tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46022281092263899432024-03-13T04:55:16.336+05:30Mumbai MadrasiM'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.comBlogger103125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-11900872745751973602017-08-06T08:59:00.001+05:302017-08-06T08:59:06.288+05:30Her : 5<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>With a bouquet in his hands he stood at the cemetery gates, anxious like his first date.</i></span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He had never visited a graveyard before. But since she had now made this her abode forever</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>He had no options. </i></span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Amongst the rows of tombstones, he searched for hers. </i></div>
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<i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Recently placed, smooth polished black surface that was newly engraved and draped with flowers and tributes.</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>The aura around her was nothing like the dead. He sensed a mysterious verve in her air</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>If only, he had known earlier he would have met her once,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>but weren’t they destined to meet this way?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>He placed the bouquet of flowers beside her grave, his eyes brimmed with tears.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>He stood there for long time, spoke nothing but watching her, without a blink of eye</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Grief and gratitude filled his eyes, which were once hers.</i></span></div>
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Read the other posts in the HER series here : </div>
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<a href="http://revathipillai.blogspot.in/2012/11/her.html">HER - 1</a></div>
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<a href="http://revathipillai.blogspot.in/2012/12/her-2_10.html">HER - 2</a></div>
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<a href="http://revathipillai.blogspot.in/2014/07/her-3.html">HER - 3</a><br />
<a href="http://revathipillai.blogspot.in/2015/10/her-4-blots-of-mind.html">HER - 5</a></div>
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-52684560121970655622017-05-03T10:54:00.000+05:302017-05-03T10:54:10.552+05:30The stranger<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The stranger at the coffee house <br />
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As she finished the last sip of her coffee, her gaze accidentally met that of an
young man seated on the table across her <br />
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He was indeed handsome. She couldn't help blush, occasionally sipping the imaginary coffee from the empty cup. Smitten by his
smile, she returned another smile. <br />
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She wondered if she should approach him with a Hi. But all he did was Stranger smile,
wasn't that too early? <br />
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Smitten by him, she didn't realize that her phone had been buzzing since a
while , and as she checked the messages she saw him stand up. Her heart skipped
a beat. He took the walking stick that rested on the chair next to him.. And
walked past her carefully taking every step. The waiter assisted him get down
the stairs! <br />
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She couldn't help but laugh. She owned it to the stranger. The blind stranger <o:p></o:p></div>
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-54385033776192368272016-07-02T10:58:00.000+05:302016-07-02T10:58:16.045+05:30Unheard<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The bus crawled slowly on the badly tarred road.</div>
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She constantly ranted about all the problems in her life and all he did was stare at the deserted landscape outside .<br />Although She demanded a response , he did not reply. She was used to this ignorance by him these days. She leaned towards him, and placed the earpiece back in his ears. He looked at her, puzzled, "Did you say something?"</div>
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"No ", she smiled.</div>
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-34394682845066706622016-03-09T16:15:00.003+05:302016-03-09T16:40:55.455+05:30The Forgotten dream<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-27598433620711976902016-03-08T22:27:00.000+05:302016-03-08T22:27:26.424+05:30Shades of Life - Releasing 23rd March<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="color: #2b2b2b;">This week has been a very happy week for me since it began with the good news of the release of the book-</span><b><span style="color: blue;"> Colors : shades of Life</span></b><span style="color: #2b2b2b;">. My short story ‘<b>Gulmohar</b>’ is a part of this wonderful anthology, and am super excited for its release.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #2b2b2b; font-family: Cambria, serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;">Shades of Life, is an anthology that is all set to release on 23rd of March. Analogous to its title-‘Colors’, Holi, the day of </span><span style="font-size: 15px;">colors</span><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"> is going to mark its launch. It is a collection of short stories and poems that reflect various aspects of life, thus </span><span style="font-size: 15px;">centered</span><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"> around a similar theme.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://gmsaravana.files.wordpress.com/2016/03/book-cover.jpg?w=474" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Shades Of Life" border="0" height="459" src="https://gmsaravana.files.wordpress.com/2016/03/book-cover.jpg?w=474" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #2b2b2b; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; 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;">It is the dream project of Sarav, a.k.a.
‘<a href="http://iamsarav.com/published-works/colors-shades-of-life/">Someone is special</a>’, who is very much known to most of the members of
the blogosphere</span><br />
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<span style="color: #2b2b2b; font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">My association with this project began when I first saw the poster of a competition hosted by Sarav, inviting Stories for a soon to be published book. This was of course a grabbing opportunity for any blogger like me. When I emailed my entry, at the last moment little did I hope to qualify although I waited curiously for the results to be announced.</span><span style="color: #2b2b2b; font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">Right from the day of announcement of results until today, It has been a smooth journey, thanks to the editor!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #2b2b2b; font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">The book has multiple authors, featuring short stories and poems penned by them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="color: #2b2b2b;">This book also includes guest stories by Prolific writers like </span><span style="color: blue; font-weight: bold;">Namrata (Privy Trifles)</span><span style="color: #2b2b2b; font-weight: bold;"> and </span><span style="color: blue; font-weight: bold;">Neelam Saxena.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">V</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 11.5pt;">init. K. Bansal, the bestselling author of Soulmates – Love without Ownership has to say :</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Blurb<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2b2b2b; font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><i>Life is a supernova of emotions, a multi-colored extravaganza and a celebration of colors that carve a way for us to be “expressive”. These colors often vary from situation to situation. They may be vibrant, bright and attractive, or even bland and gloomy. Nevertheless, they invoke the soul from within and portray the various dimensions of life.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2b2b2b; font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 11.5pt;"><i>Come and explore the various shades of life – from the lighter tones of friendship and love to the murkier hues of revenge and murder – of human beings, of how their personalities and their situations mould them into their real selves – in this anthology of prose and verse, from authors across the world, Shades of Life.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 16.5pt; text-align: left;"><b> </b></o:p><span style="color: #2b2b2b; font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 16.5pt;">Amazon:<a href="https://www.blogger.com/goog_1648641614"> </a></span><span style="color: #2b2b2b; font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 16.5pt;"><a href="http://amzn.to/1njjwXD">http://amzn.to/1njjwXD</a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2b2b2b; font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 16.5pt;">Goodreads: </span><span style="color: #2b2b2b; font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 16.5pt;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29410020-shades-of-life" target="_blank">https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29410020-shades-of-life</a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2b2b2b; font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 16.5pt;">Facebook
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/goog_1648641617">: </a></span><span style="color: #2b2b2b; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/ShadesOfLifeBook/">https://www.facebook.com/ShadesOfLifeBook/</a></span></div>
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can take up the Goodreads Quiz , <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/quizzes/1118701-to-all-who-read-shades-of-life-edited-by-saravana-kumar-murugan">here</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2b2b2b; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">March
23 it is, And I guarantee the book is going to be a good treat indeed!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-10255093697406234932015-12-22T15:08:00.000+05:302015-12-22T15:08:05.599+05:30The bride<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>As he approached the Dias, her heart almost skipped one
beat. She lowered her gaze to avoid meeting his eyes. A bizarre fear alarmed her. She felt very week,
and tired. </i></div>
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<i>She could feel him advancing
towards her. She silently wished to escape from the place, However that was the
last thing a bride could imagine to happen at her wedding reception. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>She heard him speak to her father, His giggle resonated a
ruthless guffaw in her ears. She could feel his presence nearing her. </i></div>
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<i>He
congratulated the bridegroom; she still refused to lift her gaze. She had assassinated him countless times in
her thoughts. She dreaded of his touch. </i></div>
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<i>The last time he had touched her, she remembered
being tied to the edge of the bed. Every time he would play this strange game
with her that meant exploring the diamond that every kid has hidden between their
legs. </i></div>
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<i>Even though it hurt her, she never told her parents about this game. Only
when she grew up, did she recognize the demon in her maternal uncle who was now
settled in the USA.</i></div>
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<i> Every time he visited, she excused to escape from the
vicinity.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>But today, she was helpless. For a moment she almost stepped
to walk out of the stage, when a tight grasp held her back. </i></div>
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<i>That is when she
raised her gaze to look at her husband. He blinked his eyes in assurance. She could
feel her dread and anxiety vaporize. </i></div>
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<i>Bless the moment she decided to speak
about it to her fiancé .</i></div>
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<i>She stopped to Smile at the cameras for the last
photograph of her wedding alongside the biggest fear of her life on her left
and the strength to fight against it on her right.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://www.1ohww.org/content/uploads/2014/04/indian-bride-and-groom-holding-hands.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PIcture courtesy : <a href="http://www.1ohww.org/content/uploads/2014/04/indian-bride-and-groom-holding-hands.jpg">Here</a></td></tr>
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-3206176465180574862015-11-26T15:55:00.000+05:302015-11-26T15:55:00.085+05:30Suggestions Welcome !<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There is this idea in my mind from a long time !<br />
Since few months I have been talking about this to multiple friends of mine, the result of which has been futile.<br />
All that they could reply was, it is indeed a good idea. But it will take a lot of effort to volunteer.<br />
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And thus it remains an orphaned idea, still wandering in my mind searching ways to implement it<br />
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A couple of us were enjoying our regular weekend evening gupshup when we spotted kids aged around four to five years old begging for alms.<br />
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It didn't matter to them at all when we bought a plate of samosas and gave them, infact in few seconds many other kids of the same age gathered together and shared that single plate of samosas . This alarmed us that these were the kids deprived of proper food, perhaps the money that they earned out of begging is snatched by their leaders, leaving them deprived of food. That is when this idea struck me.<br />
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For instance, if we take an example of a small scale office. If each employee of the office bring one chapati extra,(which doesn't involve any effort from their side) , perhaps we can accumulate all the extra chapati and give to these people at traffic signals or public places . Agreed, it is easy to collect the food, however the question is in distributing it. I need suggestions for this . If at all you have any idea of any such existing groups, who can be of help in implementing it, please forward it to them .<br />
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We can also implement such ideas in a Housing society. Making a chapati extra, is not an hard task at home, we could collect this from each apartment in the society and distribute to the needy I am totally unaware as to how to start implementing this and so one of my brain cell suggested why not put in on your blog .And so here it is !<br />
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And the comment box is open below ! If at all this idea strikes you any good way , please pull that hand of the mouse and reach to the key board and let me know about it !<br />
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-2732302246839794362015-11-26T15:54:00.000+05:302015-11-26T15:54:18.626+05:30Happy birthday!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>It is not always that I write a birthday post . but you are an exception :P</i><br />
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<i>I owe all the gratitude solely to my blog,perhaps partly to the IBL (Indian bloggers league) , If it were not for these you would not have happened to me. </i><br />
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<i>You are the best thing that has ever happened to me on the blogosphere. </i><br />
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<i>Three years ago, when the first IBL was launched , I was the least interactive in the 'West India' team. Thanks to the introvert-Why should I start- I am so new attitude in me. </i><br />
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<i>Honestly I do not remember how our friendship began. From team discussions to formal introductions, personal chats, couple of meetings, little did we realize that a beautiful friendship was budding between the two of us.</i><br />
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<i>And like they say in the movies, It just happened. And here we are .</i><br />
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<i>You are as beautiful as the innocence inside you. I agree you have that ability to go on speaking with the highest word count per minute, and give the listener the exact aura of this is how you talk to a radio feel. No I am not kidding. Still you are the first person I long to talk to when I am low. Exceptions if any, well you know that</i><br />
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<i>From mood swings to cake recipe, gossips to bitching , ranting, Startup ideas to Fed up of life talks, You have always been my best girl friend forever . I had always believed the friendships made online in the virtual world are temporary. It hardly goes beyond the so called nice comments or formal greetings. Some people find their way from the readers list to the facebook friend list , find place in the comments and statuses , added to whatsapp list only to view the status and display pictures. And then there are very few friendships that touch you, surpass the cloud of internet and actually find a meaningful place in your life. And you are one of them</i><br />
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<i>Happy birthday to my soul sister, to my proofreader, my official cooking advisor, my forever available chitchatter , my stress buster, My hour before exam teacher , my best friend <a href="http://duskndawn-fatima.blogspot.in/">Clandestine redezvous !</a></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Honestly, I am clueless What I would do without You !</i></span></h4>
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<i>Never change yourself, you are incredible.</i><br />
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<i>WIth love ,</i><br />
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<img height="181" src="https://www.harveyprince.com/online-perfume-store/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/image1.jpeg" width="200" /><br />
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-50559557578274349852015-11-26T15:06:00.003+05:302015-11-26T15:06:59.113+05:30Suggestions Welcome!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There is this idea in my mind from a long time !<br />
Since few months I have been talking about this to multiple friends of mine, the result of which has been futile.<br />
All that they could reply was, it is indeed a good idea. But it will take a lot of effort to volunteer.<br />
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And thus it remains an orphaned idea, still wandering in my mind searching ways to implement it<br />
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A couple of us were enjoying our regular weekend evening gupshup when we spotted kids aged around four to five years old begging for alms.<br />
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It didn't matter to them at all when we bought a plate of samosas and gave them, infact in few seconds many other kids of the same age gathered together and shared that single plate of samosas . This alarmed us that these were the kids deprived of proper food, perhaps the money that they earned out of begging is snatched by their leaders, leaving them deprived of food. That is when this idea struck me.<br />
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For instance, if we take an example of a small scale office. If each employee of the office bring one chapati extra,(which doesn't involve any effort from their side) , perhaps we can accumulate all the extra chapati and give to these people at traffic signals or public places . Agreed, it is easy to collect the food, however the question is in distributing it. I need suggestions for this . If at all you have any idea of any such existing groups, who can be of help in implementing it, please forward it to them .<br />
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We can also implement such ideas in a Housing society. Making a chapati extra, is not an hard task at home, we could collect this from each apartment in the society and distribute to the needy I am totally unaware as to how to start implementing this and so one of my brain cell suggested why not put in on your blog .And so here it is !<br />
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And the comment box is open below ! If at all this idea strikes you any good way , please pull that hand of the mouse and reach to the key board and let me know about it !<br />
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-6873208387709271742015-11-23T19:47:00.002+05:302015-11-23T19:47:25.920+05:3055 fiction : Perspective<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>The constant honk at the traffic junction annoyed him, and
above he was late for the client meeting.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i> Joe stared at the dark clouds, blaming
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Somewhere across the street, a little kid
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-37347625540362457982015-10-01T18:48:00.002+05:302015-10-01T18:48:19.937+05:30Her - 4 : Blots of mind<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>The dim lit crammed bedroom scared her. Though
the incense stick lit in the corner seemed to fill the room with its fresh scent,
it couldn’t conceal the smell of fresh cow dung coated on the mud walls. She sat
silently on the bed, her head dug into her knees. The only source of light was
the moonlight that paved its way through the irregularly thatched roof. Her heart beat aloud in sync with the cricket
chirping outside. Had she tried to convince her baba once, she could
have at least had a chance of avoiding an early marriage. The new house, soon
to be her permanent abode seemed no less than a dungeon. She heard the wooden door drag on the mud floor.
She could feel his presence in the room. As he approached her towards the bed, she pulled
her legs closer to her belly. A strange fear consumed her. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>He lifted her chin with his left hand
and looked into the anxious eyes that exhibited her dissent. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>“Go to sleep”, he commanded as he
moved out of the room with the blankets.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>*********************************************************************************<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>Eight decades later, she admired
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<i>She helped her fit the hairband on the
tiny head. As she saw the little girl foot dragging, it reminded her of the
seven year old her who silently surrendered to the fate when she was married to a man,
twenty years older than her.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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Read the other posts in the HER series here : </div>
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<a href="http://revathipillai.blogspot.in/2012/11/her.html">HER - 1</a></div>
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<a href="http://revathipillai.blogspot.in/2012/12/her-2_10.html">HER - 2</a></div>
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<a href="http://revathipillai.blogspot.in/2014/07/her-3.html">HER - 3</a></div>
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-29975965875596909232015-06-06T19:21:00.002+05:302015-06-06T20:04:44.886+05:30Happy Five to you! :)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>TaTada,, Five years of togetherness! You and me ! </i></div>
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<i>You are the best decision I have ever made in my life . You have been the best companion I ever met. In my days of joy and sorrow, alike, you have supported me. </i></div>
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<i>You have been with me during those sleepless nights of molding stories, </i></div>
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<i>You have faced my writer’s block ,The reader’s view and The coder’s experiments ! </i></div>
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<i>You have gifted me the best friendships I would ever Cherish, My first story in print , , And thank you for that special smile you get me Whenever I go through your pages!</i></div>
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<i>Happy Fifth Birthday My dear Blog! I love you </i></div>
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<i>Five years ago, out of vacation boredom, I started writing this blog! With a couple of writing Ideas and a funny blog title , this was born. </i></div>
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<i>Five years from that day, I have wished many times I blogged frequently. </i></div>
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<i>Blogging is not easy. It starts out of pure excitement, but its terrible when you experience the ignorance towards blog dilemma.. I have utmost respect to the ones who can blog regularly!</i></div>
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<i>I am hesitant to call myself a blogger, since I am the one who writes on any day , very less frequently .</i></div>
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<i>I know 69550 page views and 90 published blog post aint that big an achievement for a fiver year old blog! </i></div>
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<i>Given that I write only when the writer bug bites me</i></div>
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<i>I have always wanted to do this thank you speech: P And today am gifting myself one such chance.</i></div>
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<i>I am extremely thankful to all my readers for taking that little effort to read through the entire post and the ones with the extra effort to subscribe and comment on the blog! That really inspires me.</i></div>
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<i>Thanks to google for bringing me those readers and thanks to the blog title ‘Madrasi ’ for bringing me the most number of page views .</i></div>
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<i>And Thanks to Blogadda and Indiblogger for giving me reasons to blog at certain times.</i></div>
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<i>And am Thankful to you my blog for letting me know there are more like minded species on earth.</i></div>
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<i> And <a href="https://www.blogger.com/profile/09407541725369570472" target="_blank">you</a> stand a special place in my heart.</i></div>
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<i>And <a href="http://www.deepakkarthik.com/" target="_blank">you</a>! And <a href="http://vicky-pedia.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">you</a>! </i></div>
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<i>And <a href="http://rohitvmindcrunches.blogspot.com/2010/08/frames-of-freedom-contest.html" target="_blank">You!</a>.. Thanks for this. </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqgbGMuzDi3K8tkcaZ_eOBznFd05p3QLOmfIJbnOu5kazVxSNKaHPFUoXolVoVQ6wccAKKvCgHjXHHooHB2whfvuT9d1GGy-VRFJdpv0Kzey7FuhkO7RqC4j_uU8YOdqOY8rXP9p3Udpra/s1600/unfin+copy2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><i><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqgbGMuzDi3K8tkcaZ_eOBznFd05p3QLOmfIJbnOu5kazVxSNKaHPFUoXolVoVQ6wccAKKvCgHjXHHooHB2whfvuT9d1GGy-VRFJdpv0Kzey7FuhkO7RqC4j_uU8YOdqOY8rXP9p3Udpra/s200/unfin+copy2.png" width="200" /></i></a></div>
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<i>Thanks to the Westerlies and the Bloggywood public for being a wonderful gang :) </i></div>
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<i>Thank you <a href="https://www.blogger.com/profile/02189924874350906456" target="_blank">Sir</a> for your constant feed back ,, And thanks <a href="https://www.blogger.com/profile/05790347071764332430" target="_blank">SG</a> for the first ever comment on my blog Thanks to all the regular commentors on my blog , especially the ones who went beyond 'nice ' and provided the best feedback for my writing.</i></div>
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<i>Thank you blogger for giving us more options than the classic design template! </i></div>
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<i>Thank you Papa for regularly recharging the internet pack and Thank you Amma for reminding him</i></div>
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<i>And thank YOU for reading this big dramatic thank you speech </i></div>
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<i>And Finally </i></div>
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<i>Happy Five to you Mumbai Madrasi :)</i></div>
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-12343178064902471342015-03-15T10:51:00.000+05:302015-09-04T18:58:03.451+05:30The bruised Godddess<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWpb2EO2vk8Lq1rVaVD5laUq_PyGiY20b6MlTP3pvBcsYQUCCUiWJ3rMVm4DoZIZaJh-qfXAIxiyzBSTXg4v_Ivq8b0aTSZMUIwvRA8JkqpEREA_KKKQEzpHrSEkppXjF6-NtRKEtvOHA/s1600/wowbadge.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWpb2EO2vk8Lq1rVaVD5laUq_PyGiY20b6MlTP3pvBcsYQUCCUiWJ3rMVm4DoZIZaJh-qfXAIxiyzBSTXg4v_Ivq8b0aTSZMUIwvRA8JkqpEREA_KKKQEzpHrSEkppXjF6-NtRKEtvOHA/s1600/wowbadge.png" /></a></div>
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He could not take his eyes of her radiant face; all though they lacked colours, there was something that fascinated him. He decided to use brown shades for her eyebrow that would complement the hair. He knew this is going to be one of his finest art works. She had well set sharp little eyes. He cautiously painted the eyelashes that only added to her charm.<br />
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<i>When the guys at arts club decided to decorate the Durga Pandal after school hours, she knew she would have to return home alone. The sun had set, and the colour of the fading sunset to darkness scared her. Reportedly her city was unsafe for girls. She took a cab even though her home was only twenty minutes to walk from the Highway. Fear lingered in her little eyes and tension gulped her face. </i><br />
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The last stroke gave the perfect sharpness to the face. His daughter had designed the nose ring that he carefully fixed at the edge of the nose. The face seemed perfect. And he stared at the pale lips clueless of the shades for them and kept it incomplete for the final phase.<br />
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<i>His stare was very uncomfortable. She could see him glare at her through the side mirror. She kept her gaze down hoping to reach home soon, until he changed the road and raced the vehicle. In no time few other men hacked into the vehicle and covered her mouth. She was helpless, Could neither scream for help or save her from their tight grip. </i><br />
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He cautiously drew altar patterns on her right hand. Traditionally, every year he had reserved this special red Sari for his most special idol. He draped it across the idol and polished the jewels before final dressing. He gave the final touch to the Sudarshan chakra in one of her hands and gently placed the Trishul in the other. The Goddess looked complete now besides the smile that he had delayed to paint.<br />
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<i>Blood stains blotted her sky-blue uniform and red dark bruises scarred her right hand. She could not move. She looked helplessly at the distant road, they had fled. She repented at her futile attempts at fighting back to the devils. If only she had the command. She cried. But no one heard. The loud garba songs echoed in the air.</i><br />
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The final shade at her lips completed the idol. He gave them a thick red lining at the border and finished until they had the sparkly gloss he sought. However hard he tried to paint the smile, she looked lifeless.<br />
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What he expected to be his best work, failed at the end.<br />
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<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/AVvXsEgOj8IzOLtYK-GIAxR8jMmiVrtAQO7LPCfLBxrpMDDpb8ZA0Mf_5ZfXkJnwRVWxYa5lcjGTQrQJlpOHQ-5PmtCg7zgaG6lIEgqV76aep0KOU50aDNVkPBruep-EnZONN5oFChQmH30HKbo/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOj8IzOLtYK-GIAxR8jMmiVrtAQO7LPCfLBxrpMDDpb8ZA0Mf_5ZfXkJnwRVWxYa5lcjGTQrQJlpOHQ-5PmtCg7zgaG6lIEgqV76aep0KOU50aDNVkPBruep-EnZONN5oFChQmH30HKbo/s1600/images.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">courtesy : http://www.thehindu.com/features/the-yin-thing/goddess-under-attack/article5129205.ece</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<strong style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">This post is a part of <a href="http://blog.blogadda.com/category/write-over-the-weekend-wow" style="color: #b85b5a; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="Write Over the Weekend">Write Over the Weekend</a>, an initiative for <a href="http://www.blogadda.com/" style="color: #b85b5a; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="Indian Bloggers">Indian Bloggers</a> by BlogAdda.</strong><br />
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-60146052345184491552015-03-10T17:15:00.000+05:302015-03-10T17:21:36.133+05:30The night decision<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Half of our life is spent in figuring out what next; what next after school, and then after college. What next after achieving the dream job and then the story continues until in the other half you realize what not could have be done instead of worrying. The worst part is when you exactly know what should be done next, and you are helpless due to many other insignificant factors.</div>
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You wish to go a solo trip, but parents think that is too outward. You wish to cut your hair short but that isn't traditional, you might wish to marry the guy you love, but then he isn't a Brahman. You love the job you do, but you have night shifts. By the time you make your decision after the entire filtering process you are unsure of your own decisions.</div>
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For me when the recruiter said this is going to a job profile where you cannot expect a comfortable 8 am to 5 pm soar your legs type of job, I was only excited. I did not know this had more challenges than the technical ones. The Gupta Aunty wondered if I work in a BPO since I went to office at odd hours, Chotu asked if I have the funky Headset like they have in the call centers, and the girl on the second floor decided not to work in IT Company just because she has seen me working in odd shifts.</div>
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At a workplace where you know you love the job , you are sure you will be safe and sound until you reach home, moreover you are happy at what you are doing , Why should the ‘night shift taboo’ affect your decision.</div>
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The day, I realized I have to occasionally work in night shifts, I was terrified as well. For me people worked during nights were the call center public. An Engineer hardly does. But thanks to the idea of outsourcing and we will work for any country attitude of our fellowmen, night shifts are cool. </div>
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My mom was worried what it would do to my health, my dad worried the safety and both worried about the girl working in night shift taboo. I knew if I denied this opportunity they might assign me a day project, but I could have missed something I really wanted to learn. I might not be able to practically witness what I had learnt in the technical books. I decided now when I have the freedom to choose, and experiment I should try this. It might turn out to be a not so good decision, but I would hardly lose anything. And here I am writing this post after a good day of sleep after returning from my last night shift of this month</div>
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Sometimes once or twice in a month I have to do the 10 pm -7 am shifts. I do agree it is not advised to work regularly in this timing; however one should at least try it once in life. For working at peace without your boss around is a fortune indeed. When you work in night shift you make friends with the canteen guy, the receptionist, realize that the vending machine is your best friend and the half hour nap break is heaven. That feeling of returning home at the comfort of your cab when others rush to get the 8.58 train is indeed one worth the devilish smile. </div>
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Sometimes, taking risks to take your own decision is not bad at all .Just like the one you will find it <a href="https://housing.com/" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/1FXdCjk505w/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/1FXdCjk505w?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
Disclaimer : These are solely my views, Your views may contradict mine. That's okay . After all we all have own unique viewpoints.</div>
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-28907422574416921212015-03-10T05:08:00.001+05:302015-03-10T05:09:07.868+05:30The other side<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Wikipedia defines optimism as an attitude that interprets
things in a best or optimized way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not
always the glass half-filled story can be used to define optimism. It is not
about the half empty or the half-filled glass that would define the best things,
it is when you are tired almost on the verge to fall and you find this ray of
hope which truly changes your mindset about the present.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I would say you can explore the optimist in you any moment.
If at all you are driving back from work, with an exhausted stressful mind, all
that is required is a cool breeze to awaken the optimist in you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This thing happened to me very recently. We had our first
semester examination, and being a working student it is very difficult to cope
up with your studies in parallel to your work. I could hardly finish reading 70%
of my syllabus and was extremely worried about the exam. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And then on my way to the exam, we had to board this local
train. Across the passage, at the door I saw a very cheerful lady who looked
very normal, happy, no worries from her face and according to me, I would have been
the most stressed person in that local train, I envied that lady for the kind
of carefree attitude she possessed. How lucky is she that she has no unprepared
university exams to attend.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Trying to be the positive one, I made myself believe that
the exam is going to be in my favor. I stood up from my seat to walk towards
the door. To my surprise this lady looked way different than what she seemed to
me from my seat. What I had not seen was her walking stick and a handicapped
leg. That was not the end of the story. Beside her was a bag of Hair clips and
other accessories which took me no time to realize she was a saleswoman, to be
precise train-to-train saleswoman. And when the train halted at the next
railway station she gracefully got down the train onto the platform with the
support of her walking stick and lifted the bag balancing it very well on her
right shoulder. For a moment it made me rethink about my luck. Her cheerful
attitude to the hardships in her life is what you call optimism. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And then I realized, I have a chance to attempt my exams,
perhaps a pass or a failed result. But it would not make my life any harder; in
fact I might get another chance as well to give a second attempt at the very
same exam. There are not many people who get chances or have hopes for another
attempt at the exams in their life. Compared to their problems, the exam stress
I underwent was insignificant. And that is how a real life inspired the optimist
in me and I learnt what optimism is. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is not just a perception, But living one’s life according
to that perception. Check that<a href="https://housing.com/lookup" target="_blank"> here</a> </span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-51663063996258598812015-02-09T17:46:00.000+05:302015-02-09T20:32:14.022+05:30Twenty something<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
</div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
</div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am twenty two and I am worried where it’s going,<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then you say, it’s early to start worrying.<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sometimes you ask, what my plan is for the future,<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And there I’m still clueless, end up pretending to be a loser<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
</div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I dream the life of a wanderer, I say,<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Around the country, and the world over<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But then you say how do you plan to settle further<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And there am left confused, moreover<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am twenty two, at the prime of my youth hood<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
</div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Even though I still yearn to go back to my childhood<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
</div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Back to the time when I fancied growing up<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And caution, Oh my mind! Please shut up<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It’s tough to be in your twenties, you miss those friendship<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">That now exists only in the Facebook news feed.<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
</div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I always wish to add it to the cart,<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Only to close the browser back to the start<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">OH ! why is twenty always confused at heart.<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
</div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You tell me don’t make friends with any stranger so soon<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then you bring me an unknown bridegroom?<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I make friends, I make love, I make cake and I make worksheets<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Believe me the above line is pointless, totally irrelevant<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But so is my life to you, the aunty who lives across the street<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Why do you bother so much? Do I have to make it more evident?<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">They will talk, advise, stand beside, and perhaps sympathize<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But then ultimately you have to live your life<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
</div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So what if it’s twenty? Live life king size<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
</div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Laugh, love, dream, follow your heart<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If you stumble, there is always a new start<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Why plan, learn to take a chance<u></u><u></u></span></i></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Coz someone has said, twenty happens only once</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<img height="200" src="http://s.hswstatic.com/gif/how-to-draw-people-5.jpg" width="122" /></div>
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-34173890980478903262015-01-24T21:15:00.002+05:302016-08-07T00:47:01.008+05:30Every Non Resident Keralite (NRK)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>1.When it comes to heroes, We love Mohanlal, or Mamooty . Period. </b></span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><img height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqQ-wMGEDS6EWlLfMExXkijU3CTkW5wabX28BzOWBVQ7e0BYrulL2shOrr7x4oqoLTFr-xrnORdX7B-Sbw1nGbhhM1mlKYvFSccPigHb2iyydz27l7kYrxGU74BjNheBN1l6vurZlov3s/s320/38.jpg" width="320" /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Okay, there is an Exception.</b></span></div>
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" 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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>2.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We do not eat only idli - dosa for food.Food is not just idli and dosa for Malayalis.</b></span></h3>
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<b style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">3.We have at least one Ungle in the Gelf </span></span><i style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">(Dubai+Abudhabhi+Sharjah+Saudi+Maasscat+Doha)</span></i></span></b></div>
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<b>and we do preserve the Arabic scripted soaps and shampoos in our closet.</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>4.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If you are a Non resident Keralite , and we accidentally meet, the first question is “Where are you from?” I admit the sole purpose of this question is to recognize the version of Malayalam you speak. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>5.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It is not just Malayalam,, There are different Malayalam(s). –north, south, east and west.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>6.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We already know the stories of many a Bollywood movies, cause they were first made in Malayalam, and mind you those were far better.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>7.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We do mock the accent of our fellow mallus, especially you are <i>just imported</i> from kerala. </b></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><b>Image courtesy : http://rethish-caricature.blogspot.com/2012_02_01_archive.html</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>8.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Ever heard 'tapioca'? We love it. Its our staple diet, I repeat it isn’t Idli and dosa.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>9.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Food isn’t tasty if there is no coconut in it, atleast it requires a drop of coconut milk. And cholesterol is our birthright</b></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><img height="320" src="https://s2.quickmeme.com/img/be/beddfac52bef2753c51972134b691b952b7c3c36a5c3da6f652de11f2646c303.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></b></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><b>http://www.quickmeme.com/meme/35d2rd</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>10.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Point 8 revisited. Parotta. + Chicken curry. I repeat, it is not just rice.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>11.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Politics is not just BJP or Congress. It bleeds red for a mallu.<span style="color: red;"> Lal Salam.</span> </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>12.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Babaji ka thullu had its origin in Kerala, and it was named, ‘shitt’.Just remember that.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>13.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We love speaking only in Hindi and English from the very moment we land in Kerala. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>14.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> You dance in the disco and go crazy? Try this someday</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>16.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And this</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>17.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And finding a fellow Mallu in the crowd is relief. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>And spotting a north indian in Kerala when you are on a vacation , is a matter of pride<i>," aur bhaiya kaise ho! "</i> . And then you look around with a raised collar.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>18.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We are proud Kerala is 100% literate. And also secretly proud that <span style="color: red;">we were not </span>educated in Kerala.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>19.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Before Sreeshanth there was this guy, we were proud of </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>20.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Last , We are not Madrasis. It is Malayali. Or the MALLU</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>This video is very interesting, If you are a malayali you will laugh holding your stomach.</b></span></span><br />
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-81123333884569678252015-01-06T19:38:00.002+05:302015-01-06T21:07:04.317+05:30A Letter to my 'Would be' son <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>Hello Son-in-future,</i></div>
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<i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I do not know the exact time for when you will be reading this letter. I do not know how the world </span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">around you would have evolved by then. For now, your mother is 22, clueless about where her life is dragging her along. Perhaps to an ambitious world, I am presently spending my days in a beautiful world that bears some stained humanity with occasional happiness and sorrow, just like a day you are going to feel in your twenties.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">As I am penning this letter on my father’s laptop, perhaps you might be reading the message on your </span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">iPhone or whatever the better gadgets was invented then.For me, world has changed drastically in a decade. I miss cartoon network. I miss Poppins. I miss Mario.</span><o:p> </o:p></i></div>
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<i><o:p><br /></o:p>Oh sorry you might not know them.</i><br />
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<i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">However, the purpose of this letter is not to enlighten you about cartoon series, or to bore you about </span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">lives of my days, but to tell you how I wish my son should be like. </span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">And how I wish every son around me could be like.</span></i></div>
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<i>Baby, there are going to be many Women in your life. <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">As your Girlfriend, your Wife, or your sister, perhaps a best friend forever or your daughter and even if you chose to be a Bachelor, you and like any other creature will have a mother who is woman.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>Respect them.</i><br />
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<i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Your mom was not sent to Earth on a mission for keep doing all your domestic chores all through her life . Learn to wash your clothes by yourself. Take efforts to lift that plate after Dinner and walk up to the kitchen sink, these small deeds will make her smile.</span>Do not ask her, “How does me doing things, affect you? “.
It does. It affects her motherhood. Before you hurt her, For once look
through her eyes, Place yourself in her shoes, I am sure you will have a
different perspective then.</i></div>
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<i>You are NOT always right. She has an experience of life few
decades more than you. And you always know experience make a (Wo) man perfect.
For you have always had to lose the first set of games on your Xbox multiple
times before you mastered them. She is a better player in the game of Life.</i></div>
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<i>Let the hands that once protected you, hold yours for
protection some day. Never abandon her.</i></div>
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<i>Talking of other women in your life, do not worry. It is
not difficult to understand Women. All it takes is to ask her in the language
of love.</i></div>
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<i>And love, It is okay to fall in love. It is also okay to go
through a heart break. However that does not make every girl disloyal. Do not
blame anyone for your mistakes. Have Patience. Love does come back to you. It
has to.And if it comes back to you, do not hesitate. Tell her that
you love her. For things need to be said, Life is not about regrets. Love her,
propose her and marry her and do not wait till I tell you to register on a
matrimonial website.</i></div>
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<i>And then about your wife, she is not your responsibility
and she wasn't married to you to lessen your mom’s burden at household
chores. She wasn't married to you to dry the towel that you throw away after
you bath. She has her life. You do not possess her. Let her be alongside you
and not behind you. Let her dream, and support her to fulfill them. Love her.</i></div>
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<i><o:p><br /></o:p>Never sell yourself for I have not raised you to be sold at
a bright lit ceremony called marriage in exchange of an expensive four wheeler.
Salary does matter, but son, Character matters more.</i></div>
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<i>Respect Womanhood. If you act, your sons will, your friends
will and eventually the society will. Perhaps, you cannot change the world, but
you can change yourself.</i><br />
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<i>Every Lady menstruates. Your mother does, your wife will
and your daughter will. It is not something that needs to be hidden from you.
Support her during those days. Boy it’s no easy to live a normal life for a
week every month whilst you know you are bleeding inside your pants. She can be
touched.</i></div>
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<i>Moreover, Never Judge a girl on the basis of her
attire. Any day. She has the right to decide how to ornament her body. If
she is eve teased, molested, or raped, she is NOT at fault.</i></div>
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<i>You do not have to blame the government, or the system, or
the society for being passive. They are not the direct cause of a rape,
individuals make a society. If she is a victim, support her, else protect her
from being a victim, moreover you please do not make her a victim.</i></div>
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<i>Love your country. If you can’t be at the borders fighting
for the nation, at least protect the peace within the country. Do not
overestimate you religion or underestimate someone else’s faith.</i></div>
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<i>Do not take things for granted. The foot path or the drains
have not been constructed by your father so that you can make it your private
property. Learn to hold it for few minutes until you reach home or a toilet. It
is Possible. Your sister does that most of the time.</i><br />
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<i>And last but not the least, Boys can cry. Men
shouldn't always tighten their fist, but they should learn to let it loose to
wipe tears.</i></div>
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<i>Smile.</i></div>
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<i><o:p> </o:p>With Love,</i><br />
<i>Your mom-in-future.</i><br />
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-49722856562173842772014-12-08T11:54:00.000+05:302014-12-08T11:56:36.159+05:3015 Things to my 15 Year old self<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I often wish if only I could grab the time that I missed. Perhaps go back to the Good old days and may be rectify or not commit certain mistakes, If ever I had a chance to tell my Fifteen year old self , 'Please stop there! you aint doing that any more ' , then perhaps it would go like this<br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>1.No Sweet heart , scoring below 90 does not mean shame. In fact you will always be a 60 something student in your college. And FYI you are going to flunk in your final year end semester exam.And the feeling of experiencing success after a failure is much more sweeter.</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>2.Please learn to chew your food. Else it is going to make you fat .</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>3.Stop missing your old school crush, he is going to turn bald in few years and you are going to feel very happy.</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>4.Respect your Teachers. Stop complaining. Managers are more terrible.</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>5. Please do not stop attending dance classes out of laziness. Continue it. Pursue you hobby. It relieves you in times of stress</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>6 . Pursue your passion, Nurture it. Write more. Happiness is in reading your poems aloud and not in revising your mark sheets.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>7.Read, Read more books.Its okay even if you are hiding those novels behind your English workbook during School</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>8. No, telling lies is not a sin. You can lie to your parents and teachers. Eventually You will.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>9. Participate in School Sports. Do not think you cant, and loosing games is Okay, No one is going to remember which team won the dodge ball. But they are definitely going to recollect and relate to the teammates and memories.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>10.Please do not encourage your school best friend to date that Elder guy in High School. He is going to ditch her badly. And school is not the time to get into relationships. Spare your firsts. And I am sure you are happy you did.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>11.It is okay to have more than one crush and Many eye candies. Everyone does. You are not a bad girl.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>12.Wear skirts and shorts more often, you are going to miss them.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>13.Experiment. Do not hesitate to try that new hairstyle. It is now or never.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>14.Make Mistakes. Fight, cry, dance, Sing Aloud ,. express your emotions. Do not Control, because YOU ARE A GIRL. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>15. Family is forever. Spend more time with your sibling. He loves you too.</i></span><br />
<br />
<br />
And, <span style="color: red; font-size: large;">Live your childhood. You are going to miss this later.</span><br />
<br />
I happened to come across this beautiful video , It does trigger you to go back in the timeline.<br />
<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/1wc7zRxGqPU?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-41329146065466976552014-11-09T20:05:00.000+05:302014-11-09T20:05:07.131+05:30Untouched<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">The sun was yet to rise, but
she was already collecting the bed sheets to be washed. This time she could not
be excused for not washing them. She Took care not to touch the curtains as she
crossed the passage to the bathroom. There was a door mat that could obstruct
her from entering the bathroom However she managed to jump over it and succeeded
in entering bathroom without touching them .She unturned the red plastic bucket
kept in the dark corner and a steel mug kept beneath it. Cold water flew in through the taps and being
a winter morning, she could feel the chill in her spine. All her life she has
hated to bath in cold water in winters. Again she tried hard to Pull the towel
out of the bathroom wardrobe without touching others Towel or underclothes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">4.00 am. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Walking through the woods,
beating the harsh winter with water dripping through her just washed hair, without
a sweater or woolen was indeed a tough task. She heard some chants of Lord Ayappa
far away , indicating that some of the pilgrims were coming that way. She
walked silently trying her best not to be noticed by them. And then at a
secluded spot, she disposed the plastic cover into the pit, and covered it with mud. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Filled with guilt and
negative thoughts all over her mind, She rushed back home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Fortunately her parents
did not wake up. She walked through the pavement as if she was soiled and
touching the walls or curtains would soil them too. It dreaded her to rinse the bed sheets and
dry them at the window grill. Wet bed sheets were so heavy. This is when she thanks
the inventor of washing attaching for attaching a dryer component to it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p>7.00 am</o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">She passed three hours
filled with boredom staring at a wall. She sat there silently in the corner with
her legs folded and chin stationed on her knees. Only then she smiled, when her
mother entered her room with the morning coffee.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Her mother placed the
steel glass on the floor and moved away. Lakshmi lifted it with utmost care not
to spill the tea, filling the glass to its brim. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">“Make sure you wash it in
the bath room and keep it beside the kitchen door. Do not enter Kitchen”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Her mother warned and moved
to the next room, “And yes don’t touch the curtains”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Lakshmi frowned. She
loathed this part of the year, When her Dad is on his 45 days fast to his visit
to Sabarimala and the seven days during that month she is menstruating. She is
devoid of life. She cursed her principal for declaring a Study leave in this
month, Else she could have spent the entire day in the college. She wouldn’t have
to take care not to touch curtains, or not to enter living room, dining hall or
the kitchen, or not be treated as an untouchable at her home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">This is the only time of
the year; she hated herself for being a WOMAN<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-86031474534919175262014-11-09T19:34:00.000+05:302016-06-25T10:45:44.918+05:30Healthy child makes a Happy Home<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">"Children are the
hands by which we take hold of heaven."</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">All of has have once been
a Child, and they say a child is hidden somewhere deep inside us. Happiness is
all about evoking the child within us...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I don’t have any child at
my home. All it occupies are the busy adults who hardly got time to spare for
oneself, leave alone finding the child within them. But then there is this time
of our family, when everyone is happy and overwhelmed. It is when our cute
little neighbor, the three year old Piu comes home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> Talking of Piu, She is the best entertainment
package on Earth. She is bliss for our family. If she’s home, all of us turns
into a baby oneself and try to please her. I dance with her to her favorite
songs, and I have a special play list on my phone to play for her when she is home.
Taking her pics when she poses in her own style, is what my Brother does .Mom
finds fun in feeding her,, or running behind her when she takes away the plates
and spoons from kitchen and hides away. Dad loves to take her around when he is
on his Sunday stroll. I have even seen him make strange noise and action, just
to see this little lady laughing aloud. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">There is hardly a day in
our lives, without Piu’s Presence. Not when she was sic. I remember a few
months ago, all of us had Onam celebration in our housing Society. However the
night wasn’t so calm. At about midnight we heard Piu crying aloud. Her dad
tried taking her around the house, her mom tried pacifying her, my dad was
trying to make her sleep, mom super tensed. In spite of all of us trying hard
to console her, the kid couldn’t stop crying. That night was very difficult .Until
she slept around 4 am and we all watched her every sneeze, every twists, movements
hoping she’s fine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Very next day we took her
to the doctor, and found out she was suffering from fever. There was no temperature difference in her body,
still she was sick, her body was week and this little baby could not stand that
weakness, and so she was terribly disturbed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">A nutrient supplement is
always very important for any kid. No matter how good care you take of her,
they are bound to fall sick without lack of proper nutrients. And that is what
Doctor Advised. It is an essential part
of Baby food. I would say the most difficult think on earth is to see a baby
admitted in hospital. I have seen those little hands attached to the saline tubes
and it hurts, the sight of it hurts too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Whenever Piu is sick, it
feels the Home is asleep. And so do us. She is the one who unknowingly makes us
smile and that smile without a reason is happiness, truly. IT is indeed true,
only a health child make a happy home. Else everything seems so stagnant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">This is one of the best nutrient supplement I would </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #464646; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">suggest </span><u><span style="background-color: white; color: #464646; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16.1px;"> </span><span style="color: #464646; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 16.1px;">https://www.liveveda.com/daburchyawanprash/</span></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="color: #464646; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 16.1px;"><br /></span></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="color: #464646; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 16.1px;"><br /></span></span></u></div>
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-41332952513286049492014-10-01T23:12:00.001+05:302014-10-01T23:12:35.096+05:30Private India - A review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Book Name:
Private India </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Authors:
James Patterson, Ashwin Sanghi.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;">Pages:
470<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;">Price: Rs.
350<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;">Genre:
Thriller\Fiction<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;">Publisher:
Arrow books.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiisGQMyWTTg6B_PoN1Hpzc9fLMY7PzgPQ1e_LuctUrqowe4h-80jkZNydAI_UrFmMPFBgROlAzJfB6MUzH_Jzo82E2u9EFsAUVpEAo2ZgMROCB2UfrtuOuZ7s0SUppNj5nRNfyozzqFjo/s1600/ashwin-sanghi-private-india-book-reviews.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiisGQMyWTTg6B_PoN1Hpzc9fLMY7PzgPQ1e_LuctUrqowe4h-80jkZNydAI_UrFmMPFBgROlAzJfB6MUzH_Jzo82E2u9EFsAUVpEAo2ZgMROCB2UfrtuOuZ7s0SUppNj5nRNfyozzqFjo/s1600/ashwin-sanghi-private-india-book-reviews.jpg" height="103" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Introduction:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Private
India - A book by India’s Leading Author Ashwin Sanghi co-authored by
James Patterson. This is a part of the Private Book series by James Patterson.
The Indian Counter part of worlds one Of the best detective agencies-Private
situated in Mumbai. Headed by Santosh Waghe, An alcoholic by Night and a keen detective
by day, followed by his colleagues Nisha Gandhe, Mubeen and Hari form a perfect
pack of detectives that any story would weave into. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Plus
points: <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The
highlight of this book is its theme. Indulging Indian Mythology to weave
a crime thriller is a wonder full concept. There could have been improvements
in the plot; however the writers have done justice to the story. It is indeed a
Gripping Book. If you are an Ashwin Sanghi Fan, You might not get what you are
expecting. This book is written in a different tone.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The Story
is gripping, unexpected twists. Very good narration of the crime scene is one
of the best parts of the book. This is one of those books that intrigue the
reader to keep guessing the twists or make one suspicious about the character. The
characters are properly defined into the plot and the situations are also in a
correct plot. This is indeed a thriller that is a once read atleast. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This is a
fast read book with simple language that keeps you gripped throughout. The
authors have managed to keep the suspense under wraps and hence you realize
that at the end, it wasn’t that you guessed. The linking of the murders, to the
avatars of Durga and then bring forth the concept of terrorism is a definitely
a good plot.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This one book has been my start of the day since the last week, Not that it took me an entire week to read it, best is , it kept me gripped to it, in spite of the busy schedule I had<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Disappointed
me:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Certain sentence
formation, oversized font is all that I found a drawback tactically. There are
certain chapters in the story that you might feel is unnecessarily dragged. I
could not relate to any of the characters inspite of this plot being a
character filled one. When you are reading a detective thriller, you would want
to stick to the leading character and follow through unless and until the
mystery is solved.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Even though
I liked the suspense (not revealing here since it definitely deserves a read),
I would say the book could have ended with a bang. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<b><span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">About
the Authors:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><b><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">Ashwin
Sanghi </span></b><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">is a writer in the
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thriller_fiction" title="Thriller fiction"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">thriller
fiction</span></a> genre. He is the author of three <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bestseller" title="Bestseller"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">best-selling
novels</span></a>: <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rozabal_Line" title="The Rozabal Line"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">The Rozabal Line</span></a></i>, <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chanakya%27s_Chant" title="Chanakya's Chant"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Chanakya's
Chant</span></a></i> and <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Krishna_Key" title="The Krishna Key"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">The Krishna
Key</span></a></i>. All his books have been based on historical, theological
and mythological themes.<sup id="cite_ref-1"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ashwin_Sanghi#cite_note-1"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">[1]</span></span></a></sup>
He is one of India's best-selling conspiracy fiction writers and is an author
of the new era of retelling Indian history or mythology in a contemporary
context.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><b><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">James B.
Patterson</span></b><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"> is an American
author. He is largely known for his novels about fictional psychologist Alex
Cross, the protagonist of the Alex Cross series. Patterson also wrote the
Michael Bennett, Women's Murder Club, Maximum Ride, Daniel X, and Witch and
Wizard series, as well as many stand-alone thrillers, non-fiction and romance
novels. His books have sold more than 300 million copies.</span><span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;">I would
definitely recommend this book. I would give it 3.5 / 5 stars .This is
one of the best Indian Thriller books I have read. I am glad I chose to review
this and thanks a lot blogdada for such a quick Response. I didn’t expect to be
so lucky </span><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;">J</span><span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"> </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span></span> </div>
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><o:p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #010101; color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">This review is a part of the </span><a href="http://blog.blogadda.com/2011/05/04/indian-bloggers-book-reviews" style="background-color: #010101; color: #4d469c; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;" target="_blank">Book Reviews Program</a><span style="background-color: #010101; color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"> at </span><a href="http://www.blogadda.com/" style="background-color: #010101; color: #4d469c; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">BlogAdda.com</a><span style="background-color: #010101; color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">. Participate now to get free books!</span></span></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><o:p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><o:p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><o:p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><o:p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-75781907559891786152014-09-25T23:34:00.002+05:302014-09-26T21:28:15.257+05:30Escape Chapter : 11 <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<o:p><a href="http://icetrail.blogspot.com/2014/09/adultery-marriage-india-books-quotes.html" target="_blank"> Read the previous post here </a></o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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Allapuzha is a beautiful town encircled by the vast stretch
of backwaters that adorned the nature. Exhausted
by the photo shoot at the St. Andrews feast, Jenifer was returning to the Port
for her boat towards the hotel that by stood the famous Vembanad Kayal (lake). She loathed the
strange sound as the boat crashed with the flowing water. To distract herself,
she took out the Tablet phone from her Sling bag and connected to the busy world. A calm climate with stillness in the air,
only the nights silence to be disturbed by the crickets gobbling and the boat
rushing to get to the land. This aura was enough to make one feel isolated from
the world. But on her fingertips, as she scrolled through the tweets on her
phablet she felt she was in a crowd where everyone is shouting something or the
other to the world. And one retweet by her follower stood on top of all which
she clicked to expand... </div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">“Think before you follow the road bound to the law, because
she is herself blindfolded”</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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Stalking the profile led her to his blog,, a peek into his
life .. Somehow she began reading through it. That which began as a mere go
through now ended up as a chase. Post after post.</div>
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<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;">The </span><u>BlindFold</u><span style="color: red;"> by Sanket Goswami </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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She liked it. It conveyed a lot more like the stories her pictures
conveyed. She loved portraits. She clicked people, and he penned about people, Portraits
in Words. </div>
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<br /></div>
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However one of those portraits almost hit her hard, pulling
her back to the past. It could have been a coincidence. Smitten by the lady next door, Sanket had portrayed
her flawlessly in his post. The words formed a picture of the lady in Jenifer’s
imagination which mirrored the face she had always abhorred. <b>Tara Dutta</b>. </div>
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<br /></div>
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It was very late when she reached the hotel. The night had
killed her appetite. She was lost in thoughts, memories to be specific. She
shut her eyes inviting sleep. However faces disturbed her. Roohi’s picture with
the pink daisies haunted her. Unintentionally, she was drawn to Roohi. Shekhar
had never pleased her by his looks.. But talking to him made her realized their
parallel lives illusioned to coincide somewhere. She was a wanderer by thoughts and Shekhar
seemed to construct his own thoughts. Out of the love for Roohi, Tara’s absence
and Shekar’s helplessness, Things went wrong. Perhaps it was the right thing
for that moment. But now as she looked back she felt as though she had sinned. She
recalled the day Tara offended her in
front of Roohi.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Does Roohi know of
the mistake her best friend Jenny Benny committed? </div>
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<br /></div>
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Her hand reached for the rosary that she
always wore. Gripping tightly the cross that rested on her chest, she prayed
for a peaceful sleep. Silently Hoping Roohi would be happier with her mom
somewhere. And Tara, with her husband.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 0pt;">
<b><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"><a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/psalms/119-28.html"><span style="color: #336699; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Psalm 119:28</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">My soul is weary with sorrow; strengthen me according to your word.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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The phablet blinked across the table. <span style="color: red;">Low battery.</span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><br /></span> </div>
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<span style="color: red;"><br /></span></div>
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<div id="lws_0" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 13px/18.91px "open sans", Geneva, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
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<div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 13px/18.91px "open sans", Geneva, sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="border-color: rgb(255, 243, 128); border-style: dotted; border-width: 1px 0px; color: #7f7f7f; margin: 0.75em 0px; padding: 5px 15px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-indent: -10px;">Me and my team are participating in ‘<a href="http://blog.blogadda.com/2014/09/11/game-of-blogs-celebrate-blogging-india" style="color: #0066cc; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="Game of Blogs">Game Of Blogs</a>’ at </span><a href="http://www.blogadda.com/" style="background-color: white; color: #0066cc; line-height: 19px; text-decoration: none; text-indent: -10px;">BlogAdda.com</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-indent: -10px;">. #CelebrateBlogging with us.</span></span></blockquote>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<a href="http://dlonelystoner.wordpress.com/2014/09/25/game-of-blogs-the-escape-chapter-12/" target="_blank">Read the next post here</a><br />
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-89195440901324223862014-09-17T23:57:00.000+05:302014-09-19T11:09:10.282+05:30The Escape - Chapter 5<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br /></div>
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Team FrontRunners </div>
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#Week ONE</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="http://www.prateekthakker.com/2014/09/game-of-blogs-escape-chapter-4.html" target="_blank">Read the previous Part of this story here : </a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">An
hour ago, he was exploring the happiness on her face whereas this moment the
silence of the hospital corridor engulfed him in. His heart beat paced in rhythm to the wall
clock that raced with time. Somewhere deep
inside him, he felt life dragging him back to his past.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Life
was never serious for him, At least not until his dad packed him to Delhi for pursuing
Bachelors in Law in the most prominent Law College in the country’s capital, a
seat he could hardly imagine if not for his dads contacts or namesake donations
to the college management. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Brought
up amidst the swish crowd of the economical capital of the country, Cyrus was the
only son of the renowned Lawyer Farhad Daruwala . Little did he know he would land up in the
same profession as his dad? .Too early to confirm, if only he survived the
upcoming year end exams. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">His
was never a personality that could relate to the guardian of the law of the country.
He loathed the aura that suffocated him in the Red and White shaded walls of
the court. He had always distinguished
himself from the crowd that surrounded him.
Girls loved him for the spark that his green eyes connected to; guys
envied his tall fit physique. The brown curly hair complementary to his fair
skin tone made him look handsome in the back and white college uniform. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">It
was just another day in the hot summer season while Delhi rose to its highest
temperature recorded in last few years. Roads were busy with public transport
speeding up followed by a fast VIP ambassador car roaring to the traffic for
clearance. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> And beside his college hostel
gate, he noticed her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Handling
a few rolls of card papers in the right hand, balancing a school bag and a dark
yellow Baggit Handbag in the left. She looked like a corporate lady who has
come right away from a high profile meeting in her white formal shirt tugged
into the grey trousers and a black satin scarf ornamenting her long neck. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">She
looked tired, still warning to her little girl in her school uniform to watch
out for vehicles on the road .Across the road, they disappeared into the
entrance of a residency complex that looked towards the Law college Boys Hostel
. And Cyrus stood awestruck looking at this lady from the soiled window pane of
his room on the third floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">His
roommates teased him for the crush he had on an elder lady in the next building.
And he could never admit it to be a mere infatuation, for he felt she was a beautiful lady wherein beauty
reflected not just on her face or
attire, but the womanhood that it portrayed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">The
nurses rushed into the ICU, with a trolley of medical equipments and brown bottles.
Cyrus felt as if he is being heaved from both the sides, His head hurt and body
felt weak reminding him of the flu that has landed him up here in the hospital.
With Tara in the ICU, and so much chaos around him.. He leaned for a support to
stay conscious until someone told him she was fine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />
<a href="http://meowconnect.blogspot.in/2014/09/gameofblogs-escape-chapter-6.html" target="_blank">Read the next part of this story here.</a><br />
</div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms", verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63px; line-height: 19px; text-indent: -10px;">“Me and my team are participating in ‘<a href="http://blog.blogadda.com/2014/09/11/game-of-blogs-celebrate-blogging-india" style="color: #0066cc; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="Game of Blogs">Game Of Blogs</a>’ at </i><a href="http://www.blogadda.com/" style="background-color: white; color: #0066cc; font-family: "trebuchet ms", verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63px; line-height: 19px; text-decoration: none; text-indent: -10px;"><i>BlogAdda.com</i></a><i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms", verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13.63px; line-height: 19px; text-indent: -10px;">. #CelebrateBlogging with us.”</i></div>
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4602228109226389943.post-89864876605895885022014-07-31T16:33:00.003+05:302014-09-20T14:30:13.538+05:30HER 3<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<img src="http://www.duiven.org/Worth1000/source-woman-at-window.jpg" height="320" width="227" /></div>
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Living in a posh apartment with all luxuries around had
always been her dream. She felt accomplished looking at the sunset from her apartment
window on the sixteenth floor of one of the best buildings in the city. Looking behind, she had nothing to regret
upon. She did not realize time slipping
away while her mind escaped into thoughts, and her eyes stationed on the setting
sun. Neither did she realize that darkness had engulfed her apartment as she
forgot to switch on the lights at the dawn of the dusk.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Clock Struck seven, an uninvited silence enveloped the room.
Anyone could easily hear the slow noise
as the clock raced with time. To kill
this silence she switched on the television. She wasnt interested in watching
the film. A drunken old man was hitting his lady and kids. Fast and loud bgm
gulped in the aura. Neither was she
interested in music nor sympathetic for the lady and kids. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like her mother always said, if
you don’t study, you wouldn’t get a job and end up marrying a man who might not
respect you. She always believed a lady dependent on her man for livelihood is
no good than the flesh at butchers shop. She pitied such lives and felt proud
of herself.</div>
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He opened the door. She muted the television
volume. He looked pale and tired. His steps were unsteady. Eyes were red and
weary. </div>
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Theirs was a marriage that lacked
existence. He worked day and night to please his boss and returned home only to
bed. Weekends spent drinking at corporate parties or playing golf with his colleagues.
Wife was only an ornament to be exhibited during corporate family events. All
he spoke of her was to boast about the turnover her company has in market and his
plans to invest in the shares.</div>
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She paced to the bedroom to see
her tired husband sleeping with in his shoes and office suit carelessly occupying
more than half of the bed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She stroked his palm to ask if he
had his dinner. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He sounded tired and his low voice
asked to get lost and leave him alone.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She returned to the living room
that still played the same movie. Unlike then the kids were asleep, the lady
was serving dinner to her husband and the drunk husband was apologizing to her with
teary eyes. She increased the volume of the television. A soft and low music
filled the room. </div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
She woke up to the sunlight that
pricked her eyes from the very same window she pondered at sunset the day
before. Tying her hair into a neat bun, she began her day, reciting today’s
menu to the maid and piling up the documents she had left on table into her
image of successful woman in her mind.</div>
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<h2 style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Read Her 'Part one'<a href="http://notjustpaperclip.blogspot.in/2012/11/her.html" target="_blank"> here</a></span></i></h2>
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M'Bai Madrasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13892481269775523000noreply@blogger.com4