tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48697376390747945582024-02-07T02:02:40.421-06:00...forever dying to be born afresh.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-43198094757062877272013-12-24T14:00:00.001-06:002013-12-24T14:00:34.940-06:00See.Understand.Feel.Condemn.Intervene.Fight.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;">There's a girl I've come to know, who goes by the name of Shama. At 16 years,she's probably seen it all,more than you and I have.Coming from a rather humble background,her days as a child were so much different from the days that any and every child has the right over.When all her job should have been to play around in the mud,breathe in the air of insouciance, to let the rain splash over her impeccant self,to laugh so much that her stomach hurt , her days were consumed by tasks more fulfilling,something that we go to unimaginable depths looking for,so as to give meaning to our empty lives ...taking care of two differently-abled people..her parents.While there's clearly no denying the fact that she was the messiah in her parents' lives,there's also no gaze-averting from the fact that the poor soul missed out on her childhood,her 'flying up in the swings so high that the pit of her stomach churned with anxiety and trepidation' needs unattended .Performing chores like cleaning the soiled diapers,changing rags that they had for </span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">bed-sheets</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;"> over four times a day making the tender skin on her hands puckered ,cooking meals,feeding her parents,cleaning around the house.It left her with no time, neither to take any lessons at school nor to go play with other children .She endured it all ,day after day,month after month,year after year until she once looked up and found a well dressed couple looking upon her with eyes of hope,affection and empathy.she didn't understand what they were there for, until her mother explained to her after they left that they wanted Shama to be a part of their family, as their daughter-in-law.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;">She felt nothing,having been rendered stoic ,bolstered only by the occasional zephyr of faith quietly sweeping past her.Neither did she feel saddened at the prospect of leaving her home nor did the countenance spoke of the slightest possibility of gladness at finally being able to escape a life of agony,her eyes narrating a certain sort of woebegoneness, apparent only to someone who had courage enough to look deep into her soulful eyes,as if she knew..</span></span></span></div>
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Shama was welcomed into her new home with the utmost sincerity,love , hope.Hope,because that is what had kept her new family going.Hope, that Shama would take care of her husband,bear beautiful kids and take care of the house.Shama's husband was 18 and needed looking after just like her parents did.He was differently-abled too and not as lucky as kids his own age to be able to pursue a career or lead a normal life(who decides what normal is,anyway?).</div>
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Shama's environment had changed,her fate hadn't.Just as she had stepped into her new home,her mother-in-law had put all the domestic helps on an indefinite furlough.She believed that since she was being generous enough to take the only daughter of the family (that never even had enough food to live on most days)in,she had every right to get the most out of the poor girl's miseries ,whose family wasn't in a position to say no to the proposition that had been made.</div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;">Shama went abt her life as though nothing had changed but, of course ,something had .</span></div>
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She started spending her days cooking meals for her new family with five members,scrubbing the toilets,taking care of her husband and listening to her mother in law ramble on about how she was there to bear children so they can grow up and take care of his father in the wheelchair and how she had a stature of not someone more than a domestic help and how the family had indeed done her family a favor by taking an uneducated girl off their hands.</div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;">Everything was going just how Shama's mother-in-law had hoped it would,until one day a friend of hers,Manju came to her house to meet her daughter in law and spotted some marks on Shama's forearms .Upon inquiring,Manju learnt that Shama had been cleaning the house wearing an expensive Coat that Manju's friend had gifted her and so she had let her have it.A long exchange of dialogues ensued in which the mother-in-law called Shama all sorts of names and told Manju that she had it coming.Manju saw how wrong her friend was to be beating up a child, who she brought away from her house promising her parents that she would give Shama the place of a daughter in their lives, for such a petty thing like that.Manju understood as did her friend that Shama was like a god's gift to them and their only shot at his son having a reasonable life ahead of him and yet Manju neither jumped to Shama's defense nor tried explaining to her friend that she's been abusing the child and punishing her for something that was no one's fault,the fact that her only son was going to spend all his life in a wheelchair.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;">Let us not even try to tell ourselves that we understand the kind of life Shama has waiting for her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;">Manju came to me and told me how she'd considered it best to not interfere because she thought it wasn't her place!And I somehow failed to make her realize the importance of a bystander's intervention.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;">The power of our voice is underestimated by ourselves just as much as the voices inside our heads are silenced.</span></div>
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Not standing up for someone who has been silenced so much that he doesn't remember having a voice, makes you just as guilty as the ones committing the crime against the him.</div>
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If you've read this article and understand what has been said, then please raise your voice the next time you're presented with a situation similar to this.Remember to stand up for someone who clearly needs it or feel just as responsible as the perpetrator for the rest of your life for whatever the victim is subjected to.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-40766215361289579362011-11-23T18:36:00.001-06:002011-11-23T18:40:48.982-06:00no matter how hard you try..lil' bit of mask peels off day by day!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjVivqFY3KXAKPHgLhw-U7RsTJzuRsoWUnxmi73SrCYY3GNFyfj7uMmtunokvspmLthoZwgvN_XzKv7vmYkAMzWZ_IDNLy-WwErjVxVJdxaCw80qsv1zXiKIDYB-JNN0tlD-CrF1TL6bQ/s1600/tumblr_kwvqa35GTv1qa3ofyo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjVivqFY3KXAKPHgLhw-U7RsTJzuRsoWUnxmi73SrCYY3GNFyfj7uMmtunokvspmLthoZwgvN_XzKv7vmYkAMzWZ_IDNLy-WwErjVxVJdxaCw80qsv1zXiKIDYB-JNN0tlD-CrF1TL6bQ/s400/tumblr_kwvqa35GTv1qa3ofyo1_500.jpg" width="323" /></a></div>after a certain point,it ceases to make sense.people you were very fond of,no longer seem to hold your importance.things around are quick to change or perhaps it's just me who grows tired of being stuck with the same group of people with not the slightest possibility to grow.perhaps I am a parasite.I feed on people's goodness and when I have sucked out all that I could,I tend to outgrow them.yes,its either this or that.I'd rather not tell myself that the world has run out of genuine people or even my world for that matter for that's too negative a thought.I don't want to tell myself that people masquerade as someone I'd eventually grow to like but which they eventually would tire of being.The psychopaths in them take pleasure in shattering the image they had created of themselves.I'd rather that the fault lies within me because me,I can always change but the world around me will never.this way I can always hope to be a little better the next morning thinking I might find people being nice to me because I am a little less of a parasite today than I was yesterday. <br />
<br />
It's either this, or that all the people I've met till now purport to be something else and I am an easy prey. I believe.and no matter how hard they try,little bit of mask peels off day by day and sticking with something they are not,is too much of an effort.And I am no longer an interesting prey either.they have found a new one now and once again the entire cycle repeats.it all starts from step one.the sweet talks,the late night coffee,the late night hanging out or staying up on phone,poking each other throughout the day,greeting with a hug when you'd met just an hour ago and then... the mask..it starts to peel off.<br />
<br />
<span id="goog_1271667738"></span>when you see it all happening to someone new,a whole set of memories whizz past.you're caught in a time trap and often times you know not how to escape.<br />
one world we live in,full of psychopaths who feed on people's grief.you can either be victimized once,learn and turn yourself into one of them or be the victim forever.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghdeNLQTyJcgi_eU_ezMpECxfT_U249g2ZQ42sxQhno2wn_Lgp0sC96nHft0au2ellwfSe6dBFoUTzWhzdnZcG0gMrPcqrwdARpwd3__0cYQxWATBEHZQnJPjCrEu24Res8kjM6Jj0bKI/s1600/4445499-blue-metallic-venetian-mask-with-golden-stone-in-crown-on-white-background-with-soft-shadow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghdeNLQTyJcgi_eU_ezMpECxfT_U249g2ZQ42sxQhno2wn_Lgp0sC96nHft0au2ellwfSe6dBFoUTzWhzdnZcG0gMrPcqrwdARpwd3__0cYQxWATBEHZQnJPjCrEu24Res8kjM6Jj0bKI/s320/4445499-blue-metallic-venetian-mask-with-golden-stone-in-crown-on-white-background-with-soft-shadow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-66747325304794806052011-01-08T04:12:00.001-06:002011-01-08T04:14:27.732-06:00I still want to drink chocolate flavored milk with a straw and be yelled at for making bubbles.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq9QZCNgl_pMNHqO5_OIZwMhg7KLMKPDbZ9rvrtX5TY_Ch_VwJ2DHjsE1iJsukR0TLLXlai2j4PwGInDsPFUvRAEkpJc971gULpbryRqgVj4evXm5iYAWiHlwo6fas-kaI-1MymWsh0p8/s1600/butterfly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="225" width="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq9QZCNgl_pMNHqO5_OIZwMhg7KLMKPDbZ9rvrtX5TY_Ch_VwJ2DHjsE1iJsukR0TLLXlai2j4PwGInDsPFUvRAEkpJc971gULpbryRqgVj4evXm5iYAWiHlwo6fas-kaI-1MymWsh0p8/s400/butterfly.jpg" /></a></div><br />
They aren't really there and yet they are,lurking somewhere in those dark corners of every humanly possible edifice waiting to pounce upon you from behind and just when you'd thought they were not to be met with,again.It touches upon our lives in a way so subtle that often times they can't be pointed a finger at,they can just be felt.<br />
We try to duck,hide,run away but it comes for all of us one day and we like a twig suspended in a calamitous weather are left with no choice but to follow wherever it may lead us.They are the changes.From the tiny ones to the life-transforming ones.We hate them,dearly wish we'd not encountered them but we somehow fail to deny them and one fine morning we wake up to find out that we aren't left with a single trace of our old selves,born anew.There's this restless feeling in the chest,like a serpent uncoiling about..some sort of an unknown craving in the soul<br />
that spurs us to discard the old shell and in it's place grows a new one..<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
People around hate to see us change but they are too.Aren't they?And thus just to keep up with the world bustling with tons of changes around and not to feel left out,we make a few amendments in ourselves knowingly/unknowingly.It's a part of growing up.We change and it's like our defense mechanism.It equips us with something that helps us fight the selfish,in the process making us selfish too but it's better than being left alone to cry.Isn't it?<br />
<br />
The past haunts us and the present is a perpetual alteration between the contentment with inertia and irksomeness of changing.We choose the latter,more often than not.Fear becomes a part of us.Fear of changes.We go ahead neglecting the pounding in the chest that asks us to hold it right there.<br />
<br />
We've come to dislike people/things we once thought we couldn't do without and it's not strange,just reality that was an idea<br />
that seemed too far away once..<br />
<br />
Like a baby outgrows his baby clothes,we also tend to outgrow a few people,some habits,a couple of tastes and it's okay.It just implies we're alive and growing.<br />
<br />
<br />
In a dark alley sunlight sprinkles in through the neatly weaved cobwebs and there knuckles pressed onto the chest sits a tiny figure.Behind the staircase those infancy-arrested eyes,tear-stained cheeks,untied shoe laces,dishelleved hair.You know it's you.Or was.It's no longer you.<br />
You wonder how such a metamorphosis could take such less time.<br />
<br />
There was this time when all I wanted was to grow up.And now here I am,an eight year old trapped in a nineteen year old's body and it doesn't feel good not even when I have been counting days until my College days since grade 6,for even the most longed-for changes come with the melancholy of leaving behind us a part of ourselves.We die a little with every new change in us.<br />
<br />
I want to go back.It's all happening too fast.It makes me sit up at night and cry and at times I can't even place the reason right.<br />
I still want to drink chocolate flavored milk with a straw and get yelled at for making bubbles.I want to pee with the door open and hang a sock outside the main door for Santa to hide a teddy inside for Christmas.I wish I could be little again when all I wanted for my birthday was new varieties of chocolates for all my classmates and a huge teddy bear.When I was little,I got everything I asked for.When I was little I had this idea that life was like an ideal fairy tale,that if you were nice enough,you'd never be alone,never be misinterpreted and never be frightened but it doesn't work that way.<br />
When I was little recess was always too short and life too long.The one thing that's not changed even now is that life's still long.And messy.<br />
I am not a little girl any more but I'm still learning whom to trust,whom to ignore and whom to forgive.<br />
<br />
<br />
People we've parted with on our way of growing up have left a mark undoubtedly but the purpose of our chance encounter must've been met with.They moved on and so did we.<br />
All through our school life we're taught how to live but everytime we try to,we're wronged.<br />
People who were supposed to never let us down,do and the ones we couldn't dream of a day without are taken away.They shouldn't teach us how to live but how to say good-bye.And let go.The 'living' part,we'd take care of that ourselves.<br />
Just like the ink that seeps out of fingers onto<br />
the paper and forms that beautiful-blotchy pattern,all our journies are beautiful,like no other and incomprehensible too at that.Few people have the gift to imagine the shape of <br />
the pattern to be like something.It's just like stopping for a while,gazing up into the cloudy sky and making a something from the scattered clouds or...figuring the patterns out from where new worlds shall emerge.<br />
<br />
<br />
It's hard to accept,but you can't go back because life would be not-unexpected and boring.Yes,<br />
you will make mistakes and yes you will have tough times but as long as you can truly let all of it go,you can live and make it worth living.We have to know that things were meant to happen and that each day we will learn something new,the easier way or the hard way.<br />
<br />
<br />
So,changes,they aren't always bad.We don't have to despise them.It just needs a little forgiveness and a little more acceptance.We've all done things in life that we regret having done.We'd rather have them erased from memories,ours and theirs and for that<br />
we'd pay any price we can but it's all a part of growing up.We didn't have to hate ourselves for growing up,just had to forgive.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-61640241174907436832010-12-18T04:14:00.000-06:002010-12-18T04:14:17.381-06:00Everyone's ugly on the inside.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYxZyjrmY0Cz313wMYwhhO9HrvwkDbAXrZBinlsGy94ZH9-e5SaOcq3-0oFOXpK9BBOB6DCBEhsWtVtS550kjGL3TEaIh-LbIlCAmInvq2bPlxh7Yu0vvBS7zpmnFNXXGfB_-bg1MrnSc/s1600/mask.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="267" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYxZyjrmY0Cz313wMYwhhO9HrvwkDbAXrZBinlsGy94ZH9-e5SaOcq3-0oFOXpK9BBOB6DCBEhsWtVtS550kjGL3TEaIh-LbIlCAmInvq2bPlxh7Yu0vvBS7zpmnFNXXGfB_-bg1MrnSc/s400/mask.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
Yes.You too are.Ever felt something that you shouldn't?Ever thought you've morally gone corrupt?Ever hated yourself for feeling some way?Don't.Everyone's the same.Everyone goes through the 'I hate me' phase!It's only human and very natural.<b>Everyone's masked.</b>We never can dare to unveil ourselves,stand naked and face the crowd.We're too afraid to accept ourselves even when alone which in turn makes us loath our inner selves and feel that we'd be hated for what we are,once we put forth all that we feel inside.I don't blame us.<br />
<br>If you could read minds,you'd start to hate people and how they think but somewhere deep down you know you aren't much different.<b>Everyone's different and yet the same.</b>Everyone's dark,ugly,self-centered and everyone tries hiding their inner dark side behind a thick sheath of fake-ness,sugar-coated lies,hypocrisy et al. <br />
I feel offended at times not because people have no values but because they don't even stick to whatever little that they have.And yes, I get carried away but don't you too?<br />
Why do people do things they don't much appreciate others doing?How can you back bite and still come embrace me the very next moment?<br />
<b>"Slaves of the society"</b> is all I get for an answer.I failed to realize,I fail to understand.<br />
I know I should no longer take all those "promises" seriously but I am weak and I don't know how to walk without the ones I've held onto for so long.Promises are like old horses,often saddled,never ridden.Although I know things would change,I still make people "promise" that they'd not.I still yearn for something I have no business thinking about,for the once-upon-a-time clear vision's blurred with emotions.<b>The blood smeared countenance speaks languages your mind can't hear.I reckon the voices in your head are much more clear.</b><br />
I once again shirk back in agony,not knowing how to tackle,not wanting to either.I remain motionless but smile in self-appreciation nevertheless owing to one new realization.<br><br />
<b>They say they want to be immortal.That when they are dying each second.<br />
By changing themselves,contradicting what they said just the very next moment,giving up on things and people who once meant the world to them,lying to themselves and by running away from who they are..because it's killing a part of them..bit by bit,as time ticks away and then they're dead.</b><br><br />
Of late I've started to relinquish my grip on those long-held promises.It does make me feel less vulnerable,less unsafe and makes me seem tough but has <b>only made me hollow..</b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-54005022012953241842010-09-26T03:22:00.002-05:002010-09-26T04:24:55.734-05:00Just human.Just me.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNkvMKyGExjgQwNd2ITseI_Ye7Se7F5C0Vmm1AN84uLUInOl87kKJLbpWHjinvnBnBang96gZGb90nIOK4ZCpgf5La_bQeVWfnP5oGZKzH4OPbkw1VqYFSGZHN7PqYMKuwzsslsrK-4XU/s1600/b216175808.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNkvMKyGExjgQwNd2ITseI_Ye7Se7F5C0Vmm1AN84uLUInOl87kKJLbpWHjinvnBnBang96gZGb90nIOK4ZCpgf5La_bQeVWfnP5oGZKzH4OPbkw1VqYFSGZHN7PqYMKuwzsslsrK-4XU/s320/b216175808.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>...diary.Writing about the amount of time you talked to someone for.Getting angry at people for they have showed you down at some point or the other and have thus lead you to form a belief that whatever they do,it's supposed to be better than yours for they <b>are</b> better or at least that is what they've always tried to tell you.Crying.Feeling helpless about someone, something, that you could've changed but can't any more or never could have and never would. Not sharing, not talking, not listening, not allowing others the privelege to know you any more than that stranger walking down the road. Thinking too much, the intensity incredible but highlighting only the negatives.Wanting to break out, break through, break free. Not wanting to be held back. Thinking about life, the existence of it all, rules withing rules and again am lost, know not where. You ask me what is it that I am always so busy thinking about and where am I lost.. the answer..I know not what, I know not where..Rude.Only when I am defeated, from inside. And hurt, not wanting to say why. The hard-turtle-like-shell might protect the vulnerable core,might just. Not wanting to point mistakes out, neither wanting to hurt nor to please...freeing self from any guilt,somehow..know not how..It's an illusion, I say..all that love, all that care, all those relations..I lost faith in them since time immemorial. "Be selfish. Stop living in an ideal world", they shake me hard and tell me. I stare straight ahead, not knowing what to say , not wanting to know how to deal for the "ideal" world's the world I've always known and I shan't know anything beyond. They tell me lots more..I nod and move ahead,walk alone,don't look back..not wanting to see no one waiting for the so called "sanity" to return,for the "dirty-realization" to strike.. Waves lapping at my feet,warm hug from a someone who <s>pretends</s> <s>to</s> cares..<s>serene </s>disturbing..the warmth I am not used to, the cold gaze, I look for."Why don't you share?" I don't know what to. I supress, supress it hard and it goes away, so what, if only for a lil' while..it's comforting nevertheless(at least more than talking to someone) and it tells me that it's gone but it betrays, the feeling.. it so did promise to come back again and lived up to it..didn't it?Every bit of it, the anger, the hurt, the tears, the annoyance and I am lost again..know not where..<br />
I worry, I whine, I complaint, I sulk, I cry, I disdain..I find faults in the system, I curse it and yet I want to do something about it, the helplessness now shatters me, makes me want to scream out loud and scream until the other voices die out and I wait..I wait for it to pass...for everything does and this too shall..<br />
The order of things..the things in order,I admire,anything out of it is forever-disturbing, annoying, causing paranoia..I know not why..I try to control but the anxiety grows and I begin to wonder why and am lost again..I know not where...I want to come back but I know not how..Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-3045991486391981782010-09-22T13:59:00.000-05:002010-09-22T13:59:37.515-05:00Kiss your child g'night even when they are asleep..<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvMgqMHupyErgAdgOIgpLT3-kpgUHroFXo1qWifZPl-v3E73tznNUpjrEfCezk1lO9u-IwcxS2mc4BC_H6B7JV6ozgPU5d305TDiHVBZnz1eQoO0MXyA4SP1DLH4ibeg4GKXP5NdM6ZeM/s1600/kidd+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvMgqMHupyErgAdgOIgpLT3-kpgUHroFXo1qWifZPl-v3E73tznNUpjrEfCezk1lO9u-IwcxS2mc4BC_H6B7JV6ozgPU5d305TDiHVBZnz1eQoO0MXyA4SP1DLH4ibeg4GKXP5NdM6ZeM/s320/kidd+2.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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Kids all over the world are facing negligence and extreme carelessness as far as the behavior that's being meted out to them is concerned.There's a need for communication and for parents to spend time with them. Don't just ask them to pass salt at the dining table, ask for their views on a particular subject. Try understanding them. No form of abuse,then be mental or physical should they be subjected to.The scars will dissolve but the mental trauma stays.Some part of the wound never heals. <b>It creates an irreconcilable far apartness between the child and the parent rather the perpetrator</b>.<br />
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They are tiny souls,hungry for love, ever-ready to please, never intentionally wanting to upset you, never expecting more than just your loving company. The kind of relationships that a child develops throughout his life depends on the kind of bond they share with each parent. It gives them a general outline of what the world they are yet to see,is like.<br />
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The father is a daughter's first hero and the mother, a son's first love.</b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">Parents who are the reason for a conflict between their better half and their child must remember that a <b>child needs both parents and they will always be mom and dad to their child irrespective of the relation they share with each other</b>. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">The last thing a little child wants to do is to express a preference for one parent over the other</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">.Don't ever make your child go through something like that.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">Get involved.Ask him what all he thinks about.Make him feel the parental warmth,be with him when he's </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">frightened, scared,sick, excited, thrilled or all at the same time;</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"> give him the space to share and you'll learn that <b>you can your be your child's best friend</b>!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">A parent has to be there for the child to help him become emotionally stable, to help him realise what he is, to hold his finger and walk him for the first time, to hold him tight when he feels low, to tell him they'd always be there no matter what and that they'd help him bounce back and things would be okay as before, to help him grow..to help him live..<b>Presence is more than just being there</b>..</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">The kind of words you use leave deep imprints and they stay long after they have been said.</span><br />
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"When a parent decides to act like one of the children and begins to scream and yell at the child, all the opportunity for teaching is lost."</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgak48PE_GsRkBykS-olGMaBtnE_bObpM10oDHu_LtTdjV9ARq3YD1FJ4nyIlBBGZ1qskNkm0Kot-Kv4jsMjWswU3RVhbFRFjKTW28NOnlBRMRonM0CmVQ7359esKWFDLBfswSA4egyBl0/s1600/child-abuse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgak48PE_GsRkBykS-olGMaBtnE_bObpM10oDHu_LtTdjV9ARq3YD1FJ4nyIlBBGZ1qskNkm0Kot-Kv4jsMjWswU3RVhbFRFjKTW28NOnlBRMRonM0CmVQ7359esKWFDLBfswSA4egyBl0/s320/child-abuse.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, 'Bitstream Vera Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><br />
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If you're not forgiving, expect too much, or are a perfectionist and hence upon the most trivial of their mistakes inflict huge amount of pain in the form of physical,verbal or emotional abuse then all that it's going to do is <b>make your child an introvert, discourage him from talking things out and thus make him bottle things up. He'd feel lonely and depressed and eventually unattached especially when it'd come to you. He'd stop believing in relationships, think too much and ultimately drive himself crazy.</b><br />
<b>".<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">.</span></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"></span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">you need a license to buy a dog, to drive a car - hell, you even need a license to catch a fish. But they'll let any butt-reaming asshole be a father.</span></i></span></span>"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRKUcG9wIQzTdasc67IDuiq9wGyWsHS0gEnoPyWWiJDe8NaYGYC6O3kRsahmrnlpJeT2GOLo1R5ppDK2tjMDXf9ctDT8uglUaUr6LBatZr8Vb0gab6IsXAsXY0fCauBmzIyAzCnwq9wpI/s1600/mad+kid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRKUcG9wIQzTdasc67IDuiq9wGyWsHS0gEnoPyWWiJDe8NaYGYC6O3kRsahmrnlpJeT2GOLo1R5ppDK2tjMDXf9ctDT8uglUaUr6LBatZr8Vb0gab6IsXAsXY0fCauBmzIyAzCnwq9wpI/s320/mad+kid.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Encouraging words from parents are like light switches."<b>Speak a word of affirmation at the right moment in a child's life and it's like lighting up a whole roomful of possibilities</b>."A great tree always springs from a tender plant. You are their most important teachers.They are what you will them to be.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Love your child with all you have and more.Kiss them goodnight even if they are asleep.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Relationships are complex and children very high maintainance and you wouldn't really understand parenthood unless you start to know</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> <b>why a child on a merry-go-round will wave at his parents every time around - and why his parents will always wave back</b>.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">.</span><br />
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</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-83366514647740263222010-09-12T09:02:00.003-05:002010-10-26T08:16:40.200-05:00"Iss Desh ka kuch nahi ho sakta"!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsOnBWVQ1LGduElK-32zicDmdB6x2Qtb3bEbCEiucCvk0QULRtkDWzRyvVi9S2qXqScF1q9R-9gCtjI3ek_B-6HNjyeRNxZWvolBIqp3XXcocaoAreTJ77MpOFvEQuM5DGSAucy7jdGYM/s1600/arts-graphics-2008_1132604a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsOnBWVQ1LGduElK-32zicDmdB6x2Qtb3bEbCEiucCvk0QULRtkDWzRyvVi9S2qXqScF1q9R-9gCtjI3ek_B-6HNjyeRNxZWvolBIqp3XXcocaoAreTJ77MpOFvEQuM5DGSAucy7jdGYM/s320/arts-graphics-2008_1132604a.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
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</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Nothing is right. Not the roads. There are pot holes here and there and when it rains, it’s a menace. Not the public transport. They are badly maintained, more often than not causing accidents. Not the so called “administration”. Our ‘netaas’, they suck big time! They have the money to erect statues of themselves on grounds of being <b>THE Dalit leader</b> spending crores of public money but haven’t a pence to enhance the education for common mass or anything in relation to the public. Low literacy levels! Police has become synonymous to rapists and murderers who back people like <b>Rathore</b> up and target unaided poor women. False encounters.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
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Municipal Corporation supposed to be taking care of disposal of waste is sitting hands on hands with mountains of garbage being erected in the middle of the capital city (<b>feast to Vultures or better still THE Ecological balance?</b>). Hospitals; people are left to die in general wards with Dengue and the likes on a rise. Even Jails like the Tihar, the highly convicted inmates there have an access to anything ranging from a tiny pin to cell phones to arms. The <b>26/11 attack</b>. The 'compensation' the martyrs were paid. It saddens me is all I can say. Not much tracing was done or anything to prevent further attacks. The Bhopal Gas Tragedy. The main Culprit was let off and others were penalised the least they could be for thousands of lives lost and that too 25 years after the World's Biggest Tragedy. <b>Sheer mockery of Justice</b>. Where, oh where the moral responsibility of the people concerned has sunk? Looks like <b>the country sold its soul, to whom and for what, I know not.</b>.<br />
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All them people do is talk about it and say this at least once “<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">iss desh ka kuch nahi ho sakta</b>”! I am not here to do the same, just to make aware of how badly the situation’s gone out of hands! We need to do something, you and I but what?”How can an individual help bring about any change?”I know I know but don’t you think instead of complaining about “The System”, we should at least do whatever it is that’s in our hands i.e. work assigned to us at personal levels? If not anything else, it’ll at least awaken a few people’s dead conscience forcing them to work earnestly.<br />
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Nothing good comes out of blaming the System. Be a part of it if you have the balls and bring the change about. Some do too but it’s not enough, not yet. We need more such people with high conscience/Morals to help build a nation every individual can be proud to call his own.<br />
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Finally this one’s for the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">crazy-rebellious-odd ones out-transgressors-troublemakers-rule breakers-trend setters,</b> the ones not afraid to share their side of the story or to tell you you're wrong when you really are, fight for what is right irrespective of who’s with them and who’s not! You respect them, tag them, quote them, judge them, laugh at them but don't ignore them. You cannot for they are the change in us. They might be tagged whacko but we see the genius…"Because <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do."</b></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br />
</b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGvTYSsLyKUnTP5CDhebzhOLioIhlMsy_p2lZBk0OfbNYyPQpYxJQU4vDP3k0U18mezv3xD7it8EWq5RmXO-7qHtfpft7DK7yO-PbFgXjk1NNuAWmOl_WTO3VVzBWFu3Kk99AFbjOxp9E/s1600/INDIA_ASIA_POVERTY_33691f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGvTYSsLyKUnTP5CDhebzhOLioIhlMsy_p2lZBk0OfbNYyPQpYxJQU4vDP3k0U18mezv3xD7it8EWq5RmXO-7qHtfpft7DK7yO-PbFgXjk1NNuAWmOl_WTO3VVzBWFu3Kk99AFbjOxp9E/s320/INDIA_ASIA_POVERTY_33691f.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br />
</b></span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com284tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-54586102787325528352010-09-10T10:51:00.003-05:002010-10-26T08:17:01.888-05:00Stop pleasing,Start Living!<div class="MsoNormal">I had a friend in Grade ten who asked me once how she could muster a bit of confidence up. She told me she had to speak tiny sentences like "Ma'am, may I go to the washroom" ten times in her mind before she could go up to the teacher and actually ask her. You make mistakes and you learn, don’t you? Now, I have a friend who's fairly good at English but is too scared to talk in it in front of people because of the fear of being made fun of. She's too afraid to be embarrassed or to face the world for that matter, if I may have the audacity to put it that way.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;"><br />
Speaking of other people, they more often than not are scared to put forth their opinion wanting to be politically correct/not to offend anyone/<s>please everyone</s>.(Hah!The irony!)<br />
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<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;">In actuality they are just scared to face the world as they are. Why do you need to do it? Why can’t you portray yourself as an individual entity to the world? Why does it require so much of thinking/courage? Why can’t we stop pleasing others and be what we are and thus live life because that’s what life is. Isn’t it? It’s about being yourself and not being ashamed of who you are and not changing for the sake of others. It’s too short to keep pleasing,arse-licking or be yes-mans or to laugh at jokes you don’t find funny or to compliment them asses when you’d one day want to have balls to puke on their faces or to not wear something you’re dying to just because others find it “not in” or to not make a particular comment on facebook because you’re afraid to be Grammatically incorrect or to not wear shorts because of a few stretch marks or to pretend to like something/someone you don’t or to be scared to make mistakes or simply just to be yourself.<br />
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</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3NhW_4JB9dPDANxzIo9deDHLLSQO2phWNZxTShYmavWmqGrInrpIWozwmtxgFAnHK94bMcIZBz0oxGXQGG4HXIN-8PQlqFldx7bf7XVMyVqehLkfYrktXM2QouJUkIrgnQTetflPzeDs/s1600/kid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3NhW_4JB9dPDANxzIo9deDHLLSQO2phWNZxTShYmavWmqGrInrpIWozwmtxgFAnHK94bMcIZBz0oxGXQGG4HXIN-8PQlqFldx7bf7XVMyVqehLkfYrktXM2QouJUkIrgnQTetflPzeDs/s320/kid.jpg" /></a></div><h3 style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: normal;">Remember life’s once and it beautiful no matter how much pain it might inflict upon you…As I always say "</span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We laugh.We cry.We pry.We make fun.We go quiet.We whine.We shine.We crib.We pray.We dance.We love.We brag.We hate.We bitch.We fight...and still it indeed is a beautiful </span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">life..<o:p></o:p></span></h3><h3 style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></h3>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-40508103916299804152010-08-22T08:14:00.002-05:002010-10-26T08:17:15.841-05:00Let the silence embrace you..<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu-9OjmJetXfYIQfkfWzGw2S0Onqkn7bldDq2T7AheXbmYnjK0u05-VQLJTip1uJdL81u89067kSZf4zpC8q03dnYYRdiQEP17X2m5-YoYb0ckmItEfUj9arKaRHCDFHl-iWIL40kFdlI/s1600/k.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu-9OjmJetXfYIQfkfWzGw2S0Onqkn7bldDq2T7AheXbmYnjK0u05-VQLJTip1uJdL81u89067kSZf4zpC8q03dnYYRdiQEP17X2m5-YoYb0ckmItEfUj9arKaRHCDFHl-iWIL40kFdlI/s320/k.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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A lot of times you want to let things out not because you want life lessons but because you want someone to listen to you and you can no longer keep it inside.There's a growing need for you to be heard and that's all that you need,a listener.When you find someone totally bogged down,don't give him advises,just lend him a ear.Don't stare,don't touch,keep him calm,keep quiet.You know they have a problem,they do too but it'd be alright if you didn't throw all sorts of questions at them.Hold it there,whatever that it is,let the vibes talk and stay quiet.The best of conversations occur when there is no competition,no vanity,but a calm-quiet interchange of sentiments.We need people to understand us not when we talk but when we say nothing at all.<br />
When one rests in quietness and the image of oneself,the world and one's idea of others fade,what remains is emptiness,a shimmering one which is what we are!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-57487953009153807472010-07-08T11:07:00.028-05:002010-10-26T08:17:42.253-05:00What do men want?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAkSSrIWD8CbE111QSrlx7lFeXljIKlZg-oL3Bvs6E9_Rm4L8ZbZTrXCA1feQiFxZaRyjK5sN6dTjFgGuni6mvL4YD9QrBR2uk7TeZgRq78kQtZadBXGVXcqjOM_W5sbquPuXRfhkiUUM/s1600/haha.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507801694333010978" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAkSSrIWD8CbE111QSrlx7lFeXljIKlZg-oL3Bvs6E9_Rm4L8ZbZTrXCA1feQiFxZaRyjK5sN6dTjFgGuni6mvL4YD9QrBR2uk7TeZgRq78kQtZadBXGVXcqjOM_W5sbquPuXRfhkiUUM/s400/haha.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 340px;" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW1ID6vZO3ihWgiwSa7quYkNv0z6xbckeMSY45Amedp5vo9nksM66KJdtBPNvVOwoxQ04YEPaj9HSjESiJxH67TTrdVDrRnKs1FZMMrN0626yXwseZMctMbec70l1xA2pf7EKynaZg_kQ/s1600/skinny_model.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507801335703779346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW1ID6vZO3ihWgiwSa7quYkNv0z6xbckeMSY45Amedp5vo9nksM66KJdtBPNvVOwoxQ04YEPaj9HSjESiJxH67TTrdVDrRnKs1FZMMrN0626yXwseZMctMbec70l1xA2pf7EKynaZg_kQ/s400/skinny_model.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 400px; margin: 0 0 10px 10px; width: 300px;" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYYgp8ByDZBlu-P3978ANEHa-MaSFN9WweqRxiKFXJ-UjFBGOP0SygJPAAukQa5s4qb6im06yEnVlN_AfXaWOPcyuRwDvIvCm4YLgv38fjewvh2WTiseTO5SPePSGGEvsviYsta8lpfOA/s1600/Sexy+photo+of+Serena+Williams+in+short+black+dress+and+heels.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507801211768794578" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYYgp8ByDZBlu-P3978ANEHa-MaSFN9WweqRxiKFXJ-UjFBGOP0SygJPAAukQa5s4qb6im06yEnVlN_AfXaWOPcyuRwDvIvCm4YLgv38fjewvh2WTiseTO5SPePSGGEvsviYsta8lpfOA/s400/Sexy+photo+of+Serena+Williams+in+short+black+dress+and+heels.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 400px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 232px;" /></a> Women have major issues with their body type.She does,that one does,you do and I do too!What most of us don't know is that men prefer voluptuous ladies over the skinny ones.They want women they can grab and have their fists full with(not literally).Curvy is sexy!Serena Williams was quoted as saying that she has a huge upper torso and a massive butt and I think she still is absolutely sexy!!The average waist size of a woman from the 50's was 27". Today it is 34". Lets thank Jennifer Lopez almost as famous for her latino curves as her starring roles for making the fuller bottom a must have fashion accessory!<br />
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Thin ones who were once fat and now make fun of not-so-thin ones probably still have a lot of self-loathing around being overwieght,even though today they seem to have lost weight.“You can never be too rich or too thin” mentality seems to be spreading like flu!Sighs.<br />
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Embrace your body and love what you have.You have to start from the inside if you ever want your body to glow as He intended it to.Quit punishing yourself and quit hating yourself,take full body photos and embrace your beautiful womanly body. I believe that no woman should feel segregated because of her size, even if she’s a super petite size 0 or big girl size. Don’t wait to drop the weight to live life, live it now!<br />
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To me this all means that us girls on the bigger end of the size spectrum should still be able to be beautiful,fashionable and self-accepting.Fat and happiness are not opposites – they can and should co-exist. To be bigger than the majority of people we see on the street is nothing to be ashamed of – we are not alone!We must get out there,look sexy and encourage the rest of the plus size girls to join us – I know they exist but sometimes we need that extra bit of inspiration or a little push in the right direction.On-trend fashion has finally seeped through to the plus size market, let’s prove to the rest of the world that we are no different, we shouldn’t be forced into hiding or feel ashamed of ourselves.We are as beautiful as the next person – we need to remember that no one,I mean NO ONE has the right to tell us any different.<br />
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<b>This one is for all the not-so-thin-ones..Go out there,scream with delight,buy sexy outfits,go to a spa,get all dressed and let the entire world know that there isn't anyone half as sexy as you are!!</b>Love your body,celebrate your body and remember that you only get one body!Treat it right and don’t forget to wear cute shoes!:)<br />
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<b>That's the very sexy Glamazons for you on America's got talent.</b><br />
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<object style="height: 344px; width: 425px;"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dDD2jN2HQEQ"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dDD2jN2HQEQ" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="425" height="344"></object><br />
<b>An Interview with size 16 Miss UK finalist.</b><br />
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<b>Beautiful non-toothpick celebrities.</b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-54544061041200721412010-07-01T06:42:00.000-05:002010-07-01T06:43:58.142-05:00<div><embed src="http://widget-2e.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" scale="noscale" salign="l" wmode="transparent" flashvars="cy=bb&il=1&channel=2666130979439579694&site=widget-2e.slide.com" style="width:400px;height:320px" name="flashticker" align="middle"></embed><div style="width:400px;text-align:left;"><a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=2666130979439579694&map=1" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-2e.slide.com/p1/2666130979439579694/bb_t048_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide1.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=2666130979439579694&map=2" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-2e.slide.com/p2/2666130979439579694/bb_t048_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide2.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=2666130979439579694&map=F" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-2e.slide.com/p4/2666130979439579694/bb_t048_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide42.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /></a></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-86235630842161587322010-06-28T10:31:00.012-05:002011-01-08T12:00:02.291-06:00When imagination screeches to a halt..<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7XxT5m2CzwLfw9yRVhuThKWQS-Xw-_YgijH2zuWSQbWO7ZgXJEdQVySYVvrI-3NOHKP-kxTL_ZwrTbi3uHKsPDSgSs-P2vJItNn47zSz_xZUqBRZgfEfOeAES52nATuLbHsGV9KbThHg/s1600/Indian20Lady.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487925168484358642" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7XxT5m2CzwLfw9yRVhuThKWQS-Xw-_YgijH2zuWSQbWO7ZgXJEdQVySYVvrI-3NOHKP-kxTL_ZwrTbi3uHKsPDSgSs-P2vJItNn47zSz_xZUqBRZgfEfOeAES52nATuLbHsGV9KbThHg/s400/Indian20Lady.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 400px; margin: 0 0 10px 10px; width: 286px;" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd3noOFt38IdgTRzQGboQGfLUP-r1u3CsBGWYdpL2byeF5uAQvqV_2Keqv4yXBtUVQjb_r_yYwoaWv8PfHbXiRjNpAo0WgeGH2-3iKQcKNBibEvhyphenhyphenLSV7asYl8nEMvEQRLn1W6X-IUTgs/s1600/f.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487923155744538098" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd3noOFt38IdgTRzQGboQGfLUP-r1u3CsBGWYdpL2byeF5uAQvqV_2Keqv4yXBtUVQjb_r_yYwoaWv8PfHbXiRjNpAo0WgeGH2-3iKQcKNBibEvhyphenhyphenLSV7asYl8nEMvEQRLn1W6X-IUTgs/s400/f.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 355px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 400px;" /></a> It's not their childhood dream.They too like anyone of us had dreamt of their Knights in shining armors.But when people put you down so much like that,you start to think they're right,that you really are worthless.And that's when the role of pimps come into play.They target girls who seem lonely,homeless,rebellious and innocent,too much at that to read beyond his feigned affection which more often than not forces her to be his women at first and then the horror follows.When she's forced into it first,she cries all night but gets used to it and thinks it's her destiny to be treated like a piece of meat,barely holding together. Why not just call them gold-digging promiscuous ladies and not hookers.<br />
That makes it sound not-so-socially-unacceptable.Isn't it?Do whatever,just don't hate them.They aren't so much different from you and I.Whether she was sold to a brothel by her family or got turned into one owing to incest or running away from home and being pimped by her boyfriend or whether she's into it to be able to pay her tuition fees,she's hurt,in more ways than you can think of.She's intrinsically traumatized.Agree at a price with a stranger.Slip out of clothes.Come ball me quick!Wham-bam-thank you ma'am.Next please.<br />
They say slavery has been abolished.Wish they knew how it prevails in the form of prostitution and shall forever.<br />
It is enforced to protect patriarchy,so men can feel at the top,literally and metamorphically.<br />
We are all slaves and prostitutes and then it doesn't matter to what society,religion or caste one is a slave of.Every woman is a prostitute at one time or the other.The total amount of unwanted sex endured by a married woman is greater than that in prostitution.What do you think is marriage?To me it's prostitution to one man instead of many.The actors are prostitutes too.We pay to watch them get cozy with someone when they too are in a monogamous relation.<br />
The incredibly gaping question now is,why are they all loved and the real ones hated?Why can't we be fair to them and give them a chance to live?Why is it that we need to put the weak down to feel better?Why can we not be fair to her?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-88001605261480157542010-06-27T09:45:00.009-05:002011-01-08T12:00:49.366-06:00...and the tiny heart ceased to beat..<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8DoFlazBthEnb7onygdP3-U7YvSiawGx0dAFYar5iGZhggfBS_VNovGwQis66jACHedbfN7_EUvUON88RLAh7rdDYdERH2Bupu8G1ZTyOASVEkiuaNmLkhD_RqBqI__uagv1-nkzQ5UQ/s1600/girlwitheggsketchcrop2resizemo.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487841350944627490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8DoFlazBthEnb7onygdP3-U7YvSiawGx0dAFYar5iGZhggfBS_VNovGwQis66jACHedbfN7_EUvUON88RLAh7rdDYdERH2Bupu8G1ZTyOASVEkiuaNmLkhD_RqBqI__uagv1-nkzQ5UQ/s400/girlwitheggsketchcrop2resizemo.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 400px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 320px;" /></a> Life's not so much about the evil pursuing of our passions as it is about attachment.Exact twenty days time he was with us,the tiny effulgent-ly colored bird.Used to sleep.A lot.I'd named him Sotad or the Sleepyhead,the only one I took pains to recognize among the other seven similar birds.The second thing after that day's somber noon I did was to write this.The first,I cried,more vehemently than I had in almost a year.Silent muffled sobs.Those tiny eyes will never stare back at me.I'll never marvel again at him digging his beak in his many feathers and going off to sleep(which he did the best)or preening his tail but I'll always fondly remember the twenty days that he did.When I saw him last,he lay still in the bowl we've kept to feed them,very still.That moment I knew he was dead but I still found myself wildly holding on to the last ray of hope of him feigning death but I knew better.I am still trying to figure out whether the memory of the death lingers for long or memory of the life that it purloined.I can't.I'm never having a pet again.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-60893874427090024002010-06-23T05:56:00.006-05:002010-10-26T08:18:42.877-05:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2wG9RXa7BEVAAf1p5Hq4YxCdJBC_gQuLtUwPbcfEX9boJR5WvBifMOnWZx6DqXbsg4w5aALnYBuTtjNTY94ZgoNMaGy_Ek4tsmCZAOJ8Lr-qhJ07Z0jeN-t6SRd2SvCp7Tc4djX435Jo/s1600/freedom2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485931296112972754" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2wG9RXa7BEVAAf1p5Hq4YxCdJBC_gQuLtUwPbcfEX9boJR5WvBifMOnWZx6DqXbsg4w5aALnYBuTtjNTY94ZgoNMaGy_Ek4tsmCZAOJ8Lr-qhJ07Z0jeN-t6SRd2SvCp7Tc4djX435Jo/s400/freedom2.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 400px; margin: 0 0 10px 10px; width: 385px;" /></a> I gaze up at the sky and the lightning tears it apart. The guilt eats me up alive. Clouds obliterate the sky. I love them,the clouds.I see something in them most of the time,if not always. The bustling-with-sloth-and-sullen-activities town obstructs my vision of the road. I still can trace the silhouette of high-rising-towering towers meant to conceal within its gray walls the silence of obscurity,of loneliness,of mobility not owning to some purpose,any purpose but to being afraid,perhaps to smile too much because it's not the smile coming from a jovial dressed gaily in ribbons and flounces-it's more like pleading,pleading for what,I know not. The rains stopped pounding fists on the window,my window,even when I'd have greeted it with open arms. I want to be able to tell someone,my someone "look how beautiful the view is",but too bad I can't think of a name. I want to be out,all by myself and not be sloshed with bereavement. I want to be out there and not be scared. I want to be out there and let the loneliness engulf me not forcefully but owing to my own volition. I want to be out there and kill the void that deepens day by day and the need of having someone to hold onto. All I ask for is freedom and the right to choose what I can see and what not.. I am not ready to face the dark world,not the whole of it,not yet..Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-4323650886556324532010-06-21T05:44:00.007-05:002010-10-26T08:19:52.515-05:00I wonder what they mean...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia0LQtngra-G70bsT5YH0r1bj4sqUrnfQdB1GtAr8y4FA7SV03880CV1hsVCbxFwuAZP4euL6erJ2ND0A-H3WGiJkVqQ-NQrGMNL2kmsjnGbBErJHtXkWmf-qBAxDE5No-6LyClsjQ468/s1600/c.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia0LQtngra-G70bsT5YH0r1bj4sqUrnfQdB1GtAr8y4FA7SV03880CV1hsVCbxFwuAZP4euL6erJ2ND0A-H3WGiJkVqQ-NQrGMNL2kmsjnGbBErJHtXkWmf-qBAxDE5No-6LyClsjQ468/s400/c.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485203625251061394" /></a> I tell her the dress is ill-fitting and makes her look fat!<br />
They tell me it's rude to point out things.<br />
I wonder what they meant.<br />
I tell him not to lick-arse.<br />
They tell me a lil' obsequiousness goes a long way.<br />
I wonder what they meant.<br />
I tell them I do not like what they got me for my big day.<br />
They tell me I shouldn't be such a faultfinder and say thank you even if I don't.<br />
I wonder what they meant.<br />
I tell my nanny that I love her.<br />
They ask me not to be such an ingratiating prig.<br />
I wonder what they meant.<br />
I talk to penury-stricken boys begging on the inconsiderate streets.<br />
They tell me I am weird.<br />
I wonder what they meant.<br />
I tell my father that I don't like his female colleague.<br />
He asks not to be my usual big-mouth in front of mother.<br />
I wonder what he meant.<br />
I tell my brother I don't like the smell of his white powder.<br />
He tells me it helps him regain his sang-froid.<br />
I wonder what he meant.<br />
I stare back unblinkingly at an uncle ogling at me.<br />
They tell me I shouldn't look such people in the eye.<br />
I wonder what they meant.<br />
I wear a Tee that says "I lost my teddy bear,will you sleep with me tonight?".<br />
They slap me hard and tell me it's obscene.<br />
I wonder what they meant.<br />
I tell his girlfriend that the back of her skirt's red.<br />
She tells me she's on her cycle.<br />
I wonder what she meant.<br />
I tell them I love life.<br />
They tell me it's easier said than done.<br />
I wonder what they meant.<br />
I ask them if it hurts to die.<br />
They tell me pain's a part of life.<br />
I wonder what they meant.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-1357992665283699382010-06-20T00:50:00.005-05:002010-10-26T08:20:11.932-05:00I wonder what it feels like...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsEVFV_gDay2S8CGq66uO-qPBwdfMQYAuwxkmm8fT8ZmMaJ6tyYgRA2Zrs3M_jqBnjv9JKJ6onqdiAfRp0RNcZDMMX3r2WqOxT12Q4Jv8vHlpjmzLbLPQIvE0X-8vqnu5kLSFn60dMz1c/s1600/longing.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsEVFV_gDay2S8CGq66uO-qPBwdfMQYAuwxkmm8fT8ZmMaJ6tyYgRA2Zrs3M_jqBnjv9JKJ6onqdiAfRp0RNcZDMMX3r2WqOxT12Q4Jv8vHlpjmzLbLPQIvE0X-8vqnu5kLSFn60dMz1c/s400/longing.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484735159768278050" /></a> when the hymen breaks and the spotless sheet ambers it way to red.<br />
when someone's inside of you.<br />
when you have a tiny shadow of him and you throwing tantrums but not before you first hold him up close in your hands extolling the features.<br />
when you first meet that someone you'd want to go through the travails of child-birth for.<br />
when you let him bite at you hungrily,when you let him hold you gently,when you let him run your fingers through your hair.<br />
when he looks at you with dark-indelible sexual impertinence in his eyes.<br />
when he draws out the curtains of shame that night and you're no more embarrassed of your naked self.<br />
when you tell him he's going to be a father.<br />
when you're going to be a mother.<br />
when you feel the slumberous heat rising in your chest,the illicit shiver running down the spine,the stomach wobbling with trepidation.<br />
when the protracted silence makes you want to kill.<br />
when you want him but upon him telling you that,fix him with a defiant gaze.<br />
when one touch inflicts the most irreparable damage.<br />
when he tells you that you're everything he'd imagined.<br />
when he swings you up into his arms.<br />
when you want to feel his bare skin against your own.<br />
when you shudder with a unknown desire as he paints kisses to your closed eyes.<br />
when you arch your back and press yourself against him,doing little to hide the provocation.<br />
when you're barely aware of him stripping your denims away.<br />
and when forever doesn't seem long enough to hold him captive inside the warmth of you..Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-76032339789686887182010-06-19T04:13:00.004-05:002010-06-19T04:59:37.911-05:00Life as he sees it..<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibIFo7hxtiKJDCd42TlmqY25MuS5vqqGrBCkIz-RiFcSfIO0V8de3mdLt0kpGtvWpmmlF7LkeeRY9SoJfXwvUO92j91y0HayEdOdDG8EJ1qiv6VKjI8YoCyhoMy-zGE1fA3c3cHXgrLlc/s1600/r.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibIFo7hxtiKJDCd42TlmqY25MuS5vqqGrBCkIz-RiFcSfIO0V8de3mdLt0kpGtvWpmmlF7LkeeRY9SoJfXwvUO92j91y0HayEdOdDG8EJ1qiv6VKjI8YoCyhoMy-zGE1fA3c3cHXgrLlc/s400/r.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484422222777306258" /></a>
As the interminable day came to an abrupt halt,I staggered out the working place,exhausted and started to brood on about how I'd get back home!A rickshaw came to my rescue,the manually driven one!I stared in amazement as I noticed who my rescuer was!A twelve year old boy!I asked him why did he have to do that and on he went baring his heart to me.He told me he had to work because his family in the village had no other source of income with which to meet both ends.He earns around a hundred and thirty bucks daily,out of which seventy straight-away goes to the Rickshaw's original proprietor.He told me how he's fed to his memory the names of all the major buildings in my area because without that prerequisite no one obliges him!He asked me if I'd do him a favor.I shrugged not knowing what to expect.With wistful eyes gazing up at me,he asked me if I could tell him the new building's name.He couldn't read..I did,not making an effort to conceal the poignancy and he was much too glad at the unexpected act of munificence.When you're bothered,with the pressures of the world more debilitating than ever driving you to cantankerousness,lending an ear to someone more bogged down and yet going on makes all your impediments fade into oblivion..Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-87270314529469116472010-06-16T03:40:00.004-05:002010-10-26T08:20:25.355-05:00..and the sky didn't fall down..<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4fgliY4Bo3pIhkHS_xHaPiuuzVfLHXYiRsf6HkWejB_-nj1MrErsETtFhwrkSdQmJ-PzLdU020aC8IUtsDbxqOmGYrxMxkwkmY-r9ZP0wmYyeoEMvwwghbUxm9oDKW3EP_VowzCMP7Qs/s1600/dark.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 110px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4fgliY4Bo3pIhkHS_xHaPiuuzVfLHXYiRsf6HkWejB_-nj1MrErsETtFhwrkSdQmJ-PzLdU020aC8IUtsDbxqOmGYrxMxkwkmY-r9ZP0wmYyeoEMvwwghbUxm9oDKW3EP_VowzCMP7Qs/s400/dark.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483711308928691858" /></a> ..at some corner of the world somebody is thinking of you.Yeah,right at this moment.This someone paints your picture with effulgent colors,the feel so vivid yet so fragile.One careless touch and it's no more to be.Someone's thinking of the way you twitch at the slightest of hurt,they way the smile-to-be is reflected so strongly in your dark eyes that it paints the world the same color,how you throw back your head in absolute anger-the otherwise ache-arousing countenance grave-looking and then how you let go lowering your eyes,silently asking him to promise it'd never happen again..These trivial thoughts are saving a whole world somewhere right now.Someone is trying to reach out to you and you're stretching a hand out without so much as realizing.You saved a world and the sky didn't fall down..Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-66435223414679907782010-06-12T13:21:00.006-05:002010-10-26T08:20:39.957-05:00Main bhi kitni stupid hoti thi!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKOs72aew6b91RKxOjd62tMWvukmwEnDGjrPE0ZwX86MaUkuo8_4qjQ4RSGzuZNjNUW6FJejfFwXlqqg2Lo9usxnbGvotSaHBTR6KqLHZyY1GFsdI9adTTgPBSD7MgDyNgbMm4z9GO22o/s1600/i.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 106px; height: 114px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKOs72aew6b91RKxOjd62tMWvukmwEnDGjrPE0ZwX86MaUkuo8_4qjQ4RSGzuZNjNUW6FJejfFwXlqqg2Lo9usxnbGvotSaHBTR6KqLHZyY1GFsdI9adTTgPBSD7MgDyNgbMm4z9GO22o/s400/i.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481962173164042530" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixN8rtzuQ9ThUMf7WXPOefvXLxf1uHXFUiVZVym-O_Tkemiiz0cX23TX6F2hfIJoW7ewN1AREBqkhAZ3WguzUZlIEz97qEpXo2HG7RDYhYZvNc4Wu8ki-pLM_xSbvBt1YQ-hXfnx8Huxc/s1600/i3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 135px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixN8rtzuQ9ThUMf7WXPOefvXLxf1uHXFUiVZVym-O_Tkemiiz0cX23TX6F2hfIJoW7ewN1AREBqkhAZ3WguzUZlIEz97qEpXo2HG7RDYhYZvNc4Wu8ki-pLM_xSbvBt1YQ-hXfnx8Huxc/s400/i3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481962165336993538" /></a> I was a bloated up kid(at least more than I am now!) and I used to think that wearing a tighter pair of denims and sucking my stomach in would make me curtail my corpulence and the general physical dilapidation!I believed that adding more number of people up on social networking sites might increase my popularity level,which wasn't to be.I thought being the C.R. of the class might make people behave obsequiously and hardly short of fawning.(I was wrong again).And that faux pas like having said "passed away" instead of "went past" and things like not being invited to a particular social gathering would leave me embittered forever.Not having a lot of friends to grab a Mc Veggie and watch a movie with would more often than not cause me privation and despair.If not devastated,I clearly was despondent!I remember how I used to tag myself a Pariah kid upon not being a slave to western music.Unnecessary waxing and short skirts became a few baffling aberrations in my taste which was to help me look like one of those hoity-toity bitches I so loathed,but I gradually grew to like their same eclectic deplorable taste,my dignity shambling,the individuality lost somewhere between the penumbral shadows of the somber edifices constructed innately by us namely originality and identity crisis!Didn't know that ten years from then,it wouldn't matter how many guys asked me out or how many boring parties I got an invitation to.Now I know better!If a man isn't faithful to his own identity,he can't be loyal to anything but I reckon certain defects are necessary for the existence of individuality.Remember bobbed hair makes woman look uniform.They lack individuality!Stay the way you are.No one's worth changing for!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-66659131609832812662010-06-11T10:38:00.005-05:002010-10-26T08:20:59.259-05:00Where does Happiness Lie?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_lqFBTFlghLrWLYD48Qr-BOTWgLbIYCLbsGgwpjNBpUXlP0hDZbjZdVWWSI8TJo0EMLao_tYM95xQSA6sz3wqkETHxakrYDVW23XuP9pDgGRxcsY0GCRhDrfheiAhRVaIWiAptB2wA-U/s1600/car.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 126px; height: 113px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_lqFBTFlghLrWLYD48Qr-BOTWgLbIYCLbsGgwpjNBpUXlP0hDZbjZdVWWSI8TJo0EMLao_tYM95xQSA6sz3wqkETHxakrYDVW23XuP9pDgGRxcsY0GCRhDrfheiAhRVaIWiAptB2wA-U/s400/car.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481552701518129730" /></a> <b>I took one chance at pursuing happiness You ask me what I paid Precisely an existence The Market-price,laconically they said..</b> Happiness in this world,when it comes,comes incidentally.Make it the object of pursuit,it lends us a wild-goose chase!It is like coke-something you get as a by-product while making something else. Happiness doesn't lie in a Ferrari 599 GTB Fiorano or a bikini figure or the proprietary handling of the man/woman of your dreams or a palatial house complete with jaccuzi,personal gym,sauna bath and a tennis court or becoming a business tycoon or the President.To me they are simply astounding cases of stagnant development for all of us wanted to be a business tycoon or the President at five!<b>Only fools choose to be somebody.</b> Ask yourself whether you're happy and you shall cease to be because we are more interested in making others believe that we're happy than in trying to be happy ourselves. <b>Happiness is our natural state.</b>Tension is not.That's why,after a certain moment,tension has to disappear.You can keep your hand open for as long as you want,it's in it's natural state but when you make a fist,how long can you keep it?It's a state of tension.Soon you'll find it tiring and the fist'll open.The relaxation is the space in which happiness grows and for no reason at all.It isn't that you're happy because of something,you're simply haapppyyy!! <b>**Then awake!The heavens look bright my dear. Making Love is the sovereign remedy for anguish,my dear! The best way to bring felicity to your stay Is to purloin a few hours from the night,my dear..=) **</b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-58012232771786198452010-06-08T22:04:00.007-05:002010-10-26T08:21:19.562-05:00Wine is bottled poetry and a hangover-the wrath of grapes!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKr7ossUpm4ur7IpjEsE0My1CQQhwwZE_604YVURsagleaoDnJ0Ea9XEtl2HHdRM4dHX6X3OEndCBDB8zU_Z7JX6mFprLCsofUIRcovI1QufV0TaZvq9sZqK3r2sHFFHTlQ4EBwKGMBV8/s1600/drunk.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 121px; height: 106px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKr7ossUpm4ur7IpjEsE0My1CQQhwwZE_604YVURsagleaoDnJ0Ea9XEtl2HHdRM4dHX6X3OEndCBDB8zU_Z7JX6mFprLCsofUIRcovI1QufV0TaZvq9sZqK3r2sHFFHTlQ4EBwKGMBV8/s400/drunk.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480611052810340994" border="0"></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzBulEPqKwZBsaDgXK0MKMa0wGxGPW5z7h1vsPhyphenhyphenhed40_ofDlBALMxwp6yU83TlXxiR7g5dV4uuRI44gEor3NUFrgDNrJZCoLgEAPWTzYva2kOUhevk1_CG4Yro3i7Ii1xtKmujZHAps/s1600/drunk3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 95px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzBulEPqKwZBsaDgXK0MKMa0wGxGPW5z7h1vsPhyphenhyphenhed40_ofDlBALMxwp6yU83TlXxiR7g5dV4uuRI44gEor3NUFrgDNrJZCoLgEAPWTzYva2kOUhevk1_CG4Yro3i7Ii1xtKmujZHAps/s400/drunk3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480611046018804258" border="0"></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIxzFy8e2g5NdPc36p3Ebyh4d0NM-UQw_ojQnhW02qOjS9SajfmXqsUEKDBz28xp1RnioImR89t7cx9LxRZjprTXV7tlAOntrCSJADBnOA9_oHUkTyIDO1BQQGdFmbQU4zJzjOlmMDEl0/s1600/drunk1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 86px; height: 126px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIxzFy8e2g5NdPc36p3Ebyh4d0NM-UQw_ojQnhW02qOjS9SajfmXqsUEKDBz28xp1RnioImR89t7cx9LxRZjprTXV7tlAOntrCSJADBnOA9_oHUkTyIDO1BQQGdFmbQU4zJzjOlmMDEl0/s400/drunk1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480611042873230114" border="0"></a> You drink so you may be intoxicated,I,so it may sober me from other intoxications..You ask me not to but I feel important when am high and when owing to that am tended to and caressed,the predilections howsoever silly,cared for and I have you by my side,someone I can hold on to when about to lose control..it's a matter of importance.It's symmetrical to an eccentric's own world.Like it gives the insane a better sense of security and importance,it does to me too..I feel a lot of things that I otherwise can not.The sense of reality wavers my faith in the higher power and at times relinquishing the grasp on it restores it making me cajole me that God's not dead,just drunk!There's this implacable longing not giving in to appeasing of any sort,as imperious as any other,as ubiquitous as the frogs in the rain..the desire to be important which is seldom gratified.The paranoid that I am..even the cuckoo seems like the harbinger of the harsh truth that wrecks all my dream ships on the harsh-sharp rocks of the reality so I resort to the sunny aisles of crapulence..my youth saunters past,the specter of my future mirrored in the goblet.My humble request is even if you can stretch out a hand and restore my so called sanity..don't do it.I am much happier as I am..Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-69321659684651493632009-07-27T05:13:00.002-05:002010-10-26T08:21:41.154-05:00The Authress.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif9uCLzsm01_9sjTy7ZD_7Uq_ZKKbe21M6JRVLmsDJYypq910abX1wvGmVLzUXembAdwGWzCBT6VyrpXXPKkR8xYviylke_bNQMwBHucgsbHFWNQWmCYXWJ7mNSgDS6Gg5RwhfOwLcnwQ/s1600/e3.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif9uCLzsm01_9sjTy7ZD_7Uq_ZKKbe21M6JRVLmsDJYypq910abX1wvGmVLzUXembAdwGWzCBT6VyrpXXPKkR8xYviylke_bNQMwBHucgsbHFWNQWmCYXWJ7mNSgDS6Gg5RwhfOwLcnwQ/s400/e3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485937480062090146" /></a> To me everything’s either Black or White, the two most powerful colors. I am a double Scorpion and a true one. I have a deep, strong commanding voice and just as strong a personality to go with and I hate it when they tell me I sound like a kid. Morally sound, guilty conscious, egotistic, highly obstinate, I know how to make people respect me. I don’t socialize with the opposite sex and think that’ll raise my popularity level. I don’t need to do that. I am anti-festive, anti-social. I am dark. I love the dimly lit ambience, silhouette of things, darkness around. I never shy away from looking into anyone’s eyes, my own gaze being deep-mystifying-piercing-hypnotic. I reek of passion, intensity, paradox, obsession, possessiveness and intensity. I have often been tagged as a perfectionist even when I’m ham-fisted and an untamed jay-walker. I often over-indulge in things. I suffer from obsessive-compulsive-disorder. When I lose it, I see neither wrong nor right. Pugnacious, my anger is uncontrollable and often destroys relationships. Even the most trivial of things wounds my soul. I haven’t yet found one person worth idolizing. I join no fan clubs. I deem very few people worthy of being friends with. I don’t have many friends. I am rather recluse, introverted, a Dreamer, a Thinker. You can not fathom me out. I am at times like a calm breeze caressing wounded hearts and at times the most aggressive of an animal and your description of me in any of the restricted frames would only make you a character assassin. Bigoted pessimistic paranoid, impudent reckless catatonic obfuscat-or. I am lavish, often spending more than necessary and a plausible arguementator. My thoughts are weird; views highly extreme, unbearable making me a thoroughbred fascist; dreams of World Domination, my feelings a whirlwind mess of mixed emotions and my words deep, more often than not, leaving a profound impact on people, churning the wheels of their brains into motion. I believe. I lack patience and often take important decisions in a jiffy owing to my impulsiveness. I often express or do things that I regret later. I am a master of powerful intuitions, strong sense of premonitions. Ignorance in people and slow thinkers drive me out of my mind. Once you get to know me you might get a feeling that I suffer from M.P.D and what is termed as Megalomania. I am cynical, reproachful yet bubbly, bawdy and boisterous but my thunderous silence has driven people crazy too. I am highly capricious and my mood swings like a twig suspended in a calamitous weather. I think beyond earthly realms. I hardly respect anybody. It is something hard to get. Brash, brutally truthful, I never praise people to get them high headed when I don’t mean it so when I tell you you’re a good singer, you should stop singing in the bathroom and grab hold of a microphone. I don’t ever ask for favors, I don’t want to appear needy. I hate to be at people’s mercy. I don’t allow people insights into the challenges I face as a not-so-paranormal human and make a show of my vulnerability. I don’t want to give them a chance to make fun of me when I feel low or know me better either for that matter. I keep myself to myself creating a reservoir of motion. Grandiloquent but I have a way with words and an uncanny ability to motivate others. I lack discipline and order. Sensory experiences are essential to the enjoyment of my life. I have been perceived as a wild child by adults and a source of concern by my family. I am my own harshest critic. I yearn for freedom. I am extremely idealistic and a visionary with the ability to influence and direct the masses. I am drawn to those who suffer at the hands of injustice. I am the righter of the wrongs and my deepest intention is to transform the world. From time to time, I find myself involved in a relation whose very life depends upon my willingness to sacrifice something that relates directly to my ego. I am a bad judge of character. I use my mind to penetrate the mysteries of life, with my abstract approach lifting my thinking beyond the rudimentary to the philosophical. I search beneath the surface and abhor shallow judgments and opinions. I am perceived as cool and aloof. I feel slightly removed and a little different. I distrust feelings-both my own and others and the unpredictability of the heart frightens me.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-80040713791991564912009-07-20T05:46:00.001-05:002010-10-26T08:21:55.951-05:00How empowered?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz9OaFoIQiw39ueMwFWkG8p2JWDPIyDZgmVT40yUeH4bS3biZow3bpbRwhc7PNgZtSUGsU0D1HO4mrrzhzj4y0GhBnCf06pnvzfNVVqJFdCfRrTzBE_l2AaQ6nVu3ghIyVoXTpTP6pnbM/s1600-h/r1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 130px; height: 119px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz9OaFoIQiw39ueMwFWkG8p2JWDPIyDZgmVT40yUeH4bS3biZow3bpbRwhc7PNgZtSUGsU0D1HO4mrrzhzj4y0GhBnCf06pnvzfNVVqJFdCfRrTzBE_l2AaQ6nVu3ghIyVoXTpTP6pnbM/s400/r1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360521973717476866" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmEtYgrze3P7Hfn_HvtMzZuxi7JlJoNV_QNlAXvkKF_8eIy_t03cnpV_hHC3-XVGf_UQAVl4d6zkaJmq1TpypJi5LvpgI30O8FDsWicHo3PUvd4PWn9O2nSLKyG2QcFDV_Z4yBjjo81Rs/s1600-h/r2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 81px; height: 123px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmEtYgrze3P7Hfn_HvtMzZuxi7JlJoNV_QNlAXvkKF_8eIy_t03cnpV_hHC3-XVGf_UQAVl4d6zkaJmq1TpypJi5LvpgI30O8FDsWicHo3PUvd4PWn9O2nSLKyG2QcFDV_Z4yBjjo81Rs/s400/r2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360521972983484850" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP22v9f_Ke9Gj0LzBcnw85zt_x_yvXevpWycDXYJJtbTwnu-a7bP7lMup5KWiJQ8EKwUTuBGtRvIZCFf2N4EPKAGcq3-ir13Q4n2W9rr9Ux8aH0tGevIlMCtcNpuu3zkgzVfYpP6v-3nY/s1600-h/r3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 135px; height: 101px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP22v9f_Ke9Gj0LzBcnw85zt_x_yvXevpWycDXYJJtbTwnu-a7bP7lMup5KWiJQ8EKwUTuBGtRvIZCFf2N4EPKAGcq3-ir13Q4n2W9rr9Ux8aH0tGevIlMCtcNpuu3zkgzVfYpP6v-3nY/s400/r3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360521969187856978" /></a> Had it not been for shame God would’ve never discovered that Adam and Eve had eaten from the forbidden tree of Knowledge and looks like this is what the rapists today are employing in the heinous lives that they lead thinking that they’ll never be nailed down. Girls as young as 3 years old are being targeted by the Rapists, gang-raped and then mercilessly killed. They are not just fearless but proud of their horrendous doings. What else could justify the three prime accused in the Surat Gang-Rape making the MMS clips while victimizing innocent girls and selling them off? Nothing is being done about it for the cops themselves have many-a-times been accused of gang-raping women. What can be expected of such an ill-administered Country where the laws are crushed shamelessly by the rich sons of bastards, where the people employed to enforce rules are themselves driven by lust and even if they are not, they can be easily brought to the rapist’s favor with Money-power! In India, money talks. In this scenario, we cannot really blame most of the victims who do not come out and report about the wrong being done to them, for they know that nothing will happen about it. Either she will be silenced or the court will support the rapist or the alibi will be bought or the evidence destroyed or the case will simply not get a hearing. No body comes to the victim’s rescue. She is treated like an outcaste. People would rather stay away from her. She suffers from social stigma. All her dreams of ever marrying a decent man are shattered. Her own people disown her at times; for some, Marriage proposals aren’t ever on the cards and for others suicide seems the only way out to end their as well as their family’s ordeal even as the culprits walk free amongst us without us realizing who the next target might be. Whether women walk on the streets with or without a male companion, they are more often than not passed comments on, stalked, checked out disgustingly by eve-teasers and there’s absolutely nothing being done about their security. Its becoming more and more difficult for the fairer sex to lead an independent, un-aided, fearless life with the crime rates against women sky-rocketing. Its a shame that we have to constantly live under fear, be always accompanied by a male companion, maintain a low-profile while walking on the streets by not wearing whatever we want to else we be the next on their ‘hit-list’. Why is it that we still feel unsafe even in crowded public places like Malls and Pubs? Do we not have an equal right as men to walk about unconstrained? Why are women being beaten up and molested upon going to Pubs with their friends? Why is everyone’s thinking still orthodox and backwards when it comes to women? Why are we treated like child-producing-good-for-nothing-whores? Why do we still not get an equal opportunity to show men where we stand? I myself am horrified at the thought of stepping out of the house alone after late evening. Women still are un-liberated. Even the vegetable sellers these days have the audacity to touch a lady’s hand while handing her the cash back. We are required to prove ourselves twice as much as our male counterparts and even then we undergo discrimination. The moment we stir out of the house, we’re considered public property and ogled at. As a girl who’s continuously being asked by her parents to carry a pepper spray as a ‘feel good factor’, I got just one question to raise, how empowered are we?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-72068487923336980672009-07-19T07:44:00.001-05:002010-10-26T08:22:11.538-05:00Things donot change. We do.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAJ1yL8BYk3WExxGrs1Tz64io_kg7_NN8AL-48AUtqv7vnlDmE9tEuAOV_1ZDHr_BwVcBdCcgSEFcPNxmm0oSh6TUTEA_8BeToe7_ZUJ3zIX4-YKRUzrgjFrWqLyl3lOfYydrR2JggfU4/s1600-h/8c9939bd7fe0831e.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 145px; height: 108px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAJ1yL8BYk3WExxGrs1Tz64io_kg7_NN8AL-48AUtqv7vnlDmE9tEuAOV_1ZDHr_BwVcBdCcgSEFcPNxmm0oSh6TUTEA_8BeToe7_ZUJ3zIX4-YKRUzrgjFrWqLyl3lOfYydrR2JggfU4/s400/8c9939bd7fe0831e.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360525409437484066" /></a> I dragged myself home from school and I looked like I had aged by five years since the beginning of the new session. Even today my cheeks were tear stained, eyes watery and red. My parents had passed away in an unfortunate accident when I was very young. I now live with my grandma. She is old and weak, but much too strong at heart to admit it. She isn’t much educated but is a lady of vast knowledge and wisdom. I quietly sat across her waiting for her to ask me what had gone wrong today, so I could shout at her and tell her how I hate going to school and how lonely I feel, but instead she sat me in her lap and thus began.. “Do you know why you cry so often?” I silently shrugged. “It is because you expect too much from people. Do you not see changes around you? Times have changed, things have changed, atmosphere has changed, surroundings have changed and my child so should you! Do you know that love is the noblest frailty that enchants the mind and wisdom is love that sings in the mind and if we could enchant man’s heart and at the same time sing in his mind, then in reality he would live in the shadow of God? But today he has come a long way to achieve his dreams, so much so that he doesn’t even remember who his creator is, doesn’t know how to love, doesn’t know how to respect things that never was his and doesn’t know that glory follows wisdom and virtue like its shadow but ultimately leads to grave and perhaps won’t ever resign to the fact that He is incorporeal, infinite, supreme and He is love, life and the only truth earth holds in its bosom.” I looked completely lost and I had no idea where all this was leading, but nonetheless whatever she said was captivating and so I decided to keep mum and listen to her. “I wish men today knew that we live only to discover beauty. Beauty of a tender heart, beauty of the soul sacrificing one’s pleasure for other’s sake, beauty of that human being’s life who lived, only so he could give life to others and I wish men knew that all else is a form of longing. All materialistic gains, successes, dreams are a form of waiting and no longing or waiting remains unfulfilled. Today we see sky scrappers kissing that once blue, sapphire sky, in which birds still dream to soar high and free but which now has sadly turned to a bitter shade of grey. We see factories erected here and there with their chemical effluents polluting water bodies making their once pure, cold, sparkling water unfit for any further usage. The suffocating dust and smoke of the cities having disastrous effects on our health and wither flora and fauna at the site of emission, the horrifying sight of hills denuded of greenery, the patches of white colored soil all point to the greediness, changing mentality and deteriorating environment around us. Trees that were once thought of as poems the earth writes upon the sky are felled down to clear space and are used to make paper and journals in which we record our emptiness. Today the souls of the children of the lesser god are parched with thirst. Our most considerate selves have left them to rodents to perish and die. It isn’t that those children carry bowls that He did not bless or dreamt dreams that weren’t showered with generous benedictions that He bestowed upon us, but its us-the slightly luckier ones, who out of sheer habit step on other’s dreams, crush them to death, mutilate the innocence of childhood, the purity of the soul to quench our thirsts; exploit the wisdom of the aged, passion of manhood, vulnerable youthfulness of nubile women to earn bread to fill our already filled selves. Such drastic happenings are being recorded and brought to light everyday and so now people who used to be firm believers of God, now doubt his very existence. Hey Ram, if there exists a Ram, save their souls, if they have a soul!” This line made me sit up straight and look into her eyes. There was wistfulness and some strange feeling of remorse and guilt in them which sent a chill down my spine. I did not dare interrupt her. Talking more to herself than me she mused out loud,” Why have people become so self-centered? Why are they pursuing worldly pleasures when they know that everything meets its sad yet much awaited end? Be it a relationship, money, fame, success or physical beauty, nothing is forever! In old days the song that used to silently lie in the heart of the mother was sung by the child…such was the bond, but today mothers sings lullabies so she herself may sleep. Earlier the mothers-to-be were at par with Almighty for they are the bows from which whole new lives as arrows are sent forth. Now all that the mothers know is the pain and agony of childbirth and bearing. Earlier the mothers used to be up the whole night to see her child peacefully sleeping and now all you can see is the anguish of the mother wrestling with the sleep in her eyes, cursing her child and longing even more for the sleep she craves. So much has changed in so little a time my child and you talk about your friends not being nice to you? Mope and whine not because they don’t return your affection but rather be all smiles for they at least acknowledge your presence unlike God’s who created us all and who’s name has been long forgotten.” I was touched by her deep thoughts. I hadn’t understood much because later I recorded my emptiness in my journal but whatever she said was sure something of a jewel. Grandma had set the wheels of my mind in motion. I started thinking about things she’d just said and thinking is the stumbling stone to poetry. He is above us all; above my personal grievances, your messy love life, his family problems and above her painful marital affairs, and so I decided to write something dedicated to Him which I vaguely remember. Here’s the emptiness I recorded in my journal that day. The colorful fly and the rainbow alike The softness of the silk and the petals alike. The toughness of the rocks and the strength of the wind, The fury of the storm and the rage of the waves Does give me goose pimples and take my breath away all over again And makes me realize that it’s a world too apart to be a equated to loss or gain..Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869737639074794558.post-88158737115068488552009-07-19T04:46:00.002-05:002010-10-26T08:22:27.326-05:00On TRP hogging shows where you go sell your dignity.Reality shows like ‘Bindaas Dadagiri’ and ‘MTV Roadies’ is what I am referring to in here, I be debunking the myth. These shows are very popular among the juvenile populace not because they are ‘kewl’ but because the peoples are blinded by an unexplainable fetish for fame and money which is sickening to the hilt. The craving for fame is not what I am against as a matter of fact, but the way its being arrived at. Through shows like these. Contestants bare their hearts out there claiming that they want to gain ‘respect’. Who do they think they are fooling? The public? The losers who think that by taking part in such meretricious shows and doing 'tasks' that they are asked to do, they’ll gain ‘respect’, then I am very Sorry to say that its not how things work. Your physical strength is no way even close to the amount of enormous power you possess within, the tremendous amount of knowledge you can gain with the help of an inexhaustible learning capacity and the gift of your creative and imaginative brain with which you can transform the World! By going to such shows, all that happens is you’re patronized. By the producers/anchors and fellow contestants. It makes me feel how those people have not even an iota of self-respect in themselves, how they have no dignity left and how badly clouded have their visions become by running in the rat-race seeking fame and glory. I have strong contempt for such spineless weaklings who want the easy way out, can’t put forth their aptitudes and competency levels in their real lives, resorting to such fucked up ways. There’s also a camera shoved up your backside 24/7 throughout your stay on the sets of the show, giving the World an unnecessary account of even the fact that you wear a padded bra. Now tell me, do you see sense in that? Do you think you’re being ‘brave’ by exposing such things on National television? That people will think you’re cool because you’ve the audacity to accept the truth without even a tinge of shame on your face? That people will think its right to talk nonsensical shit about someone’s breast size, disgrace them while defending yourself, masquerading as a condescending bully? If you’re one of those thick-headed wannabes then get a bloody hold on yourself! You cannot go up by crushing others and shamelessly stepping over them! This way you might be illusioned by the fallacy that you’ve earned ‘respect’ but the fact will remain that you’ve incidentally lost much more of it. Your compromising on your self-respect will take you nowhere. If you can’t respect yourself and let people talk shit to you because you couldn’t give your ‘100%’ , then no one else ever will respect you. You might get momentary recognition for being on the Television but people will soon forget you leaving you feel traumatized at the kind of behavior meted out to you in front of millions of people. Such kind of fame is like an evanescent bubble, you blink once and pop they vanish into oblivion. On the other hand, your becoming a business tycoon or doing the World any good will forever etch your initials in people’s minds and bring you laurels in the form of lifetime recognition. The pick is left unto you.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07237760351841733579noreply@blogger.com0