></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">4.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The shaadi – I want pheras. Even outside a
mandir will do. Nothing too fancy, please. I just want my pheras and sindhoor
and all that jazz. And lesser the audience, the better.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">5.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strike>Basically, I want to make just the Reception an
open-to-all event. Rest everything needs to be a family affair. Since 80%
chance is that you are a Punjabi, our combined family strength will be 800
people. We need to cut it short to 200. That is our guest list for the sangeet.
Okay fine, plus a 100-odd for our friends. Reception, you may invite even 1000
people.<o:p></o:p></strike></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">6.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I D<strike>O NOT WANT US TO SIT ON A STAGE FOR OUR
RECEPTION. It’s a reception! Not an exhibition. We will be moving around
constantly, touching the feet of elders here, there and everywhere. We will
have a table with the rest of the people. NOT a stage. If you insist otherwise,
go for the reception alone.<o:p></o:p></strike></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">7.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> <strike>
</strike></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strike>I want to hire a cool wedding photographer and I
will not be made to pose with my hands under my chin phonily.<o:p></o:p></strike></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That’s it. See? I don’t ask for
much.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now, here’s what I expect from you
once we’re together (since I’ve already chosen you, the disclosure of my more
detailed, essential pre-requisites is not needed here):<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Say I’m beautiful.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Defend me at all times. Come home
and shout, that’s okay.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Don’t leave me alone anywhere.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Be interesting.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Love me, but don’t spoil me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Travel light.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If I am marrying you, I sincerely
hope it is because we love each other. Even my expression of love to you is
restrained until we’re married; and I’m yours.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In this life and beyond,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Candidly yours,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Wannabe Wayfarer.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjexz9UEQAAsRlT41wtUeC4S-wTYSGgJegaoreIYmBolQGnuSkUlDdPP0lM-IlFSgRRd13m3WwftQ-3_zMX9ZEGqiOJn-_7rBNOLX1Z490n2-zAMGJSLBp4VQn-Q2d3A6-Y2_spLmMCFyY/s1600/knot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjexz9UEQAAsRlT41wtUeC4S-wTYSGgJegaoreIYmBolQGnuSkUlDdPP0lM-IlFSgRRd13m3WwftQ-3_zMX9ZEGqiOJn-_7rBNOLX1Z490n2-zAMGJSLBp4VQn-Q2d3A6-Y2_spLmMCFyY/s1600/knot.jpg" height="211" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirpa4TYneJEf359KVy9LtklOI5sZ97S12RANElyYzebOTB2HR4g0PeVpZKgqVXkW_p1RfsTsrN7dSsyn53-w8GWOR8nBtRGC-oEezRvVckmxbrTjcJ_9xURlg5ITghqr4kc74YdGaKVc4/s1600/invite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirpa4TYneJEf359KVy9LtklOI5sZ97S12RANElyYzebOTB2HR4g0PeVpZKgqVXkW_p1RfsTsrN7dSsyn53-w8GWOR8nBtRGC-oEezRvVckmxbrTjcJ_9xURlg5ITghqr4kc74YdGaKVc4/s1600/invite.jpg" height="200" width="185" /></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB1wfka-objqigt175vGv0cZO3oA2RU6voYRv2JCGk_HixLnBbe20gRAfg-azfqLHwuYJwaNqe0hes-UAvt6qqdIh9JT2ilEHFGxa6H7n1df3glYV5iWQ82TwD2z_1PqKFngCVvbTTZQQ/s1600/bingo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB1wfka-objqigt175vGv0cZO3oA2RU6voYRv2JCGk_HixLnBbe20gRAfg-azfqLHwuYJwaNqe0hes-UAvt6qqdIh9JT2ilEHFGxa6H7n1df3glYV5iWQ82TwD2z_1PqKFngCVvbTTZQQ/s640/bingo.jpg" height="640" width="472" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So that the bachcha party doesn't get bored</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-21763688819256964292012-11-28T10:50:00.001-08:002013-01-13T23:17:05.039-08:00Inspire<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Words of Winston Churchill. They summarize my enriching experience on 23rd November, 2012. Thanks to Deloitte’s CSR initiative - Impact Day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />Within months after I joined Deloitte, I had heard much animated talks about our annual “Impact Day” – stories of the ones gone by and plans for the upcoming one. The excitement was infectious. I just couldn’t wait to experience it myself. Finally in November, my inbox flashed the official e-mail inviting us to be a part of something as big as this. Ideas were sought from all of us. This was our chance to make a difference – in not just others’ but also our own lives. When the projects were shortlisted, they were all so good; I couldn’t decide which one to register for. I chose “Inspire”. Why? Truth be told, because I like painting walls. I don’t really like children so I think it was solely for the chance to paint an entire balwadi (children’s home).<br />
<br />We had pre-project meetings just like we have pre-engagement briefings at work. Our team brainstormed on how we would spend the day with the kids and in what way could we leave a lasting impact on their imaginative minds. Finally it was decided that we would conduct three workshops – glass painting, paper quilling and paper-bag making. Responsibilities were allocated; our Deloitte t-shirts were handed out. I was already feeling pumped up. Needless to say, all the logistics went smoothly.<br />
<br />
Where did we go to on that bright morning? Ramakrishna Sarada Samiti, Sion. RKS started by providing free medical service to the poor slum dwellers of the area in 1968. At that time, they had neither funds nor land. 1974 saw the construction of its present building, which now provides free health care for all, vocational training to women, basic education and other activities such as dance, art and music classes to children up to the age of thirteen. We met Mr. Raghu Pilaka, a chartered accountant by profession, who whole-heartedly devotes his time to the NGO. His wife, Mrs. Vidya - a wonderful lady and an architect by profession - too, shares his ideals. They both welcomed us warmly, thanking us (Deloitte) for our generous contribution while I shyly smiled, unable to say anything. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBb10LDOxa0exLpK6mzSHoVRv3Le7APEUNHFkERSrLK_ASJ9Buswg6vigbJnIXyP8gs4W9yCmUkVI4UtYJam8gtClJvT5CLU8mWCT66KZRXqyYPEkl7wXzMVgzpCjBycMlPXL9eXHXUeE/s1600/little+lamps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBb10LDOxa0exLpK6mzSHoVRv3Le7APEUNHFkERSrLK_ASJ9Buswg6vigbJnIXyP8gs4W9yCmUkVI4UtYJam8gtClJvT5CLU8mWCT66KZRXqyYPEkl7wXzMVgzpCjBycMlPXL9eXHXUeE/s1600/little+lamps.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As soon as we entered Little Lamps, the balwadi, I was reminded of my own pre-school; and how much I loved it. It was no different for those children over there. They much prefer spending their entire day at RKS rather than at their homes. We had walked in in the middle of a drawing class. The young lad teaching the kids is also from the same slum area, a very talented artist, and is aspiring to get admission at JJ College of Arts. Looking at his painting that adorned a wall of the dispensary, I think he is deserving of that opportunity. RKS is making sure he does.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />We started almost immediately after a quick breakfast of idli-chutney. Most of the men took up the task of painting the periphery. Those of us who were more creatively-inclined chose to paint rainbows, birds, butterflies, trees, geometric shapes (and all things bright and beautiful) on the walls inside. The JJ-aspirant helped us a lot. After three hours of paint-splashing, frenzied picture-clicking and exhausting running-around, we took a break for lunch. The children were astonishingly well-mannered and comfortably jovial with us. Once well-fed, our energy levels doubled up (and yet, didn’t match those of the power-packed kids). We made a huge wall-poster with all the drawings that they made in class. Here’s what it looked like:</span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX1xz_Q-fMgOueS4G8tbQrbj7NboLPpVKzvJOTKcaacId6pdEZZhKEpFBm9e93D1LIYr0cV6_nb3rpyDXjKPKG-1nXdbwzpcrxNwE0GuWChmxkw4ALaciudQ_SxSwqCEPg7nFUmEUkvy0/s1600/inspire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX1xz_Q-fMgOueS4G8tbQrbj7NboLPpVKzvJOTKcaacId6pdEZZhKEpFBm9e93D1LIYr0cV6_nb3rpyDXjKPKG-1nXdbwzpcrxNwE0GuWChmxkw4ALaciudQ_SxSwqCEPg7nFUmEUkvy0/s1600/inspire.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The fun had only just begun. We sat together for a quick round of introductions, to break the ice and open up before we commenced the workshops. And guess what? I learned the bharatnatyam namaskara, thanks to this beautiful eleven-year old girl, who also gave me a wonderful “thankyou” card at the end of the day (I did NOT cry. Shut up!). From budding choreographers to potential artists, the energy of the troop overwhelmed me. The workshops were a huge hit with them. Their innocent smiles and infectious giggles made it difficult for me not to like them. Much to my own surprise (and shock), I had befriended most of them by the end of the day. But no, I did not get even slightly emotional when one of them asked, “Didi, when will you come back?” True to its title, this project inspired me to be as selfless as Mr. and Mrs. Pilaka; and as happy, imaginative and energetic as all those "little lamps".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I am going to make some furniture out of waste paper this Sunday with them. After all, I did promise the little girl that I would return soon.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj60IqXwpSxWPSVLcIeb_S_65A2JHk9QM743Rwl8wqqzawTFIpjOzTQDrcRWWYcVVrpwWzZhXHRUrSzAgZfu12i-_N_-EoywY_J5cjDIzTcRk-dhILrEnZbwQHOJQ1bpwjhxRgNGY45ug8/s1600/smiles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj60IqXwpSxWPSVLcIeb_S_65A2JHk9QM743Rwl8wqqzawTFIpjOzTQDrcRWWYcVVrpwWzZhXHRUrSzAgZfu12i-_N_-EoywY_J5cjDIzTcRk-dhILrEnZbwQHOJQ1bpwjhxRgNGY45ug8/s1600/smiles.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
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More pictures <a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10151158655728807.447494.672083806&type=1" target="_blank">here.</a><br />
<br />
<div align="right">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Blessed with small joys,</span></div>
<div align="right">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wannabe Wayfarer.</span></div>
</div>
Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-79925914361614114212012-10-09T00:52:00.000-07:002012-10-09T00:52:02.468-07:00September ends..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As one of my two regular followers pointed out recently, I haven't updated this blog for over a month now. Because I have been pre-occupied. A lot has happened in Septemeber 2012. My first tax audit and first real relationship for instance. But those are topics I am not keen to blog about. So instead, I shall share something I wrote to please an upcoming youth-centric website (and it got rejected).<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="MsoBookTitle"><strong><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Quote: Vox populi, vox Dei<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="MsoBookTitle"><strong><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Origin: Greek, 14th century<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="MsoBookTitle"><strong><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Translation: “The voice of the
people is the voice of God”<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>Interpretation:</strong> Statistically, India is the largest
democracy. Sure, secular, multi-cultural and multi-lingual are all very
impressive attributes. But the question is, are we really free? If we were a
free country, doodlers making wolves instead of lions wouldn’t be arrested on
charges of sedition. Tolerance is a virtue secular India must learn. Another
disturbing question is, why must the people resort to dramatic strikes
and protests to make themselves heard? The esteemed “kursi” is of the people,
for the people and by the people, remember?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">PS: I also have a strong reverse opinion on the same Greek
quote. But let’s keep that for a better (or worse) day.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span class="MsoSubtleReference"><u><span style="color: #c0504d;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Further upsetting quotes:<o:p></o:p></span></span></u></span><br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than
others.” - <em>George Orwell, </em><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><em>Animal Farm </em>(which, FYI, is a hilariously depressing book).</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“Those who deny freedom to others deserve it not for themselves.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- Abraham Lincoln</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span>Lunch-time at office.</div>
<div align="right">
Forever hungry,</div>
<div align="right">
Wannabe Wayfarer.</div>
</div>
Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-67313043009196601592012-08-22T07:41:00.002-07:002012-08-22T08:48:15.054-07:00A Lucky Evening<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Before 19th August, 2012, I did not believe in the authenticity of contests and lucky-draws. I thought they were all orchestrated and unfair. However, I now have a new zest for checking out free goodies and participating in random competitions. After all, winning a Nokia Lumia is a life-changing event! What started off as an awkward evening with complete strangers eventually turned out to be a very appetizing night! Not only did I make several new friends, I think I gained a pound or two. Plus, they do say, that the camera adds ten pounds. So, if you happen to see them, excuse the pictures, please.<br />
<br />
Where was I that day, you ask? (In case I haven’t already shouted it out in your ears) I was a privileged attendee at the NokiaAppTasting IndiBlogger meet. How? Well, simple; I begged the IndiBlogger people to let me register despite a very dull and uneventful blog. A big thanks to them, once again.<br />
<br />
The friends who accompanied me were very excited about meeting Vikas Khanna, the host for the evening. I don't watch MasterChef. Although, having read a few of Rajiv Makhni’s witty articles in the Hindustan Times, I was quite interested in meeting that man. As the evening progressed, true to my teenage-girl syndrome, I fell in love with both of them. I mean, how couldn’t I? They’re humble, cute, funny and very very Punjabi! I have laughed my lungs out at their hilarious description of the Simran-incident.<br />
<br />
As is tradition at all IndiBlogger meets (so I am told since this was my first), the evening commenced with a 30 second introduction of almost all bloggers present. Even before that happened, I was in awe of the crowd around me. There were bloggers of all ages and, as Poonam Kaul, Director-Communications, Nokia India said herself, “I am not a feminist but I am proud to see the large number of female bloggers.” All of twelve years, the youngest blogger at the meet - Harini Rao came up on stage and candidly admitted having come to the event only for the free food. Well, lucky kids. They can say anything and get away with it as “cute”. In contrast, also present there were bloggers who had grandchildren as old as Vikas and Rajiv and they charmed their way into my heart with their “silly poetry” and “lack of tech-knowledge”.<br />
<br />
With a never-ending spread of starters and wine to keep us satisfied, Nokia smoothly drilled home the message that they’re very much in the niche market and have no intentions of backing down. I am smitten with the Nokia Pureview and the myriad of wonderful applications it boasts of, not to mention a 41MP camera with Carl Zeiss lens! Oh, but my new Lumia! Yes, I’m getting there. There was a food & technology quiz that I literally forced my way into. Thanks to my very competent partner-in-crime, Kalindi Manek, we managed to win by a fair margin of twenty or so points! I must say here, that both the hosts are extremely knowledgeable in their respective fields. Did you know that the most famous Indian dish everywhere in the world except India is Chicken Tikka Masala? Or that Nokia N90 is actually the first phone with a built-in Carl Zeiss digital camera?<br />
<br />
IndiBlogger turned five that night. The event was brought to a close with a delicious cake-cutting, emotional birthday-card moments, a buffet and (in my case,) countless servings of chocolate mousse. I look forward to more of such enriching and scrumptious evenings with IndiBlogger.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
Indian by birth, Blogger by choice,<br />
Wannabe Wayfarer.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<br />
Other Perks:<br />
I wore my IndiBlogger t-shirt at a college festival the other day and without me saying a word, the security gave me an unrestricted entry, cutting the unimaginably long queue because they thought I’m a sponsor! Tacit consent? Whatever.</div>
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Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-89820255002139326982012-06-06T12:33:00.000-07:002012-06-06T12:37:56.645-07:00Why the bad guy is good for you<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Last Saturday -as is my weekend routine - was spent watching movies. I half-heartedly went to watch Rowdy Rathore with someone I hadn’t met for five years and, quite unexpectedly, it turned out to be a ridiculously hilarious evening. What I learned: never say never.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I got home with the intention of pulling an all-nighter. Having heard so much praise about it, when I finally got the download from a colleague, I couldn’t wait even a day more to watch Bridget Jones’ Diary. Also, the colleague has given me a covetable collection of rom-coms to last a good whole month. God bless her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I started the movie with a lot of expectations from it; and it didn’t disappoint. You just can’t get enough of her and so I stayed up till six a.m. to finish the second part too. I cannot say I like Bridget as much as I like Rebecca (from the second movie). Rebecca is sexy, tall and a super smart lawyer. Mark didn’t hook up with Rebecca not because he loved Bridget but because Rebecca did. If she was straight, you’d have known that Mark Darcy is no saint. Am I the only one who thinks that Mark Darcy is too perfect to be real? Okay, I LOVE how he loves Bridget (especially his “high regard” for her “wobbly bits”) but in this world, there is no Mark Darcy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We’re more likely to be floored by a Daniel Cleaver first. I think every girl has a Daniel Cleaver in her life; someone who is so charming that he sweeps you off your feet, so sexy that your knees turn to jelly and so shameless that you hate his guts. But in a way, as much as you hate to admit it, Cleaver was good for you. Where Mark is happy with “just as you are”, Cleaver gnaws at your brain, breaks your heart and you strive to improve your life simply as a way to get back at him. Notice how she got fitter and found a better job after dumping him? It’s like a whole new improved life; the sweet smell of vengeance. She needed Daniel Cleaver: to realize the worth of Mark Darcy. And to realize her own worth too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We become who we are not only by the choices we make but also by the choices circumstances make for us. If that ladyboy hadn’t interrupted them in Thailand, then Bridget would have most definitely slept with Cleaver and her life would have turned out to be very, very different. I am glad they were interrupted.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Because Mark literally traversed the ends of the world to rescue her </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Forever believing in miracles and a sucker for happy endings,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Signing off,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Wannabe Wayfarer.</span></div>
</div>Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-23506013889010188562012-05-10T09:12:00.000-07:002012-05-10T09:13:01.026-07:00Before I die.. (under construction)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Skydiving in Spain</span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I always wanted to try a free fall from a really high ground. A cliff, or a tall building. Then I saw Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara. Thenceforth, skydiving is <strong>the most certain thing on my list</strong>. Being dropped from an airplane, 15000 ft. above ground, with nothing but a parachute! Just floating in the air, almost as if flying!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Visit Hogwarts, Hogsmeade & Diagon Alley</span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Because I wish I studied in Hogwarts. And spent my weekends in Hogsmeade. And that I could go to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, get my wand from Olivander, buy Bertie Bott’s every flavored beans, chocolate frogs, and sit at The Three Broomsticks with a butterbeer to finish my Charms or Potions essay with a self-correct quill.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">See the midnight sun in Norway</span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Midnight sun, literally, is a midnight sun seen during summers near the Arctic Circle, where the sun doesn’t set all day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And, Norway, I’ve heard, is the most beautiful place to be =)</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIo_0crCxfk3kHPUPcBl-E-_lnJ-CirdR0tRy-KYQVugpIW2mPxcfNKob6ddpLRrsVl6cYispJSGT0QXzk2Q1MoJAtFnAVQs4Gqzzu6bk338DWQlJFzqtugAeH9ESD-RYzwO9qpY4ftxo/s1600/musical_notes2.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" dba="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIo_0crCxfk3kHPUPcBl-E-_lnJ-CirdR0tRy-KYQVugpIW2mPxcfNKob6ddpLRrsVl6cYispJSGT0QXzk2Q1MoJAtFnAVQs4Gqzzu6bk338DWQlJFzqtugAeH9ESD-RYzwO9qpY4ftxo/s320/musical_notes2.gif" width="315" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Record a song in my voice</span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Not saying I have a singer’s voice. But, I like to sing and I like being complimented about my voice. I want to hear my singing voice, to know if it is actually worth listening to. I don’t know what I’ll do with it, but I would like to record one song, professionally.</span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqAEf6CQ67xa2o2CGiF1BQtfFf9dAj_N8WYyJeUKsoaQqON_u743GS2UCXH2XyePQfRnn111ClX0EVU_LAdFbWJMGLQfG_mO2HZhWbIOgSEpEHTLiEsLS0weeFib6TGdQWo4DxVSxDAf4/s1600/the-last-dance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" dba="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqAEf6CQ67xa2o2CGiF1BQtfFf9dAj_N8WYyJeUKsoaQqON_u743GS2UCXH2XyePQfRnn111ClX0EVU_LAdFbWJMGLQfG_mO2HZhWbIOgSEpEHTLiEsLS0weeFib6TGdQWo4DxVSxDAf4/s320/the-last-dance.jpg" width="239" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Learn a dance form</span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Okay, I cannot dance. I look stupid when I attempt. I can’t learn because, well, I’m embarrassed that I’ll look even stupider trying. But, in secret, I want to learn how to dance. I envy graceful dancers. So, anyone taking private lessons please let me know.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqLGDaNXisNkXLweuJhS_YhBhO2Sd9st3LlY2NQgcuOk2evfLPeSRmfd2pQxsPDUD5t-5GlNUEBhDYNtfv4rYCmvx2oin_9IHxSfUFH5k-GPBAQ1zTjtKaOdUJVDloNVMEesSxh6LZnGs/s1600/metroship_modern_houseboat_(18)_L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" dba="true" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqLGDaNXisNkXLweuJhS_YhBhO2Sd9st3LlY2NQgcuOk2evfLPeSRmfd2pQxsPDUD5t-5GlNUEBhDYNtfv4rYCmvx2oin_9IHxSfUFH5k-GPBAQ1zTjtKaOdUJVDloNVMEesSxh6LZnGs/s320/metroship_modern_houseboat_(18)_L.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Live in a boathouse</span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This is more of a honeymoon wishlist item, of course. Waking up in a boat. Sigh.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well, that's all the things I could think of right now. I shall keep adding to it. Any suggestions?</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">- Wannabe Wayfarer.</span></div>
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</div>Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-13181669432051292492012-04-02T10:44:00.000-07:002012-05-10T12:37:51.811-07:00A page from my Diary<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Chennai Office, 1.00 pm.</h2>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So after my wonderful trip to Vaishnodevi temple, I flew to Chennai for two weeks, then Bombay last week and flew back here (yes, AGAIN) for continuation of what we label work. Right now, that’s where I am, sitting alone, typing this out in a chilly conference room at the client’s office; wearing a sweater when the temperature outside is 340C. Last night, however, was hot, dirty and sweaty. From afternoon to midnight, I was counting engines, wheel rims, cylinders, slider frames, axles, valves, tube tires, and even nuts and bolts. I was at an unpronounceable remote plant location at the Tamil Nadu-Andhra Pradesh border conducting Physical Verification of our client’s stock. Blah.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">On the hour long return journey from the warehouse to the hotel we’re staying at, sandwiched on the backseat between my team member and a client representative, I received plenty of calls from Bombay. All day too, my phone has been flooded with calls and messages.Today is my birthday. 2<sup>nd</sup> April. I have completed nineteen years on this planet and I have no vision, aim or plan for my future. A big thank you to all who wish me well!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Listening to: Make It Up As You Go! – Plain White T’s</span></div>
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Hotel Room, 10.00 pm – Post Dinner</h2>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Birthday made bright thanks to memories of the advance celebrations in Bombay last week (especially the scrumptious chocolate cake baked by a sexy Saraf and lovely thoughtful gifts from everyone), surprise cake by work team here, and these precious dedications:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><b><span lang="EN" style="color: red; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">#1 (wishes to remain unnamed)</span></b> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span lang="EN">Birthday - just another day for you and me, right?</span><span lang="EN"> Nothing more, nothing less; except probably the tiny birthday cake and a little bit of attention here and there. But, who wants that anyway...</span><span lang="EN"> I kept the same attitude till now. And I am not sure if I am going to, willing to or succumb to changing that attitude to "OMG, IT’S MY BIRTHDAY MONTH! YAYIEE" either.</span><span lang="EN"> Nevertheless, it’s a special day. Today is special because someone came into the world only to change mine for the better. Guess what? That’s a good enough reason for you and me to celebrate.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span lang="EN">You are Dear, Harshika Gupta, and you should know that. Never contemplate on how much you have positively contributed to my life because despite the physical distance, trust me - YOU TOP MY LIST.</span><span lang="EN"> Being with you - real time or just spiritually is just unbelievable. Sometimes I wonder how you can make all my whining, unrealistic love life and ridiculous ambitions seem so normal. Even about being independent, you know... I don't think I'd feel so free if you wouldn't keep reminding me of it.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN"><br /></span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A mere 'thank you' won't suffice for the strength that you give me. But you must know that I am very lucky and grateful to God to have let me sensed this unbound, unconditional and permanent friendship with Harshika Gupta.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span lang="EN">I Love You.</span><span lang="EN"> Oh!</span><span lang="EN"> And yea, Happy Birthday. May you have a million reasons to smile and a trillion reasons to laugh!</span><span lang="EN"> (My April calendar says "A smile is a laugh that bursts", cool na?)</span><span lang="EN"> Yours,</span><span lang="EN"> Guess who</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN"><br /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span></span><b><span style="color: red;"></span></b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: red;">#2 (my favorite Shetty)</span></b> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Dear Harshika,<br />I find having pen pals amusing. Considering FaceBook doesn't allow that anymore, why would anyone write mails and letters when you can chat and whatspp(darn technology). I know you have too much work to write letters to me. But I declare you my pen pal. I will keep you updated about my (and others) life when you are away whether you like it or not.<br />Anyway, here's a poem I wrote for this awesome occasion of your birthday. It's called YOU.(Genius me)<br />Hope you like it!!</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You.</span></b></div>
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<b><br /></b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The craziness, the lovesickness<br />Made me think I was the only one<br />Then I realized you were there too<br />To share in the fun.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You have some wiring wrong<br />Considering the things you say and do.<br />You say the funniest and darnest things<br />And I actually believe you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I need to learn to love like you<br />With all your heart and soul<br />You do what you want and<br />Don't always follow the rules.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Every friend has a place<br />A season that he brings<br />You are the friend that<br />Always resembles the spring.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I wish that you soon figure out<br />What it is that you want to do<br />It doesn't really matter to me<br />Coz whatever it is you'd be true.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And that's your share of sappiness<br />For the friend you have been to me<br />And I pray for only happiness<br />From the heavens to shower on thee.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Happy Birthday, Harshika Gupta!!! :D</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">Ps. Tried to say the above in poetry but nothing really rhymes with Gupta! :(</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">- Trupthi.</span><br />
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How lucky am I :)</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Feeling blessed,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Wannabe Wayfarer.</span></div>
</div>Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-63338836049453143392012-03-06T05:39:00.000-08:002012-03-06T05:39:00.879-08:00Wonder Years<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Precariously balancing on the edge of the aluminum ladder, after several unsuccessful tries with a long stick, I pulled myself up and wiggled into the duct-like passage. Came out disheveled, but finally pulled out the bag that’s been on my mind longer than I care to admit. It was heavy and I was as excited as I am when I have unending dessert options! Dragged my colossal haul to a corner of the house and settled amidst the comforting memories.<br /><br />That was at 12 in the afternoon. Fast forward to 5 in the evening, my brother and I are laughing our stomachs hollow (me, quite literally on an empty stomach) at a super scary baby picture of me. No kidding. I was a scary baby. Eyes too big for the face, and add to that hideously frilly frocks and dresses. It’s like a china doll from those scary movies is unblinkingly staring at you. I have the potential to scare the bejesus out of somebody. I’m glad; some talent. If I was a scary baby, I haven’t seen any kid cuter than my brother. I swear. I’m saying this impartially. Maybe even a little reluctantly. He’s a born poser, like my mother and has got the math-whiz brains of my father. Me? I’m considering the possibility that I was adopted.<br /><br />There were a zillion more photos – of my parents’ wedding (me absent), mom’s first karvachauth (me absent), playschool, all our vacations, trips to temples, chirstmas parties, holi, Diwali, birthday parties – of all the cousins, raksha bandhan, everything before 2000 and a little up to 2003. Since I’ve been pretty much jobless having taken unnecessary leave from work for inconsequential exams, I thought that instead of wasting yet another day on sleeping and eating on my laptop, I’d look through these photographs.<br /><br />Irrespective of the bag-full of photos, I remember very little of pre-teen me - just a few incidents. Individually, they might not make sense but put together, there is fluidity (eh, critics?) in the awesome tale of my childhood. Here, I shall try to be as chronological as possible in my reminiscence of those few far and in between childhood memories:<br /><br />I remember journeying from one make-believe city at the right of the sofa set using a threadbare ottoman to reach the other end where my mum waited to spoon-feed rajma chawal to me. The self-made game was to reach her without putting my feet on the floor. I don’t think she understood that; or cared. She hates spoon feeding. She would get irritable and hurl expletives only like a Punjabi mother can. She only spoon-fed me because the rest of her sisters-in-law did their children. The perks of a joint-family lifestyle, I tell you!<br /><br />When my kid brother was born, I remember holding that tiny little thing and saying, “He is so pink!” Later, I also suggested that he be named Mickey Mouse when all the elders congregated in the “sitting-room” to jot down baby names. I remember stealthily creeping into the room together with my cousins where he was peacefully asleep and pulling the crib net off so he would wake up – something mom had specifically warned us against. I remember feeling terribly guilty about that; worrying all the while whether mosquitoes were hovering around my tiny brother because of us.<br /><br />I love my cousins. I’ve grown up playing lagori, Simon says, red letter, land-water, hide-and-seek, treasure hunt and what-not with them. I am extremely lucky to have not just one, but three loving brothers and five beautiful sisters.<br /><br />My eldest brother, he’s an angel. Once, aggressive me bit him; not like a tiny kid’s peck, but a piranha’s bite. A deafening scream; and then I ran. Ran for my life. Expecting him to chase me and pay me back in stones. Panting, I hid in our garden, the farthest I could get from him. Hours passed, he never followed. I thought he’s gone a step further – complained to mom; or worse, to badimamma. All day, I was so scared, waiting for the blow that never came. He forgave me. Just like that. That was just the beginning of his unending generosity to me. My brothers are my 3 a.m. friends. I trust them with my life.<br /><br />As a kid, I think I would look up to my elder sisters; I still do. So probably whatever they said was gospel truth to me back then. My sister fooled me into believing that the best part of the bread was the sides. She always fed me the brown sides of all her sandwiches because she disliked them. And guess what, eventually, I developed a taste and now the sides ARE the best part of the bread to me; in fact I actually dislike white bread.<br /><br />I was barely four when we shifted out. I didn’t understand much of what was happening or why and I thought shifting meant a bad thing. Our first separate place, albeit temporary, was quite far from my joint-family home. When badepapa dropped me at the depressing apartment and was about to leave, I hugged him, cried uncontrollably and just wouldn’t let go of him. I couldn’t believe he was leaving us. He told me not to be silly and that he would come the next day to pick me up for school. After a lot of tugging, I was forced to let go. Unless I’m mistaken, badepapa had tears in his eyes too. He left hurriedly. He did come over the next day; and the day after that. My heart slowly healed; my maternal uncle had come to stay with us for a while and so I didn’t have to miss badepapa all the time. Mom forced me to go out and play with my “friends” in the building. I hated them; the bitches were nothing like my sisters.<br /><br />Of course, as time passed, things got better; I made a few friends and even started paying attention to school. But my best friends remain my cousins. I still cherish my every visit to them – discussing books and movies with my two beautiful younger sisters, seeking work and college advice from my benevolent and patient brothers, teasing, taunting, laughing at each other, and the unparalleled motherly love of my badimammas and chachi. Family - I didn’t realize it was so important to me till I finished this post.<br /><br />I could go on, but I have to start packing for my trip to vaishnodevi with badepapa and badimamma :)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">See you soon,<br />Wannabe Wayfarer.</span></div>
</div>Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-2357967708256771282012-03-03T14:46:00.001-08:002012-03-03T14:50:53.833-08:00My Induction (to Social Networking)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Like the blogosphere, I’m new to twitter. And thinking to myself, why didn’t I join this earlier? Sometimes, however, constant re-tweets - from celebs and regulars alike - endorsing other users or funny quote handles, seeking more followers, etc. gets really annoying. And, it’s creepy (also a little curious, I admit) when some porn star follows you on twitter the very first day you join. But I’m new. I’m beginning to learn to block, trend and sieve only that what interests me. Notwithstanding, Twitter, like Wordpress and Blogspot, is abundant with interesting stuff. So many amazingly talented people in the world! I’m intimidated, and inspired. This week was a complete data overload on my tiny brain. I have been introduced to a dozen of refreshing blogs and this blog-reading is pretty addictive, I must say. So obsessed was I that I did not study a word for my B.Com exam (not that I would have anyway but it’s nice to have something else to blame that on instead of just my lack of interest). But, by midnight tonight, brain server crashed. Everything I read became one unending string of incomprehensible letters and similar sounding words and ideas. My eye capillaries are on the verge of bursting too, probably. So I think I’m going to take it slow now. Back off a little. Maybe study for these exams.<br /><br />The highlight of my three-day presence on Twitter – </span><a href="http://55words.blogspot.in/2012/03/theme-10-skyscrapers.html"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">http://55words.blogspot.in/2012/03/theme-10-skyscrapers.html</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> (I'm @hersheyka) Okay, it’s not a big deal but, I’m vain that way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I have a few people to thank for supporting and orchestrating my presence here. You're reading this post. Thank you :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Signing off,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Wannabe Wayfarer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">(Side Note to my one regular not-so-anonymous follower who religiously marks my every post “indifferent”: Still a wannabe I be. xD)</span></div>
</div>Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-49748166703327209822012-03-01T14:34:00.000-08:002012-03-01T22:05:30.848-08:00Our Unspoken Mutuality<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Every morning when I wake up,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I secretly hope to myself</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">That today, everything will be fine.<br />That today, we won’t argue. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">No! I don’t understand you<br />Each time I try, I let you down.<br />How can I be there for you,<br />When you don’t even need me?<br /><br />I can see that you love me<br />You really do.<br />But you love yourself more<br />And I can see that too.<br /><br />When you love me, I hate you;<br />Because I think I’m undeserving.<br />When you hate me, why would I love you?<br />So I hate you anyway.<br /><br />I do all I can to keep you happy;<br />But it’s never enough.<br />So sometimes, I get frustrated<br />And just stop caring.<br /><br />Not the victim, you’re a predator;<br />Feeding on my slavery and my fear.<br />If I’m a burden, a pain, a curse,<br />Why won’t you leave me? Or let me go?<br /><br />I lack the patience and love that you need<br />I’m selfish, like you<br />And the powerless coward that you call me;<br />If upto me, I’d run away – leave you to bleed.<br /><br />Yes, I know. You’re weak,<br />Sensitive and fragile<br />And that it’s beyond your control –<br />Your scathing remarks, the ill-speak.<br /><br />This is probably what you think of me too<br />We’ve grown on one another, that much is true.<br />Ironic then that I still want to love you<br />Though now I’m not sure what love is.<br /><br />Maybe it lies in our efforts to stay together.<br />This is our love – our unspoken mutuality;<br />I love you<br />Because you love me too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">- Wannabe Wayfarer.</span></div>
</div>Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-36829360089602023512012-02-27T08:08:00.000-08:002012-03-01T09:40:23.720-08:00And he said, "You don't know LOVE"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">- Anonymous</span></div>
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<u><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">PRELUDE: I have a wonderful friend who is quite like me in matters of the heart. We pretend we act rationally and listen to our heads, but in reality, we let our hearts win over better judgment. And most of the times, it turns out for the best.</span></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><u>This rhyme is hers. This story is hers. She prefers to grace my blog anonymously.</u></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It ended. Abruptly I won’t say because the signals were clear. I always imagined myself having these long lasting relationships so a four month thing made me sad.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I cried. Then I crap messaged a friend knowing she would be asleep. And even in all that hurt, I sent him something that wouldn’t make him worry or complicate things. I said, “Adios Amigo”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I wondered. Realized that it had happened for the best. I learned, I grew through it. I was happy and sad. I learned to be unapologetic about my feelings. I learned to ‘do what I want’. And it ended before it went bad.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I realized. I was beautiful, smart and mature. There was every reason for a guy to like me. He had proved that. And that was all I needed to know.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I smile. For every relationship that ends, new ones start and old ones are renewed and that’s what makes living worthwhile.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So I Hope.</span></div>Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-11292057483403184542012-02-26T12:12:00.000-08:002012-02-29T01:42:16.037-08:00What happens in Goa stays in Goa<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I lived my own SATC movie in Goa this month. And these are memories that will stay with me for a very long time. Can’t say forever, you know my memory-span. That’s partly why I’m writing this post. I want to be able to recall this trip even fifty years from now.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Some details are scandalous enough to completely transform your opinion of the fabulously “prim & proper” girls I travelled with and came to love. So I take them to my grave/funeral pyre (or forget them, whichever comes first). From the following words however, you may draw whatever conclusion your imagination leads you to:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">5 hours at the flea market</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Goan bred”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Mish Mar</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Mr. Darcy</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Red chaddi hotter than blue chaddi</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Lunch with what's-his-name</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Humar sajan tumhar bistar?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">2 a.m. half-biryani with full raita</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Future prediction</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Free ticket booth</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Confessions</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">350ml</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Medical students’ troop getting too friendly</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">S being openly checked out</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Dress Night!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Belly Dance</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Hug-spree</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Chronicling my life with the fat gujju & steamy affair with the pool-boy :D</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4LbFcB69d9mTD2qOGeEU-tXwFEugtdQ1aa-7izWY3-BLIn5Ga6HPpp4882_mmCTBn0doeUUq1m-GAKkYhSQWhGVyK-bqKkiSlcMK7cXOs2Y2qAPh60lOFCC9rOrQYMu7kpXYqP3wkUxs/s1600/P2010770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" height="320" lda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4LbFcB69d9mTD2qOGeEU-tXwFEugtdQ1aa-7izWY3-BLIn5Ga6HPpp4882_mmCTBn0doeUUq1m-GAKkYhSQWhGVyK-bqKkiSlcMK7cXOs2Y2qAPh60lOFCC9rOrQYMu7kpXYqP3wkUxs/s320/P2010770.JPG" width="240" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Saving the last glass!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">C</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">hampoonara</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">T's leg-clap</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Early morning cycle-touring</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Grocery shopping, chai samosa & Church-visiting</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Nothin' on you, baby! <3</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Yeah, we made a pact. To make this an annual tradition. It's Ibiza next I think.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Cheers to all the small joys!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">-Wannabe Wayfarer.</span></div>
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<br /></div>Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-29740547152647521662012-02-23T01:27:00.002-08:002012-02-29T01:34:24.651-08:00People & Me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I know a strong, beautiful and independent woman. She is my best friend and I am extremely proud of her. She inspires me to keep my creativity alive and courageously follow my dreams. We’re very different from each other. I’m selfish. She is kind, caring & will voluntarily go out of her way to help someone; anyone; everyone.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We don’t meet every day; wouldn’t even if we could; and cannot because she lives in a different country now. So her name flashing on my phone is eagerly awaited and makes me smile wide. She calls me when – she misses me, she is happy, anxious or sad. And at each instance, I feel honoured that she chose to call me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Through the years that I have known and adored her, I can now broadly identify reasons for when she is feeling low. One of them is that she lets people’s moods affect hers. It’s like having the super-ability of Jasper Cullen in reverse. Bluntly, it is more of a disability. Empathy is fine. But letting that person’s problem become your own is not.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">God gives enough strength to each; you only have to seek it within you. Most can find that strength and deal with the problem or move on. However, some are too busy crying to take any corrective action and will whine to anyone with ears. I avoid such people at all costs. “You cannot save a damsel who loves her distress”. So why waste any shred of your time or mind’s space on their sob-stories? Unless you’re a gossip monger, of course. In which case, please don’t read my posts.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Oh! Gossip – the unavoidable frenemy. I bother about only one type of gossip – that at the workplace. Because negative gossip affects your image in front of potential colleagues to whom you cannot always prove otherwise. Elsewhere, I don’t care even if people cast aspersions on my character. Likewise, whether a person likes me or not is irrelevant to me. I was not put on this planet to please you; though I definitely like being appreciated.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">If you know what you’re doing is right and that you’ve put in your best efforts, then no criticism, taunt or snide remark should affect your disposition. Growing up, I was in search for my self-identity. I still am. I think it is more of a process that upgrades as experience teaches me more lessons. However, by now, I have established my ideals, principles and my perception of right and wrong. I am secure with and confident of my views. So I seek nobody’s approval for my actions. There are no more than 5 people at any point in my life whose opinions play an unparalleled role in my decision-making. Anything the “society” says about my life choices, opinions or actions, is immaterial.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">THIS is my way to happiness and contentment – my own approval for my actions; being responsible for my own decisions; answerable primarily to myself. It is a liberating feeling.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><u><span style="line-height: 115%;">Mind chow</span></u><span style="line-height: 115%;">: Associate with spiteful people, their negativity rubs off onto you. While just a simple con<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7197853646231751238" name="_GoBack"></a>versation with happy, optimistic and carefree people brightens your aura too.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">-Wannabe Wayfarer</span></div>
</div>Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-90626391017797309222012-02-23T01:17:00.000-08:002012-02-29T01:53:14.053-08:00Six-month-a-versary<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Suprabhatam from Chennai. This is my third visit to this disciplined, orderly and relatively clean city. All three times, I was here for work. Today I complete 6 months as an article/intern with audit firm Deloitte Haskins & Sells or, the cooler version, “<b><span style="color: #1f497d;">Deloitte</span><span style="color: #92d050;">.</span></b>” – notice the green dot; and one of our clients is Ashok Leyland Ltd. Anyway, back to the green dot - I’m pretty fascinated by it. One of the reasons influencing my choice of Deloitte for my internship - apart from </span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7197853646231751238" name="_GoBack"></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">the fact that it is among the top four audit firms of the world – is the appeal of this green dot. Initially, I assumed that it probably signified environmental consciousness; and despite my curiosity, I never bothered to verify my conjecture.Yesterday, however, my unasked question was answered by a senior here. The full-stop implies that Deloitte is a one-stop-shop for all your corporate needs. Green because, well, auditors like the color green. Although the “environmentally conscious” logic would’ve pleased me more, I like this explanation too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Notice how I used the words “our client”? I like Deloitte. I like the feeling that I represent DHS. Additionally, atleast at my current assignment, I’m getting to learn truckloads; all the people around me are really helpful and co-operative. I may not have made any substantial or irreplaceable contribution to the audit just yet, but I hope to do soin my remaining 2.5 years as an intern. And I am confident that the people here will be rational enough to give me that opportunity. (No, unfortunately, none of my seniors are reading this blog.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">That’s it for now. Clerical crap awaits me this afternoon. Poittu Varen! (goodbye)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">-Wannabe Wayfarer</span></div>
</div>Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7197853646231751238.post-29661418318337476792012-02-18T09:23:00.000-08:002012-09-08T13:56:52.373-07:00First Love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<u><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Precursory statement: This is not about my first love.</span></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So, yet again, I bunked yet another class for yet another movie. Ek Deewana Tha today. And the world may give it half a star or none, I loved it. I loved it because it’s one of those movie experiences where I’m stuck to the seat even after the credits have started rolling and the movie itself plays in my head for the rest of the day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The possible scenarios for all typical Hindi romantic movies (not mutually exclusive):</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span>A lot of focus on “You never forget your first love”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span>LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span>Crazy jobless mawaali woos shy delicate princess</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span>Love vs. friendship</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span>A happy ever-after against ALL ODDS</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">There was nothing new or fresh about Ek Deewana Tha. Except Prateik. His dancing skills, acting and just him being so cute in love! For people who’ve seen (or will see) the movie, notice the way he hugs her at the Taj Mahal! ^_^</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Okay, less than 3 hours since I saw the movie and I cannot recall the name of his character. But his portrayal of that “i-would-die-for-her” kind of lover is etched in my mind. For the moment atleast. Probably because I’m being very sensitive about love this month. Why? I don’t know. Maybe it’s the winter. Winters always make me want to cozy up to somebody and thereafter realize that my ugly pink teddy bear needs a wash. Only during winters, I let myself go “Aww” on mush. Or when I’m eating a half kg tub of ice-cream. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Re-focusing (though there isn't much of a focal point here), while watching this typical romantic movie on a wintry February morning snuggling my hoodie, there were a few couples who came to my mind. I love real-life love stories and so I’ve heard a lot of them. Some were strikingly similar to this one. More than one was a LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. So fact remains, even if I have never experienced it, love at first sight happens. It’s one hundred percent real and possible. Though, in all the love stories - real as well as fiction- that I can think of, the whole love-at-first-sight emotion is stronger for the man. Because apparently the girl of his dreams is so shy, she doesn’t even look into his eyes. Pfft! I couldn’t be that shy even if I tried. So is the phenomenon exclusive to the ‘bashful boy – timid girl’ pair?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The way he looks at her… sigh! THAT, THAT makes me wish that someone falls in love with me. Just one look, and he decides, “She is the one. The girl I will marry. I love her.” Surreal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In most cases, like in this movie, the man’s first love is his love at first sight.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I want to be somebody’s first love. Someone he is madly in love with. Someone he will chase to the ends of the world. Someone he will never give up on. Someone who, for him, is his “biggest audience”.</span></div>
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<u><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Now, some bubble bursts:</span></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I don’t think love happens just once. Can’t you love more than one person to the same immeasurable extent?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Why is the woo-ing and chasing customarily boys’ domain? I want to pataao guys, cheesy pick-ups et al, without being labeled unpleasant things. I want to do crazy things for the one I love. Hmm.. Okay, this question I think I’m answering for myself. I would want to do all those things only if I’m sure he loves me back. Boys are probably more rejection-resistant that way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For the normal, non-breathtakingly-beautiful variety of human beings with a zillion things to work out, does love really find us?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Also, my over-analyzing alter ego, who I try to keep suppressed as much as possible, has a very disturbing theory; that one rarely marries the love of their lives. Most passionate love stories have depressing ends – war, death, or simply (and possibly the worst of its kind), living different lives with different people, away from each other. Apparently, the original EDT has a different ending – one where she ends up marrying a bloke from U.K.; not the happy ending which the audience sees.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Now that the alter ego is on the fore, might as well get this out of my system: Maybe it’s never about love. It’s just a trade-off. Weighing of options.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ‘U.K. + parents’ approval + stability + rich hubby’ package probably tilted the scales as opposed to ‘love’. Bleh.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Signing off,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The Ever Optimistic</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Wannabe Wayfarer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">P.S.: I do not know how to add audio, but if possible, listen to the music of Ek Deewana Tha. Particularly, Hosanna in Tamil. A.R. Rahman creates magic!</span></div>
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Harshika Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08117449286118453965noreply@blogger.com9