tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7854657787743657102024-03-22T07:15:53.353+05:30Words on WingsDream Ever, Fear Never...Malavika :)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-72430506449535435402014-12-05T00:02:00.001+05:302014-12-05T00:02:13.570+05:30Ashes<b>You choke me with your words,</b><br />
<b>I am searching for my voice.</b><br />
<b>You thrash me with your hostility,</b><br />
<b>I am writhing in pain.</b><br />
<b>You blind me with your vision,</b><br />
<b>I am staggering in the dark.</b><br />
<b>You crush me from within,</b><br />
<b>I am reduced to dust.</b><br />
<b>And then you set me ablaze,</b><br />
<b>I am burnt to ashes.</b><br />
<b>But from those very ashes,</b><br />
<b>I rise, a phoenix, born again.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>*This is me trying to take a 26-day challenge. Back after a long time, so my style is a but rusty.*</b><div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-7897411051503925882014-07-21T19:45:00.001+05:302014-07-21T19:47:20.077+05:30MarksThe wooden table top was covered in ink. Words called out to her, begging to be noticed. In the final moments of the exam hour, with the idle silence egging her on, she obliged.<br />
<br />
There had been people here, before her. People who had left something behind.<br />
<br />
Letters strewn across. Marks.<br />
<br />
There was something about those careless scribblings that amused her. There were song lyrics, there were names, there were science and math formulas.<br />
<br />
She imagined people sitting around in groups, surrounded by moments transforming into memories. Some bitter, some sweet. She pictured students, fingers curling in frustration, desperate to scrape through the infinite list of examinations and tests. She saw them smile with unspoken gratitude for the inked pointers. She saw the jubilant faces, glowing with the triumph of having declared the slogan of their life to the rest of the world, slogans etched in wood. She smiled as she read the names, together in print. How many of those names still remained together, she'd never find out. How many of those bonds had slowly faded away, like these words soon would, she'd never know.<br />
<br />
The crude drawings, the random array of letters, to someone somewhere, held meanings. And now, she felt connected to all those unknown people, in one of the most subtle manifestations of the word.<br />
<br />
As the moments stretched before her, she felt herself becoming a part of it all, a part of the grand scheme of things.<br />
She was not the first one here, nor will she be the last. But nonetheless, she still had a part to play. She still had a mark to leave.<br />
<br />
On the wooden table.<br />
<br />
On the only Earth.<br />
<br />
She bent down and left her mark.<br />
<br />
"I was here", she wrote.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-88137479722837147772014-02-10T16:33:00.001+05:302014-02-10T16:39:54.200+05:30The Reflection<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Wherever he turned, he found the same reflections staring
back at him.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Inside the mirror maze, there was nowhere to run.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Every turn brought him face to face with another reflection.
Another dead end.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>There were voices around him, fading away with every passing
minute.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>What if daddy never found him? What if he was left alone? </b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>A thousand questions buzzed inside his head. </b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>No answers came to him, no reassurances. Just a hammering
heart and sweaty palms.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The lights began to flicker. His stomach coiled in terror.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Surely, they wouldn’t leave him alone here. Surely, daddy
would find him.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The lights kept flickering. He searched around him, groping
in semidarkness for the familiar fabric of daddy’s jacket.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>He found nothing. Only reflections. Eyes and pale faces staring
back at him. All around him, no matter where he looked.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Slowly, the reflections – the eyes, the pale faces- were
closing in on him, suffocating him.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>His knees buckled, his breathing ragged.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The lights flickered one last time.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>And then..blackness.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>*********</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>“Frightened probably..medication..post traumatic
hallucination..psychological stress..counselling maybe..”</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>He caught bits of their conversation as he resurfaced from
the void of unconsciousness. </b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The words made no sense to him. Besides, he was too tired to
bother.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The sterile scent of hospital air was thick around him. He
sat up, facing the polished glass window of the dingy hospital room.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>A chill ran through his spine. His pulse quickened.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The eyes!</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>The same pale face. As pale as a spectre. A reflection.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>He heard himself scream, as if from another dimension.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>And then..blackness.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>************</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Doctors. They told
him hope is the best medicine.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>They held endless discourses, urging him to <i>discover his
inner self</i> and <i>face his fears</i>.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>What are they talking about, he often thought to himself.
They never seemed to understand that with every growing moment, the fear had
grown with him. Into him. </b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The fear was him. He was the fear.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>************</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The rain left him drenched to the core.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>But there was something about the sound of splashing rain
that set him free. He kept walking on the wet pavement, rubbing his hands
together to warm his numb fingers.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The street was full of rainwater pools, scattered like
silver polka dots on a dark grey fabric. </b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>His phone beeped. Must be another one of dad's anxious
texts. Dad was always worried, always trying to help. Only he knew that his
situation was beyond any help.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>A quite sigh escaped his lips as he took out the phone from
his pocket. Along with the phone, came a coin that landed near his feet with a
cling. He bent down to pick it up. His gaze slipped to a nearby pool. </b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Too late. The eyes, they had found him once again. The face,
it was as pale as ever.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Every cell in his body screamed. Silently. Agonizingly.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>His legs felt like columns of lead, refusing to move as he
willed them to. His teeth were clenched with the effort.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>A gust of cold wind blew
across the street. His blood turned to ice in his veins.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>And then..blackness.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>***********</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Years of counselling.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Years of changing medication.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Yet, on every reflective surface, he saw the same pair of
eyes. The same pale face, as pale as a spectre. In that moment of indefinite
terror, he would become the same little boy once again, terrified and alone in
a maze of reflections.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>********</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>“Come closer..do you feel my heartbeat?”</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Her face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Their faces were close enough to be breathing the same air.</b><br />
<b>Her touch, it made him feel complete.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>“It says..’I want you’..”, she whispered. Her breath tickled
his ears.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Yes, maybe all wasn’t lost yet. Maybe he would find
happiness in her arms.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>His fingers brushed against her lips. His eyes found hers.
Their gazes locked.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>In that moment, reflected in her hazel eyes, he saw it
again.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Closer than ever.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The same pale face, as pale as a spectre.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Quickening pulse. A scream.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>And then..blackness.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<b><br /></b>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><b><br /></b></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><i><b>This story is an attempt to explore the mind of a person suffering from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eisoptrophobia" target="_blank">Eisoptrophobia</a>, the fear of one's own reflection. The reflections are of many kinds, but the reaction never changes. </b></i></o:p></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-81992474321278171662013-08-04T21:45:00.001+05:302013-08-05T20:52:06.473+05:30The Warrior<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><written a="" changes="" competition="" did="" during="" event.="" fest="" few="" i="" make="" pre-publishing="" short="" story="" though="" two-hour="" writing="" youth=""></written></span><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>A blood curdling scream pierced the silent night.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>Aafiya sat up on her bed, her heart ramming against her
chest. Was it Shonaya? Or Mumtaz? It
could be anyone of the neighbours, she thought. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>Parting the curtain just a few millimetres, Aafiya looked
out through the only window in the house. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>In the pale moon light, she saw some dark figures dragging a
body from Shonaya’s house.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>The masked men were back.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>Like the whimpering of a lamb right before it was sacrificed
for the greater good, Aafiya heard a sound from her best friend. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>Shonaya..Shonaya had been taken. Tomorrow they will come for
me, she realised.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>This had been going on ever since the neighbouring nation
had proclaimed war on Aafiya’s home land. Torturing the villagers had become a
source of pleasure and entertainment for the enemy men.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>The women had to walk in groups of ten or twenty to the
village well to fetch water. Even then, the ones on the periphery of the group
were harassed. Their <i>dupattas </i>were
tossed into the air. They were exposed. Their men were killed in the open air.
Their children were kidnapped and sold as slaves. And at night..at night it was the woman’s turn
to succumb to the will of the masked men. Once their lust was quenched, a
gunshot. Only broken bangles remained to prove of the existence of countless
helpless women. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>Aafiya thought of her children, sleeping, unaware of a world
that was falling apart. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>Reminiscence, she realised, was like the mellow rays of the
setting sun. They fall tenderly, yet sadly, on hearts.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><b><br /></b></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Aafiya felt like her heart might explode with
joy. Motherhood had transformed her. The moment she had felt a life pulse in
her womb, things had changed. Suddenly, her existence had acquired a deeper
meaning. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Aamir was overjoyed when the girls were born. “Twins,
Aafiya, two little princesses..”, he had exclaimed, stroking Aafiya’s hair.
That day, in his strong arms, she had experienced contentment.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>Alas, the sun had set. The golden glow had given way to
darkness.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>But Aafiya had fought the darkness with every ounce of her
remaining strength. Slowly, she had learned to weave beautiful tapestries out
of the rag her life had become. She had held on, for the sake of her children. She
would sacrifice herself without a second thought, if it would help her little
girls to have a better life. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>But no, the string had been cut. Now the kite was fluttering
away, out of reach.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i>A copper wrist band,
that was all the villagers could find. It was covered in blood, caked with dust.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i>A single word was
etched on it – Aamir.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i>Maybe they saw a
threat in his unfaltering gaze. Or maybe it was just their idea of fun.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i>Aamir was never coming
back, that's all Aafiya knew.<b><o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>Somewhere deep within her mind, fire broke the ice.
Suddenly, the fire was everywhere. Scorching her insides, stinging her eyes.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Aafiya – she who is
untouched by grief.</span><b><o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>The irony was like a slap on her face.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>She had to escape. She had to protect her children. She had
to save them from a childhood of gunshots and severed limbs on the streets. She
had to wash away the blood stains from their minds.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>Grabbing the little money she had hidden in her pillow case,
with a make-shift baby-carrier slung around her shoulders, Aafiya stepped into
the night. A kitchen knife would be her weapon of survival.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>Aafiya walked on, her pace quickening with every step. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>With her heart beating in her throat, she reached the
outskirts of the village.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>She could see the highway. There, protected by high walls,
she could see the monastery.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>The monastery would be her sanctuary. The enemy men were
worshippers, they always left the monastery alone.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>She looked around. The absence of pursuers bothered her.
Surely, they wouldn’t leave the borders unguarded.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>“<i>Jaan,</i> thought you
could fool mighty men?”, a voice called from behind.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>Aafiya felt a hand grip her shoulder. “The night is cold.
Want to step in somewhere warm with me?”, the man laughed with glee. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>Aafiya strained her ears for more sounds. No, there weren’t
any others. Just one man. The others would catch up soon. She didnt have much
time.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>Her hand tightened around the
knife handle.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>With the element of surprise to
help her and just reminiscence to fuel
her, Aafiya turned the stuck the knife into the man’s eye. No, she would not kill to save her life. Aafiya
valued intergrity, not vengeance. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>The man fell to the ground,
writhing in agony.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>And Aafiya ran. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>She ran for her life. She ran for
a better future for her kids. She ran for freedom.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b>Like innumerable others spread
across the pages of history, on a starry night in a dark alleyway, fighting for
survival, Aafiya became a warrior. A warrior who will never receive garlands
and words of praise, but never-the-less, a warrior. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<a href="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTuBPQimYw0kB5YNSfvlrlJ1uInRyCOyHWTL9l-KnKv1jviAp_fdg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTuBPQimYw0kB5YNSfvlrlJ1uInRyCOyHWTL9l-KnKv1jviAp_fdg" /></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-80356283417527140772013-07-06T20:33:00.001+05:302013-08-05T20:57:55.453+05:30I am Torn<div class="MsoNormal">
<b> I am torn</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Between words that draw me</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>To what’s beyond the horizons</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>And logic that tells me</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Horizon is just a trick of light.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I am torn</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Between emotions that surge,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b> gush through my
blood.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>And logic that tells me</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Its just hormonal action.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I am torn </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Between love that binds me,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Keeping me alive and sound</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>And logic that tells me,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Food, water ‘n air do that.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I am torn</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Between tears of grief,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Of heart-break and loneliness</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>And logic that tells me</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Its just aqueous NaCl.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I am torn</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Between the fire of imagination,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Dancing before my eyes,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>And logic that tells me</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Fire can only heat and burn.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.aboutmiami.co/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/e7595_miami_beach_girls_2200399026_2f3121e643.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://www.aboutmiami.co/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/e7595_miami_beach_girls_2200399026_2f3121e643.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-16104466566658625922013-03-31T22:26:00.000+05:302013-03-31T22:31:27.384+05:30Fear<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Fear. It is like a serpent,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Grasping, crushing and choking me.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Its fangs burn through my will,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Poisoning the fiber of my existence.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Fear. It leaves scars,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Scars that time might never heal.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Scars that hold me back,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Thoughts that dampen and diminish.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Fear. It changes everything.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>It steals what was once mine.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I am left with nothing, as</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>What is left shall never be mine.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Fear. I try to break out,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Out of its abyss, out of nothingness.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Only too late do I realize,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Everything inside me is broken.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-8254971402529481862013-02-10T15:12:00.002+05:302013-02-10T15:53:20.807+05:30Washed Away<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Sunitha’s tears were heavier than the rain outside.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Rain..it brought back memories.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Memories she was trying hard to forget.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>***</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>“Amy! Get inside, will you?”, Sunitha shouted over the
splatter of rain. “You’ll catch a cold.”</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>But Amy wasn’t ready to get inside. Drenched to the core,
she felt excited and unstoppable.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>“Amy love rain..rain..Amy happy!”, she told her mother with
a giggle.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Sunitha could not help but smile. Amy’s face..red with
excitement..her happiness..it all filled Sunitha’s mind with warmth.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Her daughter was 15 and mentally retarded. But for Sunitha,
she was the world.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>“Sunitha..where’s Amy?”, Rajeev had come out of the house
looking for his daughter.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Outside, he found his daughter drenched in the rain and his
wife drenched in affection.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>As soon as she spotted him, Amy ran to her dad. The father
and daughter were inseparable. And Sunitha liked it that way.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>****</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The memory brought a curl to Sunitha’s lips. But there were
more..memories hit her like cold wind.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>****</b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>“Here they come with the mad girl!”, people would talk
behind their backs. But nothing could dampen Rajeev’s and Sunitha’s spirits. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>They were determined to give Amy a normal life, as much as
possible.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Having mental retardation wasn't a sin, after-all.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Amy could do all her activities alone. Only when it came to
academics and controlling emotions, she was slow.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>But as far as Sunitha and Rajeev were considered, Amy was
the perfect daughter.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Because Amy was capable of loving innocently, unlike the
neighbour’s “perfect” kid. She loved even the people who called her mad.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Amy’s mind was pure. And as far as Sunitha and Rajeev were
considered, that was enough.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>****</b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>“Why hasn’t Amy returned from school yet?”, Sunitha couldn’t
suppress her worry anymore.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Afterall, it was her idea to let Amy return home alone after
school. It was her desperate attempt to show the world that Amy was capable of
living independently. And it had been
going fine for a week now.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>But now, it was 5 pm and Amy wasn’t home yet.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>With a pounding chest, Sunitha dialed Rajeev’s number.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>****</b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>They searched every nook and corner.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>They searched the school area, they searched every road.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>They searched the city, they searched the neighbourhood.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>8 pm. 9 pm. 10 pm. 11 pm. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Amy was nowhere to be seen.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>At midnight, when it started raining, Rajeev got a call from
the police.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Their daughter was found. But not how they had expected.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>****</b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<o:p><b><br /></b></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>They pushed through the crowd to find their daughter lying
cold and motionless on the ground.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Her clothes were torn.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Her curly hair was tangled.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The midnight rain washed away the dirt from Amy’s face.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>But it could not wash the hopelessness that had surrounded her
parents’ life.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>It could not wash away the monster called grief.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>It could not wash away their tears.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Above all, it could not wash away the memories of an
innocent girl called Amy, who had every right to live.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 182.25pt; text-align: justify;">
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMKIZFcVQL0Wll0PhMqWijrH4e5q27r_g2un9BmLykFg5qZe4JF6eUeV0XVNYpe2PE8cPYF_g8l1wiJcztdhjcIQrhr9MGonNkwKHeYkFNRdO07z2zsJCKGBQCkozpx_jbSNYP81wa4DQ/s1600/midnight+rain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMKIZFcVQL0Wll0PhMqWijrH4e5q27r_g2un9BmLykFg5qZe4JF6eUeV0XVNYpe2PE8cPYF_g8l1wiJcztdhjcIQrhr9MGonNkwKHeYkFNRdO07z2zsJCKGBQCkozpx_jbSNYP81wa4DQ/s1600/midnight+rain.jpg" /></a></div>
<b> </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-41179603488164956762012-12-31T20:23:00.002+05:302012-12-31T20:39:16.681+05:30Darkness<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
*Written during the District Level Eng Versification contest*</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Searching for a light,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Plunged in silence so loud, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Darkness is what I find,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No matter where I look.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The darkness is profound</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In every venomous fang,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Drooling with dark lust, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Biting into feminity.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The darkness is evident</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In every blood stained hand,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Always in search of something</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To be looted and consumed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The darkness is definite</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the ever-hungry eyes</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That see the figures on cheques,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But not figures writhing in pain.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The darkness is growing </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In every straying mind</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thinking ‘I’ before ‘we’,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Always ‘me’ before ‘they’.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The darkness is ready to pounce</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On every clueless soul</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To corrupt it until its crippled</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To choke it until its dead.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Only if I knew how,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would tear away the dark veil</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For, now the darkness is darker</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Darker than it has ever been.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-85432569805087204822012-11-20T18:51:00.000+05:302012-11-20T18:51:37.114+05:30Second Chance<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Even though they say I’m dead, I am not able to accept it.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Mainly because I don’t <i>feel
</i>dead. My senses are sharp as ever.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>No pain. No golden light. No hell fire. No angels. No
‘getting-sucked-into-oblivion’ business. And still they say I’m dead!</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The more I try not to think about it, the more it keeps
popping in my mind – the look on my daughter’s face this morning. She had come
to my room with the usual bed coffee, to find her father lying cold and
motionless on the bed. I wanted to console her, tell her I was fine. But my
body refused to obey my orders.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I can see her now – sitting across the room, her eyes red
with crying. She looks so fragile. I wish I had been more kind to her. I wish I
had truly expressed my love. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>During the divorce, I fought hard for her custody. At that
time, it was the most I could do to wound my wife. But once the goal was
achieved, what did I do? Stay away from her as much as possible just because
her face and habits reminded me of her mother’s. But now, I wish I had been
more considerate.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>From where they have laid my body, I can see up to the front
gate.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I am amazed as I see a familiar woman walk up the front
steps. I am more amazed when I see the tears sparkling in her eyes - the same
way they did when our names were spoken together for the last time, in the
court.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I realize how much I missed her. I realize I was wrong about
her, all along. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I wonder how she can still cry for my loss. I wonder if I would've done the same, if she was the one draped in white.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I wonder what went wrong. And now, the answer seems obvious
– it was me. I went wrong.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>My priorities were not what they should have been.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I ran behind the wrong things, and lost what was right.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Money, fame, power, luxury – I have ‘em all. But I find a
hollow space in my heart, where happiness should have been. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Emotions and relations – I dealt with them like a
businessman. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I see my daughter hugging her mother. They have the same
amber eyes, now brimming with tears. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I wish I could stand beside them, with my hand around their
shoulders – being the beloved man I never was.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I wish I had seen earlier, what I can see now – happiness
comes from little things in life.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>People raise me from the floor and I hear my beloveds crying
harder.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>People set me down in the earth, in a freshly dug pit. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>As they shovel dirt
over me, I have one desperate wish – a second chance in life is all that I
need.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<o:p><b> </b></o:p><a 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sxshqlv4dgrzYruRgyoMpLHYqopjWw6lL3BAwwSvMbxroVvaOe4XzAFajAMb2a4oNvGrcgQVPVghWPq0BN7LrprJa6uCEmxLvQa7BJbl3h+6PxQgRDfXUJBwZN0jpP6R63v7JvjMueQNGzfogqijs2/dz9f2Sl8t3HuTLE5MkYHn6rPPqejifI7Zoc4+QvZAQMQjdIYg4GQDMRrcD5cwimT2NneX7LAcL4gBVlzi5z5Rawbu9zrka20Flu5mXQdyY3FE9rHu67/haA5zj32aD3+iNqrWusXiWCS9L/Ewv/EZq5rtiGi3VJ0sRuD36q3GOJpP4FsmQsfIcoPIAgnOL7XA08UD9tnHX/wCLuSiZI3JI0OFwRftabjzWG4fwYvmY95MY3a0yXkkIF723tzTqGodV1T2B5bFA7VouDI4EjUjXLcFA3qOHYJJQ90YL9NddbbXF7HzRmJwAwuBYXgggtG5vyvyWTrHzP6SVkzmmF5AiBsOjboSf5nc/UJ7V8SBlMx4aXSPHVjA6zuZOl9ANfRAPw7hzoaZrX3DjclpN8tzoPSy8rCuaPiyOWIvd+Hl0cHEex5pVRYh0skjg67MzQzuAaL6eJQWYpoW/p+pQrJbI7EIySP0j5kpZK0oCROvHyJe1xBV7XlBxK/VVOlVzmXVUkYQeipPaoqMwUQawyarmZ1wr6qMAIEyIOJ3WCXmTMi6l+iCpmaoPMi7tyVz2LqOO5FhcnSw3JQAVmHXYSFm5IjewFz2DU+i+pUuDNDfxNT/KDp5kb+SPpKVrNI2tZ+kAepG6D5dScJ1UnwwvAPN1mD1eQm9N/hxUnUviZ/U5x/4tt7r6DnVrZUGTpeFKiMazRnyePey6nwua1xld4O/9rLUudfdCPcASEGPmpJhux3+0/RXUWBSyOAILBzc4EADz3PcE/dOQdEPUVLu+32EDnCZo4fw4uQ35vedCXfenkj4Waku33Pf3LKRSlurRY9qfUtVnZ380FeIHMTdAT0AewMdtdpI7bEOse64CY5LldGFAoh4diY9j42tYWk3sB1gQRb1sfJMpYdFcI9Emwh7p5ZJiTkBMUbeVmnrP8SR7IPMQoWSZWyEhpOrQbZ+eU9osCbdya1WFxSw9E5oMdhYbWtsW22ISbHxaWndewEtj/UxwTbDqwPGhBbuCNR3oBcG4aip3ExtNyLZibut2X5DZC1fBLDK6SOV8ZcSXZe0m5sbgjw1WkYAui/VAhn4Mhkc1zs9xv1j1/wBd9SjW4OxsjpfidbK2/wCRoGjG9g7+9MC5VSyhB83jjENURUgN6rn9rQ6Q3OvOw6t+5E4DR5I/Fzi39JPV9RYp5xDPA0NdOGmxs27cxvvoltFirZnHIDlH5iLDwF0B0kQOqV1sdkQ6tQc010FEUYKvyBVDuXrSUHUjULUNNkUpI3SyBMWlRMv4RRBpHEu3VQp1ffRc50ANTBok75bOTXE6iwSEzXKA8zpvw1ZznOP5bAeJvf2HukAdcJlgVT0ZIOzraoNa4r1sqANaO1UyYkAgbSTBeRSJOK+6sZiIHNA4dJogaiYXPgUM7FB2pbiWLN0F+71QMZJbKNqAUjkxQaqj/Mig0Ym0srMNqxmPokUFQSPFXUctnFBsGOXTiltLVXAVv8Tc2QFvPVI7jqsnwtjLGRFkjg0sc64Jtpfv77rQPqNFnKvhiKSUydYXN3NBs0nt7R5IPeI5hUQxhhNnytaDtp1gT6ApdWAxUz2sJa0T5L3Nww5SfmtIynbZug6hu3sGhboPAlSoo2OY5paCHauHadNT36D0QJ6biGV1VG4Fwp3Ho2jYOIGpI7b/AHuqcbxCZ08skbiG05aMoJse02Gm51Wio4WdE1uUWbYgW2LTpb0XuHYdHHnFs3SOc5xNrnMToe4XsglRxCG0gmtqWizdiXHQD1Q2EmUNMk8hc92uXZjAeQH1XWP4Q2aDo2nLlILTuOqLAHuWalwaSwE0zngaZQSBbz39EE4vxBrjGAWmxcdTcDQAXQ+HVdojdwcSbaCzR3DQfZXM9LHo1rBptz3+qvq8MLWiw+HcDkgLgaCF6+BLaOqINk0DtEFbY12WL0PXj5EEMaGlKubOhah+qCwTKIQuUQaWOW4VUr7IemnXVS/mgGxBtwlUcKaumB0KEqngBANsVfn00Sp85vorYqy26C2fF3t0uhjjr76j3UrQCEAGIDjjz1X/AJvIUI4heByAx+IPHNUOrXEqguuiaGkL3gBA3pcGlkjzssf9Ox8r6H2VLMwdlcCCNwbg+YW6w2kyRgIx1GyQWexrv1NB9L7IMPFW5dLrqnq7vdbs3WnqeEaZ2zCw9rXEexuPZZzFMMFMOq8EdhFne2h9kDSnrbD6/fei46o8vv7sspHi1/BGRYyBt93QaJ8hI38V4aiwASF2OCyEqMZPPn8kGnfWAAIepxYAHVZafGnO7lQay+58kGrhxcMjF/H11VVBjmZxPJZaWrLlIpXDY2++9BsKvGgOaR1uNF5s0JZcu3JKNhiACBrgVKM2d+ruXYO/xTiFoJcDzSjD5bBMKaXrFAhxij6KS42KsgqtE1xyEOjus3SuQGunXD51U5VuKC1stlxJJdVkqpz0FuZRU9IogJbUkFEmrJCiiBXPXkFUS1hKiiDyJ6kuqiiCl8h2VZXiiDlRRRB01q2XB+Hg9YqKINeWq1gUUQLsYxQRMK+eV9e6ZxJOi8UQDtapM4jmoog5jed1sOG6KKSO7o2F3aWgn3UUQEYlhTR8IAHcAPkkFRRgclFEADolwQoogviNkR0iiiAylkTKleoogtrJLxlZKKazj4qKICC9VPlUUQR0uiH6ReqIOTKvVFEH/9k=" 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" /></a></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-74950460786201086772012-11-17T21:56:00.001+05:302012-11-17T22:04:04.588+05:30Down The Memory Lane<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Going down the memory lane,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>It all gushes back.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The books tucked behind the shelves,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Hidden, saved from the accusing eyes.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The hours spent with the dishes,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>A spoon in hand. No pen.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The wolfish stares of a hundred men.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The hands of society, always holding back.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The chains I fought so hard to break,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Changing shapes with changing time-</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The father, the husband and now the son.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The tears – bitter, but never ever weak.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The battles fought for a good chance in life.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The walls, the hurdles, big and small.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>But down the memory lane,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Some things do not change –</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The smile that does not waver,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The hands that do not shake,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The spirit that cannot be dampened,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The soul that will not be crushed.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Then, now and tomorrow, my voice remains,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I am a woman and proud to be.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<img src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTJeRTDo7kFMILDExe7LNOtkg9HdLGkrh_zM37ebp-dq4dajLov" /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-63216512446040662082012-10-27T23:41:00.000+05:302012-10-27T23:42:57.005+05:30Hanna's Awful Day<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Hanna’s jaw almost touched the floor.</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Seriously, she felt like she had entered an alien world –
somewhere far away from this Earth. </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Firstly, there were these overwhelming scents – some
sickeningly sweet, others mild and tempting. But when they rushed up her nose
altogether, she felt like her insides were burning.</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Actually, it’s all mother’s fault. How could she bring an 8
year old innocent girl into this awful place? What did she call it..a salon?
Ugh! It’s not like Hanna cared.</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Even if you try to ignore the fact that you could smell
everything from roses to papayas in one breath (which she most definitely could
not ignore), the place was still dumb. And Hanna had her reasons to say so.</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">She had turned right and frightened to death by a lady who
had something like an Opera House built out of her hair. “That's quite a nice set of rollers you’ve got
there!”, another woman was telling her. Personally, Hanna disagreed. But she
didn’t dare say that aloud. God forbid, what if they rolled her hair into a Taj
Mahal or something? No no!</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">When she turned left, she saw some – women? Or were they BTs
or ETs or whatever-you-call-people-with-green-mucky-skin? Then she saw
something even more disgusting - bowls and bowls of green goo were kept on stools. Some ladies,
wearing something like mom’s cooking apron, were actually APPLYING this on
those women’s skin. Eeeeew! God forbid, what if these appliers did it to little
clueless girls too?? No no!</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Forget smells. Forget the crazy hair-do. Forget even the green
goo.</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">But the place had a torture chamber! Yes, you got it right –
a torture chamber!</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Hanna didn’t believe it at first. But surely, she didn’t
just imagine those “aaarggh”s n “ouch”s.
There was a chamber separated from the main room by a pair of thick curtains. From the sounds coming from within, Hanna
could imagine the horrors awaiting beyond those curtains. She saw a woman
carrying some hot liquid inside. But she didn’t dare stick around or talk to
that woman. God forbid, what if a pair of hands caught hold of her frock and
pulled her in? No no!</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">There were machines that puffed smoke.</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">There were plastic orbs that descended from the ceiling and
engulfed women’s heads. </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">There were an assortment of scissors and other pointed steel
weapons.</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">I ask you, is this the kind of place for a cute little innocent
clueless helpless girl? Is it?</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <a href="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQhuhaHnqYeFPPV_hNQJOPiBcxXLw-T2Jn8K5bYgxIQ2Ccj9GcnUA" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQhuhaHnqYeFPPV_hNQJOPiBcxXLw-T2Jn8K5bYgxIQ2Ccj9GcnUA" /></a></span></b></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-7547135465531920952012-09-07T16:45:00.000+05:302012-09-29T20:01:44.351+05:30Moving Out<b id="internal-source-marker_0.4639422385953367"><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She stared around her room, wondering where to start from. 2 cup-boards, 2 book shelves, a table – she had to sort out the stuff inside all these before they moved into the new apartment.</span></span></b><br />
<div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She decided to tackle the biggest challenge first - the cup-board. </span></span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She pulled all the clothes down onto the floor and picked up one by one, folded them and started organising them into cartons. </span></span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She dreaded any kind of arranging and cleaning. Just a waste of time! But this time she agreed on packing her stuff cuz she didn’t trust anybody else with her personal things. She liked her privacy.</span></span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Deep inside her mind, she felt miserable. And it had nothing to do with packing. She felt miserable because she was leaving this place – her room, her home – soon. </span></span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Well, she thought, no point in getting all teary-eyed now. Better concentrate on the work at hand. That's when she noticed what she was holding – her favourite black n red tank top. She had worn the very same top during her IT Quiz finals. And during many other quiz competitions, so to speak. It was her lucky charm. She was unbeatable if she had it on. And she remembered mom’s orders – “ throw away anything that’s old and used up. Take only necessary items into the new apartment”. Yes, the thing was obviously old. But how could she throw away her lucky charm?</span></span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She decided to tuck it into some corner of the carton and continued her “sorting-out” job. She came across the red skirt she had worn when she met </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">him</span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> for the first time. And there was the purple pull-on, a gift from grand dad just 2 weeks before he died. And the black shrug – the tantrums she had throw to get her hands on that last year! And her denim jacket, she thought she had lost it. The more garments she pulled out, more special moments and memories flashed in her mind. Never ever in her life did she think that folding clothes could get this emotional!</span></span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Enough is enough. </span></span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She moved on to her book shelves. The real nightmare, she knew, were the stacks of paper “adorning” a whole shelf. Carefully, she lifted a stack onto her lap and examined the papers one by one. Most were just rubbish, stuff that had accumulated just because she was too lazy to carry them into the garbage bag outdoors. Still, in many of the stacks there were things that caught her attention. </span></span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Like the notes she and her friends had passed back and forth during classes. She remembered with a laugh the times they had been caught in the act.</span></span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Then there were her revision notes which comprised mostly of names of singers and authors or her favourite book quotes rather than what she was actually supposed to revise. </span></span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There were friendship cards and birthday cards given by her friends. There were dozens of maps and outlines and she remembered her horrifying map-drawing assignments with a smile. There were incomplete projects, picture charts, question papers, answer sheets, impositions sheets and song lyrics. And each of them had a story of its own.</span></span></b></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></span>
<div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.29764585802331567"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She picked up books and started piling them in cartons. There were books she had forgotten about. She was surprised that she had actually read some of those kids stuff. She saw the GK books that had saved her throughout her quizzing. And then, there were the classics – she always took the longest time to read those. Many of them were gifts from her friends and family, and she remembered the numerous occasions. Definitely, she was NOT going to leave even a single book behind. She could not resist the urge to flip through their pages and skim through some of them. In her mind, she saw her transition from a little girl who loved </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Goldilocks and The Three Bears </span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">to the young woman who enjoyed </span><span style="font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A Thousand Splendid Suns. </span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She had come a long way..</span></span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On the table, there were her school books. And they were arranged neatly. Ofcoz, she wasn’t surprised. Only things that were used got disarranged. </span></span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After keeping the last book into the carton, she stood back and gazed around. </span></span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
<div>
<a href="https://encrypted-tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR7zKCVBMb3CFOEg-N9zvnJd3ixUnTJOEfWzb43Tw5WC0Amxqs8Kg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR7zKCVBMb3CFOEg-N9zvnJd3ixUnTJOEfWzb43Tw5WC0Amxqs8Kg" /></a><b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The shelves were bare, the cupboards were empty and her table and bed didn’t have the usual litter on it.</span></span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It dawned on her that she would never walk around this room again, mugging on the eve of exams.</span></span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She realised that she would never have a pillow fight with her brother on this bed again.</span></span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She realised that she wouldn’t dance around in this room again, singing her favourite songs.</span></span></b></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She realised that she would never look </span></b><b id="internal-source-marker_0.29764585802331567"><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">in the mirror on the wall again and curse her pimples or exclaim her long lashes.</span></b></span></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.29764585802331567"><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She realised that she would never again be able to stand in the balcony and cry after a fight with her parents. </span></span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Her safe haven did not belong to her anymore.</span></span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br /><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With a single tear running down her cheek, she realised that she hadn’t only packed up her things, but she had relived those unique and special moments in her life. She had gone on an emotional roller-coaster ride of memories.</span></span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">She knew that she wasn't just leaving her old home. She was leaving a big and irreplaceable</span><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> part of her life.</span></span></b></div>
<div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yes, she will miss this place badly.</span></span></b></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-43471083448702140212012-08-30T14:02:00.000+05:302012-09-04T17:16:12.577+05:30Best Friends<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>How dare she! Seriously, what does she think of herself?</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>She calls herself my best friend and keeps stuff from me?
And her dumb excuses – “I forgot..”, “I didn’t have time..”. Blah blah blah.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>How much longer does she expect me to adjust with her odd
ways? </b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I stand through her crying and mood swings. I stand through
all her tantrums and short temper. In return, she “forgets” to tell me about
her conversation with her crush.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>She is such an airhead. </b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I think what my mom says is right. She is just JEALOUS. Yup,
my best friend is jealous of me. She envies me. Yup yup yup. Otherwise why
would she behave in all these crazy ways? </b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I think she thinks that he thinks I’m better than her. Why
else would she avoid – deliberately avoid-
conversations about their last meeting? Definitely not how best friends
should behave.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Wait until I get to school. I’ll show her where she belongs.
I’m honestly done with this adjustment.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>My school bus comes and I get in. Others stare at me because
I have a VERY angry face right now. Ofcoz I do! Today I’m gonna end my
friendship with that silly supposed best friend of mine. I have every right to
be angry.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I sit down in my usual seat near the window. I just hope she comes to school
today. I need to get over with this today itself. I cannot bear this tension
any longer.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I start constructing some come-back lines for the argument
I’m gonna have with her today. She’s such a big drama queen. I cannot afford to
stammer for responses.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Finally the bus reaches the school.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I see her standing across the ground, under the tree – our
usual meeting place.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>She smiles, showing all her 32 teeth. Oh no, not 32.
Teenagers have only 28. But that's NOT the point! </b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Her smile is so sickening.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I scowl at her. I’m scowling hard as I cross the ground. </b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>She is running towards me. Why on earth, I don’t know. I
repeat my arguments in my head once again. I’m not gonna waste one minute.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I stop walking as she comes nearer. I close my fists and wait for her to come
closer so that I can scream her ears off. Middle of the school playground is a
nice place to fight.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>And then she shouts – “Federer’s world no.1 AGAIN!!!”.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Uh-oh.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>And then I scream.</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>“Freeeeeaaakkkiiiiinngggggg.......AWESOME.”</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>And then...we hug.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiXbJ-vIQHG0zC9Yituc-QevNk5hTWq-7y9eJqHsiHrhP9mq6IN8tzSQwk1rkCJTgGayY4DFTUlg81QbY6f37d3_buySmcysKg-EWY-RiCCuP6SEM8cfCcyd72k192VXsSLQejL9eFdBI/s1600/best+friend.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiXbJ-vIQHG0zC9Yituc-QevNk5hTWq-7y9eJqHsiHrhP9mq6IN8tzSQwk1rkCJTgGayY4DFTUlg81QbY6f37d3_buySmcysKg-EWY-RiCCuP6SEM8cfCcyd72k192VXsSLQejL9eFdBI/s1600/best+friend.jpg" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-90432911487946691132012-07-28T22:46:00.002+05:302012-08-10T12:01:21.519+05:30Those Days<b> <i>Recently, an English versification competition was conducted in my school. The topic was 'Those Days'. So, this is what I came up with during the 2 hrs.</i>
</b><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
<i><b><br /></b></i>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I remember those days </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>When I was young, full of life.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>My beauty and wealth</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="background-color: white;">Mesmerized</span> minds.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I remember those days</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>When I was the inspiration.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I was wanted and loved.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I was tended and preserved.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I remember those days</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Before I greyed,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Before my blood was drained,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Before my wealth was plundered.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Now they suffocate me,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Now they exploit me.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Now they kill their brothers, </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>And trample me underfoot.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>They conquer, they misuse.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>They build, they destroy.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>And I, Mother Earth,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Still remember those days!</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://seeker401.files.wordpress.com/2010/04/mother-earth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" height="200" src="http://seeker401.files.wordpress.com/2010/04/mother-earth.jpg" width="153" /></b></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-52729769521292981972012-07-09T18:41:00.000+05:302012-08-10T12:20:31.602+05:30Rules<b><br /></b>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Big or small, Ryan
broke all kinds of rules. He laughed heartily throughout his punishments for
rule-breaking.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Little Ryan
and Joe were playing in the garden. That's when papa called the boys out for a
ride in their old Chevy.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">“yippee..Papa,
you’re the best!”. Joe was grinning ear to ear. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">But Ryan
was shaking his head frantically. “No way papa! Don’t both of you remember
mama’s rule? Joe and I aren’t supposed to ride in the truck. It’s almost in
pieces..”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">“Oh man,
you’re such a big spoil sport..rules are meant to be broken! And it’s not like
we are going for some long drive. It’s just a few blocks to the mines. We’ll
walk back..” Joe glared at his brother.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">“C’mon Ryan,
you know how much I enjoy riding with you guys. I’m sure your mama won’t mind
for this once.” Papa’s voice was hopeful. “I’ll buy you ice creams!”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">But nothing
could convince Ryan to back away from obeying rules. “Rules are rules. I’ll
never do ANYTHING against rules. But you guys can go on if you like. I won’t
tell mom.” With that, Ryan stormed into
the house.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">“Don’t
bother about him papa. He’s an idiot. Let’s go..”. Joe happily climbed into the truck.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Papa’s eyes
followed Ryan with anticipation . <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Ryan
disappeared into the house, leaving nothing but a trail of summer dust.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">With a
sigh, papa climbed into the driving seat.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Breaking rules
filled Ryan’s mind with immense satisfaction and joy. “What's the fun in living
your life according to petty rules, but not your own will? Break the rules
guys!”, Ryan told everyone.<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">At night,
the city alarms blared.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">People,
still in their night clothes and eyes red with sleep, poked their head out of
every window.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But Ryan
didn’t bother. He slept on with his head under the pillow.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After a
while, the ringing stopped.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Breaking rules made him feel like he was in
charge. His life, his decisions. And these decisions were always outside the
line. Rules..bah..they trample your life.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ryan woke
up the next day to find the house crowded. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">All kinds
of people had gathered there. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ryan didn’t
understand anything. He desperately searched the room for mama and Joe. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">They were
nowhere to be seen.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He glanced
questioningly at the crowd. Nobody seemed to notice that a boy here didn’t know
what was going on.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After a
while, someone thrust a newspaper into his hand.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The first
thing he noticed was papa’s photo. Wow, he thought.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Then he
read the news – Accident in Coal Mines. 9 dead.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the age of 20,
he had uncountable police cases for major rule breaking. He considered it to be
his biggest achievement.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It had been
papa’s last day of life. And Ryan had turned his back on papa for the sake of obeying rules.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br />
<br />
<br />
</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-8739873025076033982012-06-19T09:38:00.004+05:302012-08-10T12:08:00.779+05:30The Enemy<b><br /></b>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><b>The light from the lone streetlight,
entering through the window, cast giant shadows on my bedroom wall.</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I curled up under my blanket, staring out
into the night.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>That’s when I saw him – The Enemy.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I did all I could to gobble the scream that
was erupting from my throat. </b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Suddenly, I felt like all my systems have paralyzed. </b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>My instincts screamed at me to run out of
the room, get out of the house and get help. </b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>But no, how can I appear weak in front of
him?</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>He stared at me with those creepy
emotionless eyes.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Drops of perspiration trickled down my
face.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I’ve heard that human mind is the fastest traveler.
Today, I seemed to prove it as my mind went over the times I had encountered
him and ran away screaming. I remember how he would follow me, always faster
than me.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>No, I didn’t stand a chance if it came to
running.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I wanted to shut my eyes and pretend to be
asleep. But that wouldn’t do much good. He already knows that I’m awake.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Moreover, I’ll be as silly as the stupid
cats who think nobody sees them if their eyes are shut.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>No, I WILL NOT appear weak and afraid.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>And the past encounters have left me with a
strong belief that he can smell my fear.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I looked him directly in the eye. I hope he
got the message that I’m braver than he thought.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>He made his first move.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>He got in through the open window.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>In a matter of seconds he’ll attack me.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I had only this matter of seconds to save
my life.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I racked my brains for something, anything
that would get me out of here in one piece.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Then it hit me.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Yes, the enemy is afraid of light.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I stood up, gathering all my courage.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>The first thing in a battle is to NOT turn
your back at your enemy. But today I have no choice.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I turned around, reaching for the
switchboard.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>It funny how I never get what I want when I’m
in a hurry. I turned on all the switches.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>The tube light and the bulb flickered to
life together.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Yes, yes, yes! I did it.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I looked back to see my enemy take off
through the window.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I almost cried with relief.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>All those years in biology class paid off.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b> I was
right, cockroaches run away from bright light.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-49484315663475290362012-05-22T16:59:00.001+05:302012-08-10T12:08:32.330+05:30Big Brother<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>He was 9 yrs old when she was born. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>It was his summer holidays.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>The moment he set eyes on the adorable baby, he decided that
he would let nothing –absolutely nothing in the world - get in the way of his
little cousin sister’s happiness. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>He never left her side. He wouldn’t let even a teeny-weeny
ant get near her.</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>Many-a-time, he threw tantrums to sleep in the baby’s room.
He dreamt her innocent eyes and toothless grin.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>He couldn’t express his happiness. But what really surprised
him was that new weird feeling. Was it...responsibility? Well, big brothers
were supposed to feel that way, weren’t they?<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>He couldn’t stop crying the day had to leave her and go back
to his parents for the school year.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>*******<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>He saw her again after 3 years, on her 3<sup>rd</sup>
birthday.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>He couldn’t suppress his amazement.
She could run and talk now! <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>He played with her, tickled her,
pulled her hair. And every time he did, she laughed, laughed and laughed.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>One day, she fell down. The sight
of her bleeding forehead almost made him cry. The cut was so deep. But no, big
brothers console little sisters. They aren’t supposed to cry.</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>He held her hand while her mother
cleaned her wound. He made funny faces to make her laugh, while the doctor
stitched her wound.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>That day, he promised her that he
would protect her for the rest of her life.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 354.75pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 354.75pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>********<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 354.75pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 354.75pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>It was her 13<sup>th</sup>
birthday. She couldn’t control her excitement. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>Her big brother was coming today.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>She hadn’t seen him for years. Last
time they met was 2 yrs ago, during their cousin’s wedding. But all their
meetings were so brief and hasty.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="line-height: 115%;">Brother was older, so he had really
complicated stuff to study in school, and now, in college. That had kept them
apart for so long.</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> But today, he was coming to see her, after completing his
college education.</span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>She couldn’t contain her happiness.
<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>She remembered all those times when
she used to be jealous when she saw girls of her age with their big brothers.
But she needn’t worry anymore. From this very day, it was their turn to be
jealous.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>Like she did every time she thought
of her big brother, she ran her hand over the scar on her forehead. She had
heard stories from granny about how he had felt worse than her when he saw her
wound. Of course she couldn’t remember anything properly. But the stories were
enough proof of her brother’s love</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>When the doorbell rang, she ran to
the door. She would be the one to receive her brother. </b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>She imagined his face
with a big grin. He would definitely give her a bear hug, for which she would
be prepared. And what gift was he going to give her? Most probably something
really cool, like a book or an mp3 player.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>She almost banged into the door and
yanked it open. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>There he was, with luggage and all.
<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>She waited for him to cry out with
joy. Oh boy, and then she would hug him.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>But instead of the “you’ve grown so
much!” she was expecting, a “move please” rang in her ears.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>She stood aside, stunned, as he
walked in with the luggage. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>He glanced at her and smiled.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>That one smile spoke the unspoken. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><b>She was looking at a stranger.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipsOxRRp7YFJO2UOlcynEOLBxssBMEHdnXs_Ggeuh9OAZeZEMTO8c-Fxc338napGim-HUIfS4RL5sPhhcpsO2ZW1EsiM5qMbagfOaN35PoWVkAS51fYcGIctioWp2RMBhnYbnwhRFlQx8/s1600/man+door.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipsOxRRp7YFJO2UOlcynEOLBxssBMEHdnXs_Ggeuh9OAZeZEMTO8c-Fxc338napGim-HUIfS4RL5sPhhcpsO2ZW1EsiM5qMbagfOaN35PoWVkAS51fYcGIctioWp2RMBhnYbnwhRFlQx8/s200/man+door.jpg" width="200" /></b></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-73303122103403623172012-05-16T14:52:00.004+05:302012-08-10T12:08:36.963+05:30Words<b><br /></b>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Words, powerful things<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Some may inspire, <o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Others trample.<o:p></o:p></b></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Words, weird things<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Do they mean what they say?<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>You never know.<o:p></o:p></b></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Words, strange things<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>They fail us when happy<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>They fail us when sad.<o:p></o:p></b></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Words, tricky things<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Sometimes they clear<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Sometimes confuse<o:p></o:p></b></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Words, relentless things<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>They make life easy<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>They make life hard<o:p></o:p></b></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Words, endless things<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Life depends on them,<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>The ones you say & the ones
you don’t.</b></span><span style="font-family: Andalus; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-63315525276316850942012-03-31T17:31:00.002+05:302012-08-10T12:09:41.185+05:30Megha<b><br /></b>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b>May her soul rest in
peace…<o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The words reverberated in the granite floored living room. A
small crowd of people, young and old, some dressed in traditionals, others in
modern outfits had gathered there for Megha’s funeral. Only one common factor
connected this odd assortment of people – the empty look in their eyes..</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>There was nothing dramatic about the day. It was not
raining. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>There were no grey clouds hanging above. But the dense
clouds of despair and loss clung to the house..</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>His wife’s memories haunted Suraj.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The smell of her coffee…her childish laugh...the lullabies
she sung for little Rohan...the aching in his heart was growing stronger with
every thought.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b>It was x’mas eve.
Suraj went out for a stroll into the silent and cold night. He walked until he
reached his favorite place to hang out at night – <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Vrindavan</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Park</st1:placetype></st1:place>.
He took his usual spot on one of the benches and gazed at the inky black sky
dotted with stars. Around him, about a dozen homeless children were in the
intense cold, without even a piece of cloth to cover them. <o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b>Then he saw her..<o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b>She was walking
towards the kids, pushing a scooty. A humongous parcel was popped up on the
seat. She parked her scooty a few feet away from the kids and started opening
the parcel. Inside, Suraj saw some blankets. Slowly, one by one, she covered
the kids with blankets, careful they didn’t wake up. Once she was done, she
smiled, took her scooty and walked away..<o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b>She hadn’t seen Suraj.
But Suraj had just found out a big truth – angels existed..<o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>******<o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Even though he hated admitting it, Mr.Mehta felt like he
lost more than just a dedicated employee.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b>“I need you to report
back in office right now” Mr.Mehta growled over the phone. His face was red
with rage. <o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b>“But sir, I already
told you, its sports day in Rohan’s pre-school. I need to be with him”, Megha’s
voice was calm.<o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b>“Right! It’s just some
stupid lemon & spoon race in a dumb pre-school. Your son isn’t running in
the Olympic finals, for god’s sake. So just come here and complete your
assignment right now.” Mr.Mehta was almost shouting. This time, megha’s reply
was firm “Sir, for me, every single event in my son’s life is as big as an
Olympics final. As for the assignment you’re talking about, I was awake the
whole of last night completing it. If you would open your drawer, you can find
the papers there. Also, if you had looked at your table, you would’ve seen my
note. And sir, with all due respect, please do not question my dedication to
work and my love for my family. Goodbye sir!” and she hung up.<o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b>Mr.Mehta couldn’t
believe that a mere employee just hung up on him. No, not a mere employee. He
had to admit that Megha was the most competent official in his firm. He
couldn’t forget the awards she had won his firm. Looking at the table, he saw
Megha’s note. <o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b>On a second thought,
it actually was his fault. Megha had never let him down. He shouldn’t have been
so harsh with her. Oh well, he thought, never mind, next morning Megha would be
back next morning with her ever-so-cheerful smile. Of her many qualities Megha
possessed, the one he admired the most was her ability to forgive and forget so
easily.<o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>He couldn’t imagine his office without Megha. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The way she insisted that everyone should have a flower vase
on their desk…the way she convinced clients into making profitable deals with
the firm…her dedication…her spirit…Mr.Mehta felt like his office was about to
be hurled down a dark hole.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>******</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Meera felt something hot and wet on her cheeks. She realized
they were tears. For once, she dint care about ruining her make-up. Megha, her
best friend was gone. How could someone so full of life be dead? She couldn’t
believe it.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b>It was a humid summer
night. Meera couldn’t sleep. Her parents were always fighting each other and
she didn’t know what to do. She felt like her life had suddenly transformed
into hell. The only ray of hope she had was Megha. Megha always had solutions,
let it be silly math equations or bigger problems of life. Meera dialed her
best friend’s number.<o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b>“hey Meera, wassup at
this late hour?”, Megha’s voice was cheerful. <o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b>“um..I’m I disturbing
Megha? I need to talk..”. Meera hesitated.<o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b>“hello ma’m, since
when did we start getting formal? Cut it out and tell me what’s wrong.”<o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b>Meera couldn’t hold it
anymore. She started crying. Between sobs, she spilled out her mind infront of
Megha. As usual, Megha had a solution.<o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b>“meera, first of all
get a grip on yourself. Now think. Even if your parents have their differences,
they have a very big common ground – you! Make them realize it and they’ll
definitely get over their problems.”<o:p></o:p></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b>Meera followed this
advice and gradually everything turned out well and happy. When she thanked her
best friend, Megha laughed. “Well, you made it happen and you’re thanking me?
You proved that you’re the best daughter on earth. Isn’t that a reason to
celebrate?”<o:p></o:p></b></i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Megha had this uncanny ability of solving problems and
finally making you feel like you did it all by yourself. Meera sighed. She had
lost an irreplaceable part of her life. The late night gossiping..exchanging
beauty tips and recipes..holdin hands and crying in front of movie
screen..laughing at silly jokes till their stomach ached..</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Meera felt like a hole was opening in her heart..</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>******</b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Memories cluttered the living room air. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>While an old couple remembered how Megha used to help them
carry their shopping bags, a little boy remembered how she had fixed his kite.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>A kitten meowed, searching for the hand that affectionately
tickled its stomach and poured milk into it's bowl..</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>But like diamond in charcoal, Rohan’s happy face stood out.
Ofcourse, he had reason to be happy. He had cleverly pulled down mom’s sari
from the cupboard and had been playing with it ever since. And to his surprise,
no one had scolded him! Boy, wasn’t that happy news?</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Just then, he seemed to notice his mother’s absence. Slowly,
realization dawned on his face. He grinned even wider.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>“Mom hiding! Rohan find mom..yaya.. Rohan like hide and
seek!!”</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Clapping his hands, he ran around, searching for a mom he
would never find.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2sYdYoYKnj9gIMVOjMcvlDF0crXG3t0whUHlHinhJXYu9orSiP0EmGvnL0OJQnwNvmMxQCr68BH0s4I-OhJVvr0ZchMIouyJLAWA0CDxwr0_OgTUlc0EzkPUSIjjMHtgXFgtaFt_qknk/s1600/megha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2sYdYoYKnj9gIMVOjMcvlDF0crXG3t0whUHlHinhJXYu9orSiP0EmGvnL0OJQnwNvmMxQCr68BH0s4I-OhJVvr0ZchMIouyJLAWA0CDxwr0_OgTUlc0EzkPUSIjjMHtgXFgtaFt_qknk/s200/megha.jpg" width="134" /></b></a></div>
<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-4200364841969930592012-02-13T00:02:00.000+05:302012-08-10T12:09:56.418+05:30Dream Ever, Fear Never..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b><br /></b>
<b>She wasn't much of a writer. She preferred reading. A reading room was her safe haven. But she had these strange impulses on days, when she would just sit with a book and pen, to write. Initially, writing was her way of spilling out emotions. She wrote about what she'd gone through...she wrote about herself. She saw herself being calmed down by the outflow of words. She stacked up poems and write ups. But it was her little secret. It took her a long time to let her works out of their cocoon.</b><br />
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<b>And one fine day, she posted them on Facebook. Not for any particular reason, but like the title of a show goes - <i>Just for fun..</i></b><br />
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<b>She was overwhelmed by the response she got. People patted her on the back and spoke in encouragement. Comments and likes increased in number.</b><br />
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<i><b>You can definitely do well. Just give it a try..let it out girl.. </b></i><br />
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<b>Her mother's words became her motive.</b><br />
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<b>That's how she started blogging. Every time there was a comment or somebody started following her blog, there was a big smile on her face. It gave her energy to come up with more and more creative products of thought. She started taking writing seriously. She started thinking differently and kicked up her observation skills. Slowly, without her realizing, writing became her way of expressing herself. Everytime something interesting happened in her life, she found herself trying to develop it into something for her blog. As time passed, she drew inspiration from things around her, rather than just herself. She never bothered about the page-views or her blog stats. She never took the number of follows as a measurement of her creativity.She saw criticism as a proof for the higher level her works had taken.</b><br />
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<i><b>Give the world the best you have, and the best will come back to you..</b></i><br />
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<b>She believed in herself and stuck to those words.</b><br />
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<b>And the best did come back to her. She got heartwarming responses from readers, strangers and acquaintances alike. The first poem on her blog was re-posted on a website by a follower and feedback from around the world came to her mailbox. And these responses kept her going. Her words got wings..</b><br />
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<b>Now, writing soothes her as much as music. It gives her immense satisfaction and a sense of being. Reading changed it's role from a safe haven into a door to improved and better writing. She saw her writing shed it's childish veil and grow into something better. Blogosphere became a world on it's own for her, a place where she could present her ideas as well as learn from the innovations of several others.</b><br />
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<b>And she always said,</b><br />
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<i><b>Dream Ever, Fear Never...</b></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>It's 13th Feb 2012, a year since I started blogging. Looking back, I think it came out pretty well, 13 being unlucky n all! </i>:)</b></span><br />
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<i><br /></i></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com5Kerala, India10.5143884 76.64127128.5164733999999989 74.114415700000009 12.5123034 79.1681267tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-59775188358866317402012-01-23T20:11:00.003+05:302012-08-10T12:10:46.895+05:30The Unknown Romance<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Cameras clicked everywhere. One of the greatest weddings of all time was about to be announced. The multibillionaire giants Lesley’s Corp and McDor’s Ltd were uniting with the marriage of their heirs Phillip Lesley and Angela McDor.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Every inch of the party hall was covered in fancy expensive decorations. Golden ribbons, white daisies and tulips were everywhere. Guests including the richest members of the society were busy adjusting their bows and hats. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>But Phil wasn’t interested in the bliss of glamour and luxury around him.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>His hands moved towards his most valuable possession – a piece of paper safely tucked away in the pocket of his silk coat. Phil’s eyes craved for one more look at it before Arthur Lesley announced his son’s fate in front of the whole world. He took it out…<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Love doesn’t ask why…</i><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>The Celine Dion lyrics were written out in a beautiful curly writing. He felt himself slipping away from his reality to that night…<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>It was just another normal day for those at the Bluebird Karaoke Club. But for Phil, it was one of the best days of his life – an escape from the formality of the society gathering and toasts to the normalcy of a young man’s life that would never be his. Away from the showy satin and silk, he felt himself relax in a pair of borrowed casuals. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>This is what he wanted – a night in a karaoke club far away from his reality. Here he wasn’t obliged to follow any norms or etiquette of social life. He could act like he was just another guy enjoying the night at a club.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>“Yo! Who’s coming up for the next song?” The DJ’s voice boomed into the mike. A dozen hands shot up among the audience. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>“The blonde there…come up gal.” The DJ flashed a brilliant grin as the slender figure of a girl in a beige dress rose from a seat, several rows in front of Phil. Phil’s gaze followed as she walked gracefully towards the dais. His mind was swept away by her volume of waist long corn silk hair. Phil caught his breath as the girl turned to face the audience.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>“Love doesn’t ask why…It speaks from the heart…and never explains…”<o:p></o:p></b></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Her voice was the sweetest sound Phil had ever heard. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>“Don’t you know that love doesn’t think twice…it can come all at once or whisper from a distance…”<o:p></o:p></b></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>The table fan on her right blew her perfume towards Phil, along with the lyrics sheet she was holding. It fell near his feet. Taking off his eyes from her for the first time since he set it there, he bent down to pick the paper. When he straightened, he found himself facing the girl’s angelic face.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Her sea green eyes locked his gaze. He felt like the world around them had suddenly stopped and it was just the two of them. He stretched his hand forward, holding out the paper to her.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>She looked at it and hesitated.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>“Keep it”, she said and ran away, leaving Phil alone in the crowd.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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The blinding camera flashes brought Phil’s present crashing back on him. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Had he not been chained by wealth and status, he would’ve sought her out and kept his life on her feet. But no! The stars weren’t on his side.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>He hadn’t bothered to argue with his father. Why should he? What difference would it make? It’s not as if his pleas would win against his father’s decision. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>He crumpled the paper in his hands and put on his well practiced flashy smile for the paparazzi. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Behind Phil, the guests turned their heads to see Angela McDor walk gracefully into the party hall.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Angela adjusted her hair and made sure her bow wasn’t crooked. But her thoughts did not stay. They darted back to that night – a precious memory she had treasured in her heart….<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Angela sneaked out of a kitty party to breathe some happy air in a karaoke club. Music was her passion. But all she got were operas by some high and mighty artist, staged personally for her in the McDors’ private theatre. What good was that?<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>She felt her heart soar when the DJ picked her for the next song. Finally, she would be able to get the taste of a normal life, away from the diamonds and glitter. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>She closed her eyes and sang from her heart…<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>She was so lost in the song that she realized her lyrics sheet was not in her hands anymore only when she saw it land near a man’s feet. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>While he bent down to take it, she walked towards him.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Angela was under the impression that she wasn’t one of those girls who went oogly-woogly in front of good looking guys. But when she saw the guy in front of her, all she could do was stare. She felt drawn towards the warm sparkle in his eyes…<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>He stretched out the paper for her to take. She glanced at it and noticed the time on his wrist watch. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>God! She was late! The party would’ve finished by now and people would’ve started noticing her absence. She had to go…<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>“Keep it”, she said and ran away.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>What if she had stayed that night? Angela couldn’t shake off the uneasiness gripping her heart. In a matter of minutes, her father was about to announce her marriage with an unknown Ritchie Rich. But the memories of the young man at the club would always haunt her. It would remain the biggest “what if?” of her life….<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Cameras clicked everywhere. One of the greatest weddings of all time was about to be announced.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-22046008520305836942012-01-14T12:53:00.004+05:302012-08-10T12:10:54.748+05:30The Friend<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>She curled once again on me that night. The girl was crying again. Looks like she had yet another fight with her parents. Or maybe it was one of those days when she missed her lost love. Well, that’s how all these teenage girls are…</b><br />
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<b>But I would never complain. How could I, after all those years we’ve spent together? I fondled her when she was young – a naughty baby who would never lay still. I have seen her grow up from that little girl to a mature almost-woman.</b><br />
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<b>She complained to me whenever she was angry and I always heard all of it without a single interruption. I never asked her to shut up, when many other did. I was the first one to know of her first crush – the cute nerd from her school. Every single time, I heard the very first exclusive versions of the short stories and poems she wrote. She sang her favorite tunes to me. I can very proudly say that nobody knows her as much as I do.</b><br />
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<b>She kicks me, punches me, wets me with her tears. But I was always there the next time she wanted someone to talk to. Every night, she opened up to me about her worries and told me about her life.</b><br />
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<b>When she returned from a journey, she always rambled on about how much she missed me. And I always loved hearing those long talks.</b><br />
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<b>Sometimes she throws books or clothes at me, maybe even her 10 kg school bag. But you know, I love her so much that I cannot get angry at her. A new sheet and a pillow are more than enough to make my day. After all....I’m just a bed! <span style="font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></b></div>
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-77684704564816862812012-01-03T21:10:00.002+05:302012-08-10T12:11:05.084+05:30The Silver Ribbon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F2aLl7g_Kxg/TwMjh8sPUKI/AAAAAAAAANI/2OCBZGXs5N0/s1600/Silver-ribbon1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F2aLl7g_Kxg/TwMjh8sPUKI/AAAAAAAAANI/2OCBZGXs5N0/s320/Silver-ribbon1.jpg" width="180" /></b></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b> There it was again – the sparkling silver ribbon. It had come to me in my dreams first. Random as my dreams always were, I used to see myself chasing it. The scenes would be different every time. I had chased it through breathtaking valleys and under the sea. Even in total darkness, I’d followed its luminescence, reaching out to touch it.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b> Then it started to appear in real life. I saw it first when I was 13. I’d just fought with my mom over another silly reason. I was cursing the whole world, when it appeared from a tiny spark. As if in a trance I had reached out, forgetting my anger and grief. But it just flew higher, leaving a trail of silvery sparks. I would laugh out, feeling like a toddler chasing a firefly. It always made me forget my worries. After that night, it appeared again and again. Sometimes at night when I would be having one of my long thinking sessions. Sometimes in the park, when I would be looking at the magnificent cloud patters in the sky. Even in libraries, where I would have a book kept open just for the sake of it. It came to me when I was alone and it came to me in the middle of crowds. But every time it appeared, it filled me with a feeling of deep satisfaction. It was my safe haven, my closest friend. I had even started talking to it. Others might think I’m nutters, but I believe it replied to me with tiny sparks or another curve of the ribbon. We communicated in our own indefinable language.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Like many other factors, it did not leave me when </span>circumstances<span style="font-family: inherit;"> changed. It was still there when I was 30. It sparkled with the same glow when I was 70. But it never let my fingers feel its smooth surface. Whenever I got near, it flew away, as if to say it wasn’t the right time yet. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Today, at 86, lying on the hospital bed surrounded by beeping machines, I saw it again. It had the same warm glow. For the 1</span><sup style="font-family: inherit;">st</sup><span style="font-family: inherit;"> time in days, I felt strong. I reached out to my old friend. But this time it did not fly away. At that moment, a deep realization dawned on me. I felt like I had known it all along. Its moonlight strands ran around my fingers. It was warm, it was cool. I floated away with it, without looking back…</span></b></div>
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-20629762090790959042011-12-23T16:48:00.003+05:302012-08-10T12:12:00.490+05:30Oogly Googly Doodles<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>One fine evening, surfing through the net without a definite aim, I happened to come across some really fantastic Doodles!</b><br />
<b>For those who don't know, 'Doodles' are the official artworks appearing on the home page of Google search engine, with the word 'Google' written in different beautiful ways. And some of them are related to the importance of the day of featuring. Google usually organizes Doodle Designing Competitions in various countries. (It was held recently in India as well. <a href="http://www.hindustantimes.com/technology/SocialMedia-Updates/Google-makes-7-year-old-Varsha-Gupta-s-Doodle-famous/SP-Article1-768886.aspx" target="_blank">Check it out</a>)</b><br />
<b>So, here are some of the cool ones I saw, in random order..</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZYiIOGAB0Po/TvRctnwnnQI/AAAAAAAAAJM/9xpTTolimo4/s1600/carnaval09.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><b><img border="0" height="126" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZYiIOGAB0Po/TvRctnwnnQI/AAAAAAAAAJM/9xpTTolimo4/s320/carnaval09.gif" width="320" /></b></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Carnival time!!</b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ev_-Bhyh9p0/TvRcu4G0qFI/AAAAAAAAAJU/O2nTF4_QmbE/s1600/charlesdarwin+200.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><b><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ev_-Bhyh9p0/TvRcu4G0qFI/AAAAAAAAAJU/O2nTF4_QmbE/s1600/charlesdarwin+200.gif" /></b></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>This one was to honor Charles Darwin on his birthday.</b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QRdV9_uCYeA/TvRcv-mGExI/AAAAAAAAAJY/gFoqDRpeDOU/s1600/china_doodle4.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><b><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QRdV9_uCYeA/TvRcv-mGExI/AAAAAAAAAJY/gFoqDRpeDOU/s1600/china_doodle4.gif" /></b></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>The winning entry of Doodle 4-China</b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EhYJIH-evpU/TvRcwmslz5I/AAAAAAAAAJk/RkgrMsie8Kw/s1600/comic-con09.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><b><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EhYJIH-evpU/TvRcwmslz5I/AAAAAAAAAJk/RkgrMsie8Kw/s1600/comic-con09.gif" /></b></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>By DC Comics<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cLRN3mgIqbk/TvRcxTCC3SI/AAAAAAAAAJo/CLgfepUkHKc/s1600/d4g_nordics11-hp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><b><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cLRN3mgIqbk/TvRcxTCC3SI/AAAAAAAAAJo/CLgfepUkHKc/s1600/d4g_nordics11-hp.jpg" /></b></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Another winning entry in Doodle Competitions</b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-erwKPy7MjZg/TvRcym-7NgI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/yBwKMpKzwQE/s1600/darwinus+masillae+unveil.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><b><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-erwKPy7MjZg/TvRcym-7NgI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/yBwKMpKzwQE/s1600/darwinus+masillae+unveil.gif" /></b></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>This was featured when scientists unveiled the fossils of Darwinus Massillae </b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e59xPqT2mno/TvRc0QY07oI/AAAAAAAAAKE/0x4gbmNrcDU/s1600/earthday09.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><b><img border="0" height="114" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e59xPqT2mno/TvRc0QY07oI/AAAAAAAAAKE/0x4gbmNrcDU/s320/earthday09.gif" width="320" /></b></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Earth Day 2009<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kSXs0lvjCpQ/TvRc1YfuC4I/AAAAAAAAAKI/fBmvjuMhbiA/s1600/fall09.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kSXs0lvjCpQ/TvRc1YfuC4I/AAAAAAAAAKI/fBmvjuMhbiA/s1600/fall09.gif" /></b></a></div>
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<b>It's Fruity!</b></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oKq_WhpuQs8/TvRc2DS1a4I/AAAAAAAAAKU/700wWXY8TCI/s1600/first_day_school-2011-hp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" height="140" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oKq_WhpuQs8/TvRc2DS1a4I/AAAAAAAAAKU/700wWXY8TCI/s320/first_day_school-2011-hp.jpg" width="320" /></b></a></div>
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<b>The first day of school..</b></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-34Hz_NLk-D8/TvRc3Ykjq1I/AAAAAAAAAKY/_vsanxsBUQ4/s1600/firstdaywinter09.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-34Hz_NLk-D8/TvRc3Ykjq1I/AAAAAAAAAKY/_vsanxsBUQ4/s1600/firstdaywinter09.gif" /></b></a></div>
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<b>Winter's here...</b></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gAkePSavorM/TvRc4CkebcI/AAAAAAAAAKg/ABsLhdkPgAc/s1600/giroditalia09.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gAkePSavorM/TvRc4CkebcI/AAAAAAAAAKg/ABsLhdkPgAc/s1600/giroditalia09.gif" /></b></a></div>
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<b><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giro_D%27Italia" target="_blank">Giro d'Italia</a> 2009</b></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XY9jYhdO97Y/TvRc6mp20PI/AAAAAAAAAK0/N2GBdm-Gk7k/s1600/gregormendel11-hp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" height="123" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XY9jYhdO97Y/TvRc6mp20PI/AAAAAAAAAK0/N2GBdm-Gk7k/s320/gregormendel11-hp.jpg" width="320" /></b></a></div>
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<b>Happy B'day to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gregor_Mendel" target="_blank">Gregor Mendel</a></b></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v2Ix8ski0f4/TvRc76d02xI/AAAAAAAAAK8/zm5WC1vFJYg/s1600/lantern11-hp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" height="134" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v2Ix8ski0f4/TvRc76d02xI/AAAAAAAAAK8/zm5WC1vFJYg/s320/lantern11-hp.jpg" width="320" /></b></a></div>
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lantern_Festival" target="_blank"><b>Lantern Festival</b></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-10wZR79FOqY/TvRc8xyvvCI/AAAAAAAAALA/1PizJP1L2BM/s1600/michaeljackson09.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-10wZR79FOqY/TvRc8xyvvCI/AAAAAAAAALA/1PizJP1L2BM/s1600/michaeljackson09.gif" /></b></a></div>
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<b>Michael Jackson Rulezz!!</b></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H1tXyaORqYo/TvRc9tW4VTI/AAAAAAAAALI/LpkcRpqIdXg/s1600/mothersday09.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H1tXyaORqYo/TvRc9tW4VTI/AAAAAAAAALI/LpkcRpqIdXg/s1600/mothersday09.gif" /></b></a></div>
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<b>Mother's Day 2009</b></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S-aahXFA5e4/TvRc-wYujyI/AAAAAAAAALU/QuhT-qx50VI/s1600/nazik_al_malaika11-hp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" height="125" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S-aahXFA5e4/TvRc-wYujyI/AAAAAAAAALU/QuhT-qx50VI/s320/nazik_al_malaika11-hp.jpg" width="320" /></b></a></div>
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<b>Nazik Al-Malaika, an Iraqi poet</b></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FTm6kOVCOVM/TvRc_npVLZI/AAAAAAAAALc/yvjiQkgksVM/s1600/nikolatesla09.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FTm6kOVCOVM/TvRc_npVLZI/AAAAAAAAALc/yvjiQkgksVM/s1600/nikolatesla09.gif" /></b></a></div>
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<b>On <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nikola_Tesla" target="_blank">Nikola Tesla</a>'s B'day</b></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aiowMLKHyuk/TvRdBYnJ4rI/AAAAAAAAALk/mXntuUfgMKc/s1600/noyce+84.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" height="131" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aiowMLKHyuk/TvRdBYnJ4rI/AAAAAAAAALk/mXntuUfgMKc/s320/noyce+84.jpg" width="320" /></b></a></div>
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<b>This one's for Robert Noyce, one of the founders of IC chip.</b></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-61IHR2czujQ/TvRdCoFjKkI/AAAAAAAAALs/EdezEbGCc3w/s1600/orsted09.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-61IHR2czujQ/TvRdCoFjKkI/AAAAAAAAALs/EdezEbGCc3w/s1600/orsted09.gif" /></b></a></div>
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<b>For <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hans_Oersted" target="_blank">Hans <span style="text-align: left;">Oersted</span></a></b></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bTtOFDPHjJ4/TvRdEWS8QvI/AAAAAAAAAL4/VztCKjB3zBg/s1600/pinocchio09.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bTtOFDPHjJ4/TvRdEWS8QvI/AAAAAAAAAL4/VztCKjB3zBg/s1600/pinocchio09.gif" /></b></a></div>
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<b>On the anniversary of the release of Pinocchio</b></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SOGpOXMmsYY/TvRdFbwmRNI/AAAAAAAAAMA/QYmOPF_ZuOc/s1600/poland_d4g-hp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" height="125" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SOGpOXMmsYY/TvRdFbwmRNI/AAAAAAAAAMA/QYmOPF_ZuOc/s320/poland_d4g-hp.jpg" width="320" /></b></a></div>
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<b>The shepherds of Poland..</b></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W70l05UFFDA/TvRdF6BA5ZI/AAAAAAAAAMM/xjHVXQmdBbg/s1600/popov09inventn+radio.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W70l05UFFDA/TvRdF6BA5ZI/AAAAAAAAAMM/xjHVXQmdBbg/s1600/popov09inventn+radio.gif" /></b></a></div>
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<b>Honoring <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexander_Stepanovich_Popov" target="_blank">Alexander Popov</a></b></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dty24qg_rtA/TvRdHC6RV8I/AAAAAAAAAMU/bG22AiUztmE/s1600/qixi09.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dty24qg_rtA/TvRdHC6RV8I/AAAAAAAAAMU/bG22AiUztmE/s1600/qixi09.gif" /></b></a></div>
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<b><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tanabata" target="_blank">Tanabata</a> 2009</b></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-njmYtD8_QCw/TvRdHlHsRFI/AAAAAAAAAMY/tbBdzR0QHrI/s1600/samuelmorse09.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-njmYtD8_QCw/TvRdHlHsRFI/AAAAAAAAAMY/tbBdzR0QHrI/s1600/samuelmorse09.gif" /></b></a></div>
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<b>On the B'day of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samuel_Morse" target="_blank">Samuel Morse</a></b></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-55RRecX2wmg/TvRdJzMGGRI/AAAAAAAAAMs/rkPqq6QKW6w/s1600/sevensleepersday.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-55RRecX2wmg/TvRdJzMGGRI/AAAAAAAAAMs/rkPqq6QKW6w/s1600/sevensleepersday.gif" /></b></a></div>
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<b>For the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seven_Sleepers_Day" target="_blank">Seven Sleeper's Day</a></b></div>
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<b>Birthday of Rabindranath Tagore</b></div>
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<b>On Mark Twain's B'day. The fence painting scene from <i>Adventures of Tom Sawyer</i>!</b></div>
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<b><a href="http://www.google.com/doodles/finder/2011/All%20doodles" target="_blank">Click</a> and explore more on your own!</b></div>
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<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-785465778774365710.post-32595284851200323032011-12-10T13:10:00.004+05:302012-08-10T12:11:36.952+05:30The Nerd<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>The lights were off but Shyam’s face was lit by the rays from his computer screen. His green eyes reflected a million rays like sparkling jades. His dark hair, once a heart throb to many girls at school, was combed neatly to the left. From the screen, an angelic face of a girl smiled at him.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6GFprkPyS7pbvgiXX03QocYMm9WySF7O1G0Xg5XSUvHnJ3T5M-C7Obwd0S78HAF2DQJ9wZmAKCTB9w0ThB_Hrrb3QgHfgbYitBc3H_n-7ay5DUsUWCD8tFQgBnOkQetB4bjQbf0RcVUk/s1600/nerd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><img border="0" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6GFprkPyS7pbvgiXX03QocYMm9WySF7O1G0Xg5XSUvHnJ3T5M-C7Obwd0S78HAF2DQJ9wZmAKCTB9w0ThB_Hrrb3QgHfgbYitBc3H_n-7ay5DUsUWCD8tFQgBnOkQetB4bjQbf0RcVUk/s200/nerd.jpg" width="200" /></b></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>He could never decide whether her eyes were hazel or brown…and her glossy black hair hung on either side of her face, as curly as ever. Every time Shyam looked at her, he would get lost in the mazes of those very curls. Sandhya…Shyam had started loving her the moment he set eyes on her beautiful face. He could spend eons just drinking in the warmth of her smile…but now, he had to get back to his C++ program. He minimized the facebook page and opened his C directory. He had 3 programs to finish for the next day. Even without a deadline, programming was one of the very few things that eased him up. Maybe that’s why he was branded with the names ‘Nerd’ and ‘geek. But he didn’t mind, of course. Why spend even a thought on such things when there was C++?<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>He started debugging the current program. With every line he read, he felt his thoughts running back to Sandhya. How easy it would’ve been if he could ‘debug’ his life. If only there was a way to rewrite the program of his life, he would replace so many things…<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>All his bland talks to Sandhya would be replaced with witty lines like that of those cool guys he envied. Talking to Sandhya wasn’t his only problem. He could never figure out how to handle people. Every time somebody, his mom, dad, teachers or his classmates, did something to make him happy, he always let them down with unenthusiastic replies. There were always these awkward instances when a girl tried to talk nice and he acted like he didn’t understand. But he couldn’t help it! He was better-off without C++…<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>He went on with the debugging, but his thoughts never stayed.</b></span></div>
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<b> His insides longed to get rid of the bottled feelings. He envied the guys at school who owned bikes and impressed everyone with their talks and stunts. He wished he could talk so easily and make friends like that. He wondered if he would ever be invited to one of those peppy parties or prom. Not likely. They don’t have C++ there.</b><br />
<b> Everywhere he went, people tried to be nice to him. But after a while, they always took a hint and never cared again. Hmm…people…when would he ever be one of them?</b><br />
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<b>An error on the screen brought his train of thoughts to a halt. Crap! Another bug to remove.</b></div>
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<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Malavika</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10777061056595857018noreply@blogger.com6