tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72352954346130734522024-03-13T07:40:59.659+05:30tinkerbelltinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-23471028724639956862009-09-24T11:20:00.002+05:302009-09-24T11:29:27.528+05:30ALARMING ME OUTTA DREAMLAND !<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9hT3Pn8mlZbmvrAIKdTUR1PCzE7_E0hyFa2y7kr6W-T8kriTFlhV_LlYyItcTAt_uil-8zu1PacAiXuPml_7pKjaaXLG95-rb96Aj7TIj8tkNYtieCh7EH_dXtm_x3GNArJ1e-d9q_qM/s1600-h/clock.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 160px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9hT3Pn8mlZbmvrAIKdTUR1PCzE7_E0hyFa2y7kr6W-T8kriTFlhV_LlYyItcTAt_uil-8zu1PacAiXuPml_7pKjaaXLG95-rb96Aj7TIj8tkNYtieCh7EH_dXtm_x3GNArJ1e-d9q_qM/s200/clock.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384909528613643938" /></a><br />The most annoying bit about living at hostel is waking up each day to the hardnosed shrieks of a hysterical alarm clock. Back home, waking up with the lark was trouble enough but at least then I had mum n dad to hug me out of bed and shove my sleepy-eyed being into the shower. Now, I absolutely Hate (with a capital H), the forced interruption of my oh-so-splendid circadian rhythm by the ruthless dictator my alarm clock is. Oh, and with every 3min snooze, you could almost feel it beaming with pleasure, jeering at your reluctance to push your lazy bum outta bed, it taking pride in being the sole cause of your displeasure.<br /><br />I seriously thank heavens for the advent of cell phones and the resulting obsoleteness of alarm clocks, for at least now I can set the alarm tone of my cell phone to a soft air, that lullabies me back to dream world; rather than wake up to the crass cacophony of the conventional clock !tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-27633729960124855692009-09-23T11:14:00.002+05:302009-09-23T11:37:58.819+05:30WHEN THE SEA BEARS AWAY INTO ITS DEPTHS A SINGLE GRAIN OF SAND, THE WHOLE OF EUROPE GROWS SMALLER ...<br /> -Paulo Coehlotinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-40493832258876308062009-09-19T13:20:00.003+05:302009-09-19T13:32:41.077+05:30<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsHvJVICKfigEntubS3RORebqBX-jy1B5mAqhTnYnBQtdpTzgYvDWqyL_qc5Yq3un8UGma2ZQ6viygCJB6HkgLnPJiQOTToHvZLt66dwXJDYipIT6mO809tT08LucSspVbvVbqGdMF3SI/s1600-h/LEAF.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsHvJVICKfigEntubS3RORebqBX-jy1B5mAqhTnYnBQtdpTzgYvDWqyL_qc5Yq3un8UGma2ZQ6viygCJB6HkgLnPJiQOTToHvZLt66dwXJDYipIT6mO809tT08LucSspVbvVbqGdMF3SI/s320/LEAF.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383085372985440210" /></a><br />THE LEAF I FALL ON..<br />THE VEINS I TRACE..<br />THE SPINE IT PRICKS..<br />I HAVE NO OTHER WAY TO MOVE ON..<br /><br />SLOWLY TO THE END..<br />MAYBE CONVERGE WITH ANOTHER..<br />A DROP BIG ENOUGH, I SAY..<br />TO GENTLY FALL OFF..tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-71088772719477248762009-05-19T16:13:00.002+05:302009-05-19T16:24:12.806+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwA2KVGPthG_Uyo8209RocaBv3HFPD9hsXqcUDE3XMChVdQddvv3sKs_Ln-JWHbbFjpTBITQAH5hoUow-LmdshuJVusxPl3cx4ujVumxJJ7xEhNNFoRGaMgsJogtUL_agtY19ZXe6RlA8/s1600-h/bird+001.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwA2KVGPthG_Uyo8209RocaBv3HFPD9hsXqcUDE3XMChVdQddvv3sKs_Ln-JWHbbFjpTBITQAH5hoUow-LmdshuJVusxPl3cx4ujVumxJJ7xEhNNFoRGaMgsJogtUL_agtY19ZXe6RlA8/s320/bird+001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337484841277667346" /></a><br />The lil thing landed in my balcony this afternoon.. she doesn't even know how to fly yet !! she won't let go off my hand at tyms !!<br /><br /><br />People, Mehreen's getting married.. plz wish her lots of luck and love... www.pinklovesbrown.blogspot.com..<br /><br />more from me latertinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-40252001656763909142009-05-13T18:48:00.003+05:302009-05-13T18:54:51.615+05:30Let the eyes do the talking...!Through the corner of your eyes, you see him enter the room… <br />You saved him the seat beside you<br />And he knows it... But he<br />Decides against sitting by you<br />And opts cleverly for a seat across the row.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcaWo6OjzFjx2ej6fP4a8M1Q0RLDVCcAbl8rL68sg7CjJfAssSimDtWYSW1WTbpa32azIHL_bSGgSmYmg-p_Kj4Y-CQh2HSc0NNycVjls-DOWinT52OkKpeO0zuNsNj2sZaPpqilewVWA/s1600-h/blog.com"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 93px; height: 166px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcaWo6OjzFjx2ej6fP4a8M1Q0RLDVCcAbl8rL68sg7CjJfAssSimDtWYSW1WTbpa32azIHL_bSGgSmYmg-p_Kj4Y-CQh2HSc0NNycVjls-DOWinT52OkKpeO0zuNsNj2sZaPpqilewVWA/s320/blog.com" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335298742207106050" /></a><br /><br />You are in his field of vision, definitely<br />But his inflated ego refuses to acknowledge the fact..<br />You know exactly what to do.<br /><br />Your slender hands manicured especially for him<br />Playfully turn the pencil to point towards him..<br />One quick glance towards him,<br />And there, you catch his eyes, clearly flirtatious,<br />He breaks into that slightly dimpled smile of his,<br />quickly curtained to avoid the professor’s wrath.<br />Your heart skips a beat, and so does his I bet..<br />His non verbal advances…<br />Your playful responses…<br />The blissful turbulence inside you, you feel<br />When even the most insignificant movements speak oodles…<br />And you leave it to your eyes do the all talking!! (and the teasing of course !)tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-62640575561217176052009-04-30T12:15:00.005+05:302009-04-30T13:18:50.631+05:30LAILA- My Fairytale Princess<span style="font-weight:bold;"></span><br />As a kid, I was extremely fond of visiting the babies in the neonatal ICU (NICU). I wasn't allowed inside obviously, but through the glass in the children ward , i'd stare at the little somethings for hours at end. Every time i stopped to look at them , the nurse on duty would swing a cot beside me. Through the corner of my eye, I'd look at the inhabitant of the cot- a beautiful girl- her complexion as white as milk, and rose lips; her soft brown locks would rest loosely on her pink cheeks- and if ever i looked at her directly-she'd break into this million dollar smile and her green eyes would twinkle bright as she smiled- she was pristine- my fairytale princess..<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/35/125051841_7b7dee1870.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/35/125051841_7b7dee1870.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />The shy girl that I was , I never really spoke to her, until Aunty Rahil introduced me to her one day.. "Baby Laila" she said.. <br />"Arabic ? " i asked<br />"Whatever." <br />I stood there puzzled for a while. Aunty explained Laila knows 3 diff languages- Arabic, English , Filipino .. and she even understands Hindi.I stood their awestruck. <br />Over the next few days , i started visiting the children's ward more often-less to see the nicu babies, more to meet my new pal Laila. There wasn't a moment her smile would fade.. I started talking to her, taught her my name. She was probably a year older to me, but she was so small, n delicate, n skinny..laila never stood up.<br />Just out of curiosity i asked laila one day, "Laila, phen anta baba, mama" (Laila, where r ur parents?). For the first time in all those days , her smile was subdued.. n softly she whispered - "Laila don know baba mama" ... through the gap in the cot's railings i gave princess my hand.......<br /><br /><br />It was only years later I was told Laila lost her parents - her dad,a Saudi national n mum an Egyptian- shortly after she was born,in an accident. Laila survived,but was crippled for life. She was now taken care by the Filipino, Indian and Saudi nurses at the hospital. That was her home, and we were family..<br /><br />I've lost touch with Laila, and the nurses at hospital.. I wish I knew how Laila is, where she is now...She was the happiest girl I'd ever met despite all that she'd lost.. I really miss seeing her, miss telling her, "I'll be Laila's mama".. we love you Laila, wherever you are. God bless you hunnie..tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-31143762313293256542009-04-27T11:03:00.002+05:302009-04-27T11:12:36.591+05:30@ pAppU in EVery HOuseHOld<span style="font-weight:bold;">A pappu in every household… <br />I don’t know about the rest of the world but if you have any Indian links, I’m mighty sure you’ve at the least, 1 pappu at home.. !!!<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Pappu bhaiya ?? <br />Pappu mama??<br />Pappan uncle ??<br />Pappu, ur best friend’s nickname – he wouldn’t have told you for sure you dumbo!!<br />Pappu- the guy who can’t dance, s**** !!<br />Pappu-the guy who doesn’t vote…<br />Pappu-the guy who washes your car???<br />Pappu, your new neighbor??<br />Pappu – the milk man??<br />Pappu- jo pass ho gaya !!!<br />Pappu –who picks his nose !!!</span><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://media.photobucket.com/image/who is pappu/kapson/1206/PappuPassHoGaya.gif?o=1" target="_blank"><img src="http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e210/kapson/1206/PappuPassHoGaya.gif" border="0"></a><br /><br />I wonder what’s with the name??!! I’m definitely going to Google it one of these days!!<br />Google: “origin of pappu”- apart from his parents, silly !<br />Google: “the pappu revolution”<br />Google: “who names their kids pappu???” ……… I mean people still doooo ??!!!!!!!!<br />Google: “who was the first pappu anyway??????”<br />Google: “why can’t people get over the name pappu??”<br /><br />And while Google looks for my answers, I assume pappu’s graduated from being just a household name to a synonym for the Indian guy-next- door !!<br /><br />Ok, Mr.every next blogger- own up- are you a pappu too ???!!!<br /><br />P.s .. what’s the female version of pappu ??? pappy??? Pappi?? Papp’irl’?? papp’woman’ ???</span>tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-36662439370073885462009-04-11T12:52:00.004+05:302009-04-11T13:33:09.121+05:30ISHLA- PANI....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEZ4LUEWzC7oFr8avnYo2U9zl0RlI57WsUwgAaRFmDj-q48dzdPvfepzegTehkd_5LMaOEI1bD0XF1F0rXtILOcR6fmvHo2aI6O8W4HsYLjR9IeADmZIGuwIUV23FaeqOd9l5GC-bz-Sk/s1600-h/raadu+002.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEZ4LUEWzC7oFr8avnYo2U9zl0RlI57WsUwgAaRFmDj-q48dzdPvfepzegTehkd_5LMaOEI1bD0XF1F0rXtILOcR6fmvHo2aI6O8W4HsYLjR9IeADmZIGuwIUV23FaeqOd9l5GC-bz-Sk/s200/raadu+002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323341131008818418" /></a><br /><br />Among my best memories from school, was Raad's first day at school. Raad used to be this adorable chubby lil huggable kid, who'd be kuchikooed all the time. chubby, would actually be an understatement !! <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdg1259sbBuj9jJm8qAWiXtOjwQJu2FcYGj0wD_gDH3XVL1RSD01IZ_fCpukstTc3RnfG6sOoHUAJy732lO7MwOGd9aHsNF2UB0Y60cPsawEfT1f8vf55MRO4QTaoJOVH71X0W2q9pctI/s1600-h/raadu+001.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdg1259sbBuj9jJm8qAWiXtOjwQJu2FcYGj0wD_gDH3XVL1RSD01IZ_fCpukstTc3RnfG6sOoHUAJy732lO7MwOGd9aHsNF2UB0Y60cPsawEfT1f8vf55MRO4QTaoJOVH71X0W2q9pctI/s200/raadu+001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323340457764266130" /></a><br />I remember the tiny thing slamming the door of my class, 2A, in the middle of a pre-recess social studies lecture with charulata miss , his water-bottle hanging around his neck, and his new uniform soiled beyond recognition.<br /><br />He knew his sis had to be some where there between the 25 odd faces, and without a moment's hesitation or the teacher's permission, he 'squealed' ,<br /> " Ishla, paani de do !!"... (" ISHLA, WATER !! ")....<br /><br />:D<br /><br /><br />The teacher let him have my bottle without raising an eyebrow - perhaps the candidness of the situation or Raad's innocence melted her shrewdness away..tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-20979177745861016582009-03-28T12:12:00.000+05:302009-03-28T12:49:26.516+05:30life's good !!Instant Coffee<br /> Instant Cup Noodles<br /> Instant facebooking<br /><br />10 odd books, 30 sleepless nights, thank God its all over... Now i realise what they mean when they say, "medicos really need to study loads "...<br /><br />2.5years through MBBS..feels great, i'm a half-doc already :)...<br />so far , so good...<br /><br />will be back 2 blogsville in just a while.. take care buddies.. pray for my results..<br /><br />In the meanwhile, i've work to be done... an ignored room to be tidied up; and a month of inactive existence, to be shuffled up and ruffled up, life infused into every moment; calls ignored then, to be returned back now; and loads of fun to catch up with !tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-45048397789377244142009-01-24T10:15:00.006+05:302009-01-24T11:05:15.583+05:30The Bubble<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ilovebacteria.com/Images/bubble.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 446px; height: 529px;" src="http://ilovebacteria.com/Images/bubble.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br />Solution stirred<br />Froth formed<br />Blow into it, and i take form..<br />Fragile though, a full circle form.<br /><br /> Glistening in the colors of the rainbow,<br /> Dancing with the ways of the wind !!<br /><br />But touch me not, nor blow me hard.<br />Here this while, shall be gone the next.<br />For your one caress, or your one whisper,<br />Shall spell my end forever.<br /><br /> Here's t a while, i shall cry<br /> Before getting lost to the nothingness of time.<br /><br />You shall tread ahead,<br />Just a bubble , you said.<br />A moment there, the next its gone,<br />But for the bubble,forever she's dead...tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-87385257925734320512009-01-22T13:34:00.002+05:302009-01-22T13:36:38.296+05:30Its my life...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZTS5oAJ2x5wmMFBycDkKTgocP-9ZgAkKEUqz5GqG8T7Nn5u0ZBx60WJ8UlZqJUHcSk9Qlnub4jD0q7Xbns-lqHtlXmrwo0BCnBgAwP69qe5CEtvUWzFqFHhqw4HsV5U8RdqG2X9m-Hng/s1600-h/paa199000023.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 141px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZTS5oAJ2x5wmMFBycDkKTgocP-9ZgAkKEUqz5GqG8T7Nn5u0ZBx60WJ8UlZqJUHcSk9Qlnub4jD0q7Xbns-lqHtlXmrwo0BCnBgAwP69qe5CEtvUWzFqFHhqw4HsV5U8RdqG2X9m-Hng/s200/paa199000023.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294026193870085266" /></a><br />Plugging in the car keys, ignition on, she decided to drive herself to the mall, unaccompanied- cellphone switched off-no cranky bosses to be answerable to, no household responsibilities, no gossipy girlfriends, no protective boyfriend. It had been long, days, maybe months since she'd lived her carefree, child like self. Today she was going to do just that.<br />Pulling herself a cart, she walked through the aisles of the mall.<br />Toothpaste-she'd been using gumcare for the last,hmm.. year ??!!.. no, today she grabbed one of her favourite bubblegum flavoured liquid toothpaste. Detergent, hmm no..reminds her of all the laundry she had to get delivered. Room freshener, no, deodorant, soap, shampoo, conditioner, none.. Bubble bath, yes.. the one with the free rubber duckie..<br />Chocolate- hershey's kisses her favourite, popped a packet into the cart, no.. remimded her of her ex- Harshit.. always brought her one of those when they met.. hershey's kisses back into the rack.. suddenly she didn't feel like buying chocolates.<br />Milk- skimmed, toned, double toned, naaah... its all she'd been living on since she grew up to be the anorexic teenager she once was.. today it was Banana Milk she went for.. papa loved buying them for her, till she started refusing them when she turned 15.. juices, cheese, energy drinks, nopes, none..<br />Lipsticks, glosses, kohl, eye-liners .. none.. she wasn't in the mood of anything that made her feel artificial. besides, she was tired of always having to look good.. look good for work, look good for guests, look good for peers, look good for her boy.. today she just wanted to be herself.. simple, sweet, maybe not even beautiful, but then she loved herself the way she was.. all she dropped into the cart was a pedicure kit; her nails really needed some filing, no enamel again.<br />Brick game.. it'd been ages since she last played tetrix. The mobile games were fine, but for the moment she really wanted her favorite uncomplicated, zero frills kiddie game..<br />Swinging back the shopping cart , making her way past the toy section, the cosmetic section, food and drink, chocolates, the bakery, household utilities, walked to the counter queue awaiting her turn.. staring pointlessly into her cart, amused with her purchases. She rested her cart on the counter belt, while the saleswoman billed the items one by one.A second later she found herself running back to the chocolates section, grabbed herself a jumbo pack of "hershey's kisses", hurried way past the crowd and tossed the packet in front of the saleswoman, with a funny happy feeling.<br />As she walked out towards the parking, fumbling for the keys in her over-sized bag, all the way smiling n humming to herself, she realised it wasn't her life she had been living for all these days..it was boss', n mama's, n carol's, n harshit's life she was leading.. this very second, she had taken back her life into her own hands.Today, chocolates meant chocolates, not harshit.. who was harshit anyway? She loved chocolates, not harshit..<br /><br /><br /><br />The smallest fantasies in life sometimes give way to the biggest realizations.<br />Introspection isn't a bad idea after all.tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-50511650320364809372009-01-02T22:01:00.004+05:302009-01-02T22:15:58.524+05:30WHATEVER ...Feeling so completely mixed up at the moment..Don’t even know why I’m blogging today..<br /><br /><br />• I’m still laughing at Phoebee’s “Human spleen and garbage song” from an episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S I saw 3 days back..<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvNE7NeweoUc-RYzGDUtExO5Oo3MRN6TXgAEiKrcZiIPUZhu_FOQtiT4sf_Wl_qlEwvVGsbJqSvfKzZ9iFuhvGnZvbufefPTsEDrWuXXJ0E1t4br92KWbUmYwFEduzbkPhpH_-LQUcJFU/s1600-h/16753421_phoebe_buffay.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 156px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvNE7NeweoUc-RYzGDUtExO5Oo3MRN6TXgAEiKrcZiIPUZhu_FOQtiT4sf_Wl_qlEwvVGsbJqSvfKzZ9iFuhvGnZvbufefPTsEDrWuXXJ0E1t4br92KWbUmYwFEduzbkPhpH_-LQUcJFU/s200/16753421_phoebe_buffay.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286737125270880690" /></a><br /><br />• I’m wondering what’s so “new” about the New Year minus the date..<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCuUJxs1Xz7bkm1r0ixoJ6buyuw3PocnpWezW_95sMHI-mauXLKWAG_tElFzzLF_txxi5o1HIDySErpljo1Sy109_z6I4u6ezBm81v1JaGW_TO8VEYPBya2hK5FoN_Ac28agOakMnHxuI/s1600-h/happy-new-year1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 159px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCuUJxs1Xz7bkm1r0ixoJ6buyuw3PocnpWezW_95sMHI-mauXLKWAG_tElFzzLF_txxi5o1HIDySErpljo1Sy109_z6I4u6ezBm81v1JaGW_TO8VEYPBya2hK5FoN_Ac28agOakMnHxuI/s200/happy-new-year1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286737979832329026" /></a><br /><br />• I’m staring at the almost worn-out henna on my hands and thinking how every doctor could be a henna artist by just drawing a couple of smooth muscle cells and filling them up with macrophages, leukocytes, nuclei- whatever..<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLDlNb2fnZcDBh3HTP4fp1kUUa03E3EWbuy5hFVvff0ijDADHZiLpYIbVwWuXhA35Xj5v3nuvCvhs12HZdA0pNk5Kyp7qo-ApsPSgeFu2qQEu2eADodsMKAebBwd5Khee1GQ2ISpvJDdE/s1600-h/8830-henna-body-art.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 159px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLDlNb2fnZcDBh3HTP4fp1kUUa03E3EWbuy5hFVvff0ijDADHZiLpYIbVwWuXhA35Xj5v3nuvCvhs12HZdA0pNk5Kyp7qo-ApsPSgeFu2qQEu2eADodsMKAebBwd5Khee1GQ2ISpvJDdE/s200/8830-henna-body-art.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286737128845998818" /></a><br /><br />• I’m sad about mum not letting me take a laptop back to hostel- that’s one reason why I’m such an “unavailable blogger” – despite the fact that I’m probably my happiest when blogging. Don’t miss out on any of your blogs, thanks to the cell phone, but cant comment/post through it :( ..<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR3XKnYsk-Jp4URTcUO7zEPeDwFsyNBhPLgkbydgZQvbauH_gnGpcpgxKSGIlqi7dOuLYfmDO15y5wtY46fvetiOLJrCE1umcEnbhZzKtZLtKjwYPfJl5im9PJtiO9F3LB9dxs6cUq6lo/s1600-h/400_F_49525_KflCVR1BGiNSlq0ok3L5j2pmDJ6PUv.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR3XKnYsk-Jp4URTcUO7zEPeDwFsyNBhPLgkbydgZQvbauH_gnGpcpgxKSGIlqi7dOuLYfmDO15y5wtY46fvetiOLJrCE1umcEnbhZzKtZLtKjwYPfJl5im9PJtiO9F3LB9dxs6cUq6lo/s200/400_F_49525_KflCVR1BGiNSlq0ok3L5j2pmDJ6PUv.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286737129716468642" /></a><br /><br />• I’m angry with the Indian railways for reserving my berth in the cubicle next to the WC- all through the previous year, and that, without fail ; which means a ‘full journey entertainment package’ which includes passengers rushing in and out at odd times to empty bladders , cranky children who need nappy changes, busy-doing-nothing aunties who need to wash pickle jars, restless uncles who just need some fresh air, chronic smokers who feel left out if they don’t contribute their share to global warming, cell phone addicts frantically searching for the exact latitudes and longitudes of the networks, playing hide-n-seek with them, the innumerable chai, biscuit, paper soap walas . And not to forget the light and sound effect from the passage lights that won’t go off the entire night and the unfailingly creaky door respectively.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD9GlCtCaW-UuDp6s8pVWrzdaxyPIWIsFMAA4JlqHFPrhP62YNLHAjC3n0hwQuQ10OF5ymOj95SNOPmgYf1n3VTO4SmXsuE7Ar5MQkwUzQFMO_x1JnGyxJOjUd_P8BA0Nksbzf5ydhc8k/s1600-h/DEL+Indian+Railways+Air-conditioned+3-tier+(AC3)+coach+on+overnight+train+2381+POORVA+EXPRESS+from+Varanasi+or+Benares+to+Delhi+3008x2000.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD9GlCtCaW-UuDp6s8pVWrzdaxyPIWIsFMAA4JlqHFPrhP62YNLHAjC3n0hwQuQ10OF5ymOj95SNOPmgYf1n3VTO4SmXsuE7Ar5MQkwUzQFMO_x1JnGyxJOjUd_P8BA0Nksbzf5ydhc8k/s200/DEL+Indian+Railways+Air-conditioned+3-tier+(AC3)+coach+on+overnight+train+2381+POORVA+EXPRESS+from+Varanasi+or+Benares+to+Delhi+3008x2000.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286737974483259138" /></a><br /><br />• I’m wondering how I’ll manage studying 4 XXL books (add 1 more for parasitology ) and completing 100 odd pages of med-journals before the 12th of January..<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiON4hTpVQl_hjw9ugBI3C_tpANccvREKZzcdr7UmodXR4VUyJLelfIFmJoLHqDDRiz8BkYF0ftJ3EnXAFLJzBu8GS25f99Ggvl-PvpAzJ3obH3ZLU9Pp52Wh2QntScRdAv1n2G9zdzUVs/s1600-h/robbins_big.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 151px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiON4hTpVQl_hjw9ugBI3C_tpANccvREKZzcdr7UmodXR4VUyJLelfIFmJoLHqDDRiz8BkYF0ftJ3EnXAFLJzBu8GS25f99Ggvl-PvpAzJ3obH3ZLU9Pp52Wh2QntScRdAv1n2G9zdzUVs/s200/robbins_big.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286737133317360498" /></a><br /><br />• I’m missing holding hands and running bare feet in wet sand and splash into the sea- playing ‘who’s stronger’ with the waves, the smell of salt in the air.. And seaweeds brushing against your legs…<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4atsam38BJl_B3Fmnrirl0Myje2aojQuFwFXqiyHMhNEuPYyIiMQiilVmsfiwQaP5W9M_hbj5yD-ugtaRps-8UYfH6yL18IaMrG2S8mzlPHUekxG2csgp4tb4zJbjfrFJlajl7CwXi98/s1600-h/girl_running_on_beach.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4atsam38BJl_B3Fmnrirl0Myje2aojQuFwFXqiyHMhNEuPYyIiMQiilVmsfiwQaP5W9M_hbj5yD-ugtaRps-8UYfH6yL18IaMrG2S8mzlPHUekxG2csgp4tb4zJbjfrFJlajl7CwXi98/s200/girl_running_on_beach.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286737972105577266" /></a><br /><br /><br />• I’m amazed at how perfectly round, hard-boiled egg yolks are- and the perfect grayish blue tint the periphery of the yolk takes up leaving the core a soft yellow core……<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpK8Q47w0T6lsbAKL1ADcIcLxStbyDFzvCOtwqXuHA2flCICnr1_xG3K1XDwR85gx_wENyoyFUDLiPZMIQHpHfJLZPWBBwuSsyG_kGFB0CMmSytEItP3Zma0tJfs2S6RKhEh6L3R2lqqE/s1600-h/250px-Hard_eggs_187.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpK8Q47w0T6lsbAKL1ADcIcLxStbyDFzvCOtwqXuHA2flCICnr1_xG3K1XDwR85gx_wENyoyFUDLiPZMIQHpHfJLZPWBBwuSsyG_kGFB0CMmSytEItP3Zma0tJfs2S6RKhEh6L3R2lqqE/s200/250px-Hard_eggs_187.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286737132851581810" /></a><br /><br />• And I’m wondering how many of you, the wonderful souls that you are, would pray I score really really well in the exams I’m taking this month and the next.. and for the laptop I so badly need at hostel<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQBFj5-pQwfCIXn2i8FPIpME8c2moZsS__9KxWYSFlhhY3U-yxZx0J0ownj_qvz-f_APcETJxE_EGE2IVe4FzHxSQd0UAbbDlwPDtH_rXk5b9EB8VoIF_Dnp111mSg3WUA3-omlTORz0w/s1600-h/exams.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQBFj5-pQwfCIXn2i8FPIpME8c2moZsS__9KxWYSFlhhY3U-yxZx0J0ownj_qvz-f_APcETJxE_EGE2IVe4FzHxSQd0UAbbDlwPDtH_rXk5b9EB8VoIF_Dnp111mSg3WUA3-omlTORz0w/s200/exams.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286737978730060034" /></a><br /><br /><br />P.S. HAPPY NEW YEAR ... maybe someday i'll find whats so new about the new year...tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-547703626941836312008-12-11T19:02:00.001+05:302008-12-11T19:21:28.352+05:30I'll Miss You Dadi...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLzKq8YgDrP3NJNRncVER4QFqhlijmA9t1MderckJNgmucWLI05O-klKUYQaCsKk093mrZgaS4zdJMdpRVC-1a_GfGe9jt9ids0iM0mGYLu3QbWGQOF0j8OqtEAh9-akIilsY6PV0vvFI/s1600-h/DSC00001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 182px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLzKq8YgDrP3NJNRncVER4QFqhlijmA9t1MderckJNgmucWLI05O-klKUYQaCsKk093mrZgaS4zdJMdpRVC-1a_GfGe9jt9ids0iM0mGYLu3QbWGQOF0j8OqtEAh9-akIilsY6PV0vvFI/s200/DSC00001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278529705557602562" /></a><br />Hospital greens had been the colour of the month<br /><br />For every time, she was there, they were there to welcome her<br /><br />Those, and the pungent smell of disinfectants..<br /><br />Everday, from dawn to dusk, she’d sit alone<br /><br />The chair in the corner of the waiting hall, she’d made her own..<br /><br />For they said, she wasn’t old enough to trespass the boundaries of the green curtains beyond the glass doors<br /><br />Over the month, all she’d seen were nurses rushing in and doctors taking rounds,weary relatives at times..<br /><br />She knew they had her granny in there, and hopeful granny would call her in one day she waited.. and waited..<br /><br />When finally today they did call her...<br /><br />Among a million wires, large monitors and machines she’d never seen..<br /><br />Among suppressed sobs and sniffs ..<br /><br />There lay granny..<br /><br />Peaceful and calm,<br /><br />Still and serene,<br /><br />Her face whiter than the shroud that covered her today..<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <br /><br />And they thought, she was too little to understand............tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-38224902167465147752008-12-09T14:28:00.005+05:302008-12-09T14:42:24.792+05:30SOLITUDE...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1DBMetAtWwWGFE-sH4pBJaokJnD481Lp_p0PMJ_pKwBy7OlAfyguErk_tJJXtvEP1s49T5zFVn6CZOWb7xp-r39XdyXiGMkScxPx_EPz_JFVD3kEil8hkk5ZwPk2jOknLsDNZZKzRCHc/s1600-h/Image087.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277715194695041298" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1DBMetAtWwWGFE-sH4pBJaokJnD481Lp_p0PMJ_pKwBy7OlAfyguErk_tJJXtvEP1s49T5zFVn6CZOWb7xp-r39XdyXiGMkScxPx_EPz_JFVD3kEil8hkk5ZwPk2jOknLsDNZZKzRCHc/s200/Image087.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjup0YIBgs8oC86F0MO-P4j2z7Iyhyphenhyphenfhanve5eOjwQ3Th2KFHbjAwsrSn854MdA8vUHE0eZkS5JcZO9s0bubiGMVaV_mMQGtk3NC9WFbCAwJCAmV6EX3eqFdEW6K9tazY-ZPcwfZZkHbgM/s1600-h/Image086.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277715190981367922" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjup0YIBgs8oC86F0MO-P4j2z7Iyhyphenhyphenfhanve5eOjwQ3Th2KFHbjAwsrSn854MdA8vUHE0eZkS5JcZO9s0bubiGMVaV_mMQGtk3NC9WFbCAwJCAmV6EX3eqFdEW6K9tazY-ZPcwfZZkHbgM/s200/Image086.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXWQTpjheL03X8c_XDXjkGXBn_IgcjxWpvVyqGvaq1KCLhKBjt1VE3sfaI2a7fQR92LC-4uvOGWSFviSJTlh1TrxSWxzLG5In8orbjFHonaKdZjnwFTE4Ll5GKIZoan_yIXhjd6vVr0N0/s1600-h/Image085.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277715185838574962" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXWQTpjheL03X8c_XDXjkGXBn_IgcjxWpvVyqGvaq1KCLhKBjt1VE3sfaI2a7fQR92LC-4uvOGWSFviSJTlh1TrxSWxzLG5In8orbjFHonaKdZjnwFTE4Ll5GKIZoan_yIXhjd6vVr0N0/s200/Image085.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAmlYfjtSZ8FqMNh58lDn_GmKFUfhpXh_BNK-DgiVtGwhsmU3A2wsOkwa9MfE-eqgxiuEW_7fMRe-xIAOghMPdli7dUBgYthGmiiXSdigHfPb3tqwN29WgFQ_G7mjHy3r2yzILCnM6-R8/s1600-h/Image084.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277713243957394802" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAmlYfjtSZ8FqMNh58lDn_GmKFUfhpXh_BNK-DgiVtGwhsmU3A2wsOkwa9MfE-eqgxiuEW_7fMRe-xIAOghMPdli7dUBgYthGmiiXSdigHfPb3tqwN29WgFQ_G7mjHy3r2yzILCnM6-R8/s200/Image084.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit03OcMjbhkkMH7dxu3dU-ddEU7adFDrHH4tUGbZwC4OvIg9kX6aeDkS68r95057cIIo6AJJjHffdts9gYn3daugwvWQXihDDbwcHPjxMkchU6ax_pd2NPn1MOlf94r_WanrAcO3W7Ilw/s1600-h/Image083.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277712486892830962" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit03OcMjbhkkMH7dxu3dU-ddEU7adFDrHH4tUGbZwC4OvIg9kX6aeDkS68r95057cIIo6AJJjHffdts9gYn3daugwvWQXihDDbwcHPjxMkchU6ax_pd2NPn1MOlf94r_WanrAcO3W7Ilw/s200/Image083.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="color:#cc0000;">pictures of my favourite corner at college.. my favourite bench facing "the budgy n bunny enclosure" as i call it.. can sit here for hours together just watching fluffy bunnies munching on greenies, or budgies meticulously preening themselves.. And at times just the musty smell of wet grass gives me a high..</span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#cc0000;">If ever you find me nowhere, you know where to look now ;)</span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><p></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><p></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><span style="color:#990000;"></span></p></div></div></div>tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-4643029923678142682008-11-09T17:51:00.002+05:302008-11-09T18:07:29.560+05:30Just Dropped by (again)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdjddiFYoi0IRjVjxNzGjr3EU7eMSQ4IWe0piHudtwP6du9IS5bA4y2FlrrZTRGOu_7V9EAVqIOAkbukjWEecvyfoRl-g6FlEhGw_wmRayRYbbQOvMoSLDayxmFpn1YVVeUjDeQcNXXgk/s1600-h/SadGirl.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266635674102789042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 198px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdjddiFYoi0IRjVjxNzGjr3EU7eMSQ4IWe0piHudtwP6du9IS5bA4y2FlrrZTRGOu_7V9EAVqIOAkbukjWEecvyfoRl-g6FlEhGw_wmRayRYbbQOvMoSLDayxmFpn1YVVeUjDeQcNXXgk/s200/SadGirl.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="color:#663366;">this friend of mine once called me " geeli mitti".. hindi for "wet clay".. and i proceeded to explain," <em>Anyone can mould you into whatever they want you to be-you need to be strong and learn to say no to people..the world can be a cruel place "..</em></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#663366;">Amazed at how true this stands today.......</span></div>tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-6818348851345161642008-11-04T10:33:00.000+05:302008-11-04T11:00:36.448+05:30How Cute Is CUTE..??<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cynical-c.com/archives/bloggraphics/44334153_3e9114058d.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://www.cynical-c.com/archives/bloggraphics/44334153_3e9114058d.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:85%;">THIS FRIEND OF MINE-ARVIND, OFTEN GETS PISSED OFF EACH TIME I USE THE WORD "CUTE" AND REMARKS IN A NICE-" YOU GOTTA ANSWER ME TODAY" LOOK- "DEFINITION KYA HAI TUMHARE 'CUTE' KA?? " (whats your definition of the word "cute.. )..</span></span> <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">MAYBE BECAUSE I USE IT TOO OFTEN, MAYBE BECAUSE I USE IT FOR ALMOST ANYTHING I LAY MY EYES ON..<br />A CUTE BABY IS CUTE, BUT AN AGING ANATOMY PROFFESSOR WITH A NICE WHITE CROP ATOP HIS TEDDYBEAR FACE ?? I FIND HIM CUTE.. REALLY !!<br />A CUDDLY HAMSTER'S CUTE, SO IS A FLUFFY YELLOW CHICK, BUT BELEIVE ME, I FIND AN UGLY OLD BESPECTALED OWL CUTE TOO !!<br />SHAHRUKH KHAN MAYBE HANDSOME, BUT SHAHID KAPOOR'S CUTE..<br />AND CUTE IS THE OLD COUPLE WHO WALK THEIR WAY EACH DAY HAND-IN-HAND, STEP-IN-STEP..<br />THE NEW SIZE OF SPRITE EXPRESS IS CUTE..<br />THAT DIRTY DOG THAT TREATS MY HOSTEL COMPOUND LIKE HOME IS AN UGLY CUTE THING TOO..<br />THE HIPPO THAT PEED ON FARAH AND RAAD AT THE ZOO WAS REALLY CUTE TOO !! (REMEMBER DARLING?? )<br />CUTE ARE MY STUFFIES, BUT SO IS MY PILLOW !!<br />AND CUTE IS DONALD DUCK'S REAR WHEN HE WALKS..SWISHH SWING TO THE LEFT WITH A STEP, SWISHH SWING TO THE RIGHT WITH THE NEXT !!<br /><br />AND YOU CALLING ME CUTE AT A PARTY, WHEN I EXPECT BEING CALLED PRETTY IS AN OUTRIGHT INSULT- REALLY, YOUR NICE POLITE WAY OF SAYING- YOUR UGLY !!<br /><br />I'VE BEGUN WONDERING MYSELF.. HOW CUTE IS CUTE REALLY..ANY ANSWERS ??<br /><br /></span></span>tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-84496088481125818672008-11-01T12:29:00.000+05:302008-11-01T14:08:44.244+05:30Knock Knock.. Here Comes Winter<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaSHDl-g26X070ZXnjSrM04CldQg2SeMyNteQt5Bi4BYIIQCw_ce9pJVUiO98gVmfCOMdqKynMwChOyUEvxN5gJyqMVpTUb6DbSNhQwKzla2VGmgWNqsteLGkoyfrSVGfrb8j5YSNj8KU/s1600-h/collage.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263605495103981634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaSHDl-g26X070ZXnjSrM04CldQg2SeMyNteQt5Bi4BYIIQCw_ce9pJVUiO98gVmfCOMdqKynMwChOyUEvxN5gJyqMVpTUb6DbSNhQwKzla2VGmgWNqsteLGkoyfrSVGfrb8j5YSNj8KU/s200/collage.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijm4z2Re2jnz5j3ee_wJ5PBVl4bK45KNmPaDjRuAbMEedf8esPTZm5T2jHesFyjq4xkAA1lLjd3joUnabVT7ksLMcgsQsMY-xPzKVtdnMUf8zfEP2oH6HUenL8r_wFJdgQqZY-KV6-xGQ/s1600-h/snow.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263605485153512898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 113px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijm4z2Re2jnz5j3ee_wJ5PBVl4bK45KNmPaDjRuAbMEedf8esPTZm5T2jHesFyjq4xkAA1lLjd3joUnabVT7ksLMcgsQsMY-xPzKVtdnMUf8zfEP2oH6HUenL8r_wFJdgQqZY-KV6-xGQ/s200/snow.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>Woke up this morning with a fresh positivity that i'd been deprived of all through October. October wasnt kind 2 me..I'm sure Nov will be..</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Ran to change the calender sheets to NOVEMBER, before anyone else did.. wow!just that made me feel victorious- and why not, I'd mercilessly shooed away dreadful October !!</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>With November, I declare winter's arrival too.. it isnt even cold yet, not even mildly cool.. but so what, I'm the Queen of my psychology, and i decide when winter begins.. there is something wonderful about the season..In love with it completely..</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><ol><br /><br /><br /><br /><li><span style="color:#000066;">love that winter glow,early in the morning.. i dunno how, but somehow u actually turn 2 look really radiant and pristine after a good winter nite's sleep.. don't believe me?? check out for yourself..run 2 the mirror first thing in the morning!</span></li><br /><br /><br /><br /><li><span style="color:#000066;">love the massive bedspreads, fluffy fleeces, warm comforters, heavy blankets that seemingly crush u under their weight- love 'em.. the heavier the better</span></li><br /><br /><br /><br /><li><span style="color:#000066;">love woollens.. oversized pullovers (love my nails barely peeping out from the sleeves..;) ), fitted sweaters , warm socks, carpet slippers- somehow it makes me feel so huggable!!</span></li><br /><br /><br /><br /><li><span style="color:#000066;">love the complacency winter infuses into me.. though dad n mum get pissed off with me when i become complacent.. specially when it comes 2 taking a shower.. not that i don't like taking a bath.. its just like winter makes life feel easy-paced... "isra take a shower- what's the hurry mama" kinda attitude!</span></li><br /><br /><br /><br /><li><span style="color:#000066;">love physics for once!! why take pains to love the entire subject, maybe i just love what static electricity does to your hair and woolies- the crackles, the sparks, the works !!</span> </li><br /><br /><br /><br /><li><span style="color:#000066;">love the fact that the sun spares me a few months of tanning.. most people are delighted to see the sun in winters..ahemm...no thanks, i have no plans of joining your occassional winter sun baths!</span></li><br /><br /><br /><br /><li><span style="color:#000066;">love the layer over layer of clothes hiding any sign of fat/ flab that may be.. If someone calls me fat in winters all I need say- I'm thin beneath my layers!</span></li><br /><br /><br /><br /><li><span style="color:#000066;">Its when i get 2 wear all my oversized clothes... their "oversize" gets hidden under vibrant woollens</span></li><br /><br /><br /><br /><li><span style="color:#000066;">I'm not much a dog lover really, but I'm terribly in love with those lil pugs n poodles in funny "dog jackets" and "checked sweaters" fruitlessly trying to keep pace with their masters !!</span></li><br /><br /><br /><br /><li><span style="color:#000066;">love the colours of winter- deep misty blue and frosty white..</span><br /></li><br /><br /><br /><li>love food in winter... its when u realise how good warm food tastes..unlike in summers,when everything around you is warm!! plus there's this delicacy called nihari, usually made in winters.. n believe me,its amaaazziiing!!</li><br /><br /><li>love that slight shivering, the involuntary jaw movements, the sound of teeth trembling against each other.. as if u've just been switched to a vibrate mode!</li><br /><br /><li>love curling up into a warm corner.. makes me feel like a soft ball of wool.. reminds me of 1day old chicks digging among themselves to find their sweet spot..</li><br /><br /><li>love my kuppa.. freshly brewed,steaming hot ethiopian coffee.. keep my hands wrapped around the hot mug for as long as it warms up my hands!!</li><br /><br /><li>doesnt snow at my place ... though i'd have loved it if it did.. :)</li></ol></div>tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-76953212499322567972008-10-29T12:15:00.000+05:302008-10-29T13:01:07.434+05:30I'm gonna miss u forever..<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLPE79FgAEFi-qhbIuaY81rxI8EL0lWa8xKCoKZmUjKxyd46l83PW-7T45iHss0fWDgtC5GaluBqq5SPu8ICR86T6LHAAs2RLIjlUieEwr-QTUgNbOQhxoxeWNNIb0GHC-aGFBpjuxlMY/s1600-h/holding-hands1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLPE79FgAEFi-qhbIuaY81rxI8EL0lWa8xKCoKZmUjKxyd46l83PW-7T45iHss0fWDgtC5GaluBqq5SPu8ICR86T6LHAAs2RLIjlUieEwr-QTUgNbOQhxoxeWNNIb0GHC-aGFBpjuxlMY/s200/holding-hands1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262473712870592546" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Twas fun 2 b loved, and cared for<br />twas fun 2 b pampered endlessly..<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">To wake up 2 another sleepy voice,<br />to share each breath,across unknown distances..<br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">The thought of being cuddled into the coziness of fluffy bedspreads,with u at my side..<br />And you, waking up 2 the nothingness of the dark night,just to whisper into my ears- "baby, i love u.."<br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">I'm going 2 miss it all..had loved you with all your imperfections.. wish you had too...</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-63920021212046454772008-10-01T13:22:00.000+05:302008-10-01T13:56:45.479+05:30SAVOUR THE FLAVOUR OF.. PANI PURIS !!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjSPXokspyi7MBOx1l6cUnkaukSCfo5htdSSw1jDtYlCfN1UDRkxI4oXxuGhccgFy9rxF9FSFEpNW-PkFSg1vAzosaVE4qr9FlpJ_1h256pnp8wGU81W3-RaYyB0XFrVMjkBXsVSD3ZQI/s1600-h/Pani+Puri.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252098661086357298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjSPXokspyi7MBOx1l6cUnkaukSCfo5htdSSw1jDtYlCfN1UDRkxI4oXxuGhccgFy9rxF9FSFEpNW-PkFSg1vAzosaVE4qr9FlpJ_1h256pnp8wGU81W3-RaYyB0XFrVMjkBXsVSD3ZQI/s320/Pani+Puri.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#990000;">Being one of the Halim clan, I was labelled a foodie since the day I was born.. for there isn't a Halim who doesnt love good food.. & an indian H alim at that!</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#990000;">15 years past my relatively uneventful existence was when I became a "resident" Indian</span></strong> <span style="color:#990000;">&<span style="font-family:lucida grande;"> <strong>that was precisely when I discovered something I had unfortunately been deprived of all those years- PANI PURIS !</strong></span></span></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#990000;">Pani puris, aka golgappas, gupchups, phuchkas & whatever else the diversity of the indian subcontinent calls it, are amazing crispy, crunchy hollow balls of fried flour or suji, with spicy mashed potatoes fed into them & filled to the brim with tangy water, thanks 2 fresh tamarind, with rich indian powdered spices- which seemingly excite every tastebud that exists!</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#990000;">The day I first had it was when I realised how wide I could open my mouth 2 pop one in without spilling out the water.. honestly! Though first attempts were failed attempts, even the dripping of water into my plate was fun !</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#990000;">And the way the crispy ball cracks between the tongue and palate, giving way to the water that floods the mouth & playfully flirts around with your tastebuds.. & the hint of mashed potato beneath your molar.. pleasure beyond words !!</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#990000;">OH & by the way, they r never 2 be eaten alone cz half the fun of it comes from watching others struggle to pop it in without crushing the delicate crisp between their fingers; or all the water that drips from the corners of their mouth and down 2 their chin..oops!! even soil their shirts!! :) ... or the series of expressions that take form..</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#990000;">... mouth wide open..</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#990000;">...cheeks ballooned..</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#990000;">...lips pursed tightly to avoid "leakage" :p</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#990000;">...that hint of alarm when they stain their shirts..</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#990000;">...followed by a quick blink as they savour the tangy liquid..</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#990000;">...a swallow..</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#990000;">and then that satisfactory grin..</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#990000;">For those never sensitised to it, you can even see visible goosepimples cropping up!!</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#990000;">Need i say more than YUMMMMMMM... !!</span></strong></div>tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-44370899555851013002008-09-27T20:42:00.000+05:302008-09-27T20:48:39.337+05:30YUCK!! GREEN GROWS THE FUNGUS<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdbfYquUumFrqGrhl2E5EiaqJASEPEXH0VLcBnrHFzyu9ac9jNj6xQW4ZfpnUSuvzSaVa4mXyqlPhBgnSalCbkJLOUQ1QasfpuBdZafYaWclQyHLsw4-u3jrqvslQ2ijTYuWAwNd8bSNY/s1600-h/Image053.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250720575545383810" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdbfYquUumFrqGrhl2E5EiaqJASEPEXH0VLcBnrHFzyu9ac9jNj6xQW4ZfpnUSuvzSaVa4mXyqlPhBgnSalCbkJLOUQ1QasfpuBdZafYaWclQyHLsw4-u3jrqvslQ2ijTYuWAwNd8bSNY/s320/Image053.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><strong>This friend of mine has a knack for leaving unconsumed food material lying around for days together..(eeeooowww!!).. i managed to take a picture of stale milk she'd left on her table after clipping my nares with cloth clips!! thats fungi growing over it.. I probably wouldnt use the mug ever again.. but then she's not "me"..!!</strong></div>tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-57664263323056065682008-09-27T11:39:00.000+05:302008-09-27T12:16:29.216+05:30Things i love fighting about with Raad..!!.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_27Me4bD7LRI1CTUOVNN95sfXvgniAi-LLVNmsE6xWfaKRhS0WUSPWg1vP7ScuPWEyOlJ4RPrXDTvDLujBz849UsFxZ2leEw-MmdCRv_zLmFIX2lQyIRaKvYkqyCsNbph31PemcOG53E/s1600-h/DSC00011.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_27Me4bD7LRI1CTUOVNN95sfXvgniAi-LLVNmsE6xWfaKRhS0WUSPWg1vP7ScuPWEyOlJ4RPrXDTvDLujBz849UsFxZ2leEw-MmdCRv_zLmFIX2lQyIRaKvYkqyCsNbph31PemcOG53E/s320/DSC00011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250588553285007554" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGeozd-x_FBZkinARXWWdlU8P29_UX-Un481-WlRs7MpsxlpJZ2CFRFVNu6kY9fHcU7lvX1fkRv943GDCp9_57f7HWlcFb34qCtIhXBiR7nbviTIdNR4aj6VLneYlym6fKnw8-FpPCkwQ/s1600-h/DSC00277.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGeozd-x_FBZkinARXWWdlU8P29_UX-Un481-WlRs7MpsxlpJZ2CFRFVNu6kY9fHcU7lvX1fkRv943GDCp9_57f7HWlcFb34qCtIhXBiR7nbviTIdNR4aj6VLneYlym6fKnw8-FpPCkwQ/s320/DSC00277.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250588554054875394" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPopaEzhPHKTbIR12pmcNigzN-LdGxRfjO45G4l_VLkvHXMfCyERjK2IuT-hMHeGIBPSo88ycKwF15P1IH_FK29r2Reuf7Rw1r10HKb8qYOsPd_fLyk-nc_e0LNaNMK4pxuSyTHIlb7bE/s1600-h/DSC00279.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPopaEzhPHKTbIR12pmcNigzN-LdGxRfjO45G4l_VLkvHXMfCyERjK2IuT-hMHeGIBPSo88ycKwF15P1IH_FK29r2Reuf7Rw1r10HKb8qYOsPd_fLyk-nc_e0LNaNMK4pxuSyTHIlb7bE/s320/DSC00279.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250588560806484178" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnPSXrIzlbUT9p227_spQNllDKa29verUXe8CNAkVZNXoQVQ5Lz_cNDtYGtwTz8tRGpRwuekbH6UdjU0H5hzgX2aJ0gCWrF1F0aYjhsI1ekFgTJBy-CBdC6VvsHTyz1sju4tVexLlPVxo/s1600-h/DSC00303.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnPSXrIzlbUT9p227_spQNllDKa29verUXe8CNAkVZNXoQVQ5Lz_cNDtYGtwTz8tRGpRwuekbH6UdjU0H5hzgX2aJ0gCWrF1F0aYjhsI1ekFgTJBy-CBdC6VvsHTyz1sju4tVexLlPVxo/s320/DSC00303.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250588563180689106" border="0" /></a><br />now, thats something 2 write about.. me n Raad, my lil brother (not so lil anymore ) had been warriors in pampers.. we're no better even now,that is when we're together..minus the pamper bit ofcourse.. growing up together had its shares of love n "war".. remember fighting with him with things as trivial as..<br /><ol><li>hey! u got an extra frenchfry</li><li>who asked u 2 take my pencil</li><li>i'm watching my channel while dinner.. and b4 and after it!!<br /></li><li>india's odi is no reason 4 u to snatch the remote</li><li>u've had enough of netting..my turn 2 use the laptop</li><li>isra,shut up your crass cacophony-there's one person already singing.. n if ur singing(read croaking-i'll turn off the music)</li><li>your in my space of the bed by exactly one inch..get off this very moment</li><li>do not touch my dressing table.. i had to chop off my precious tresses thanks 2 ur "lemme be ur hairdresser today" mood...</li><li>i always take a bath first... not today mister</li><li>i'll take the window seat (in an air journey)..else i wont travel !!</li><li>do u always have to start reading the newspapr when u know i was just about 2 read it</li></ol> 12. mum ask her 2 stop blabbering with her " u need to lose wt fatty" rubbish<br />....<br />....<br />.... despite it all, growing up with fatty was pleasure in itself..!!tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-16015578333352893602008-09-27T11:34:00.000+05:302008-09-27T11:35:21.829+05:30just dropped by..LIFE IS DIVINE CHAOS....<br />something i read somewhere.. really stuck me.. holds true 4 me... n u???tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-91892548444722872842008-09-13T18:42:00.000+05:302008-09-13T18:56:18.401+05:30<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTssz8_lAfFPIWx_oMSCmccFsNMfG6ZJIyy-5fQzisezdP7771c7IfMmNm_u28z1q4pk2ww3fBbp7A_vT8w9UVVnW2OJ_qWsTOh7YjnloHnW-GrbsafdxLXAEi3-T8Yt_OtPokxgceeq8/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245496633000073218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTssz8_lAfFPIWx_oMSCmccFsNMfG6ZJIyy-5fQzisezdP7771c7IfMmNm_u28z1q4pk2ww3fBbp7A_vT8w9UVVnW2OJ_qWsTOh7YjnloHnW-GrbsafdxLXAEi3-T8Yt_OtPokxgceeq8/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div><strong>A bitter truth thats dawning upon me now- i have a limited time with my parents..despite them being the reason for my being, my all..</strong></div><br /><div><strong>Since the last 20 years, living with them was like the sun rising from the east-very batural,no big deal.. Now that i'm at hostel-physically distant from them for a major part of the year, I suddenly realise-I go home, for just.. " a vacation"!</strong></div><br /><div><strong>The next 5-10 years go into career building, followed by a job, a wedlock- when again shall i be the carefree Isra I was,with mum n papa at my side,every single second of my existence...</strong></div><br /><div><strong>I want to get back to them forever..</strong></div><br /><div><strong>Suddenly, I don't like where I am, and who I am,without them</strong></div><br /><div><strong>I want to be there for them.</strong></div><br /><div><strong>I want to look after them,</strong></div><br /><div><strong>I want to b the one to give papa his reading glasses,</strong></div><br /><div><strong>And I want to b the one to help mum with all the work..</strong></div><br /><div><strong>Life doesnt move on without them...</strong></div><br /><div><strong>MISS U MAMA, MISS U PAPA</strong></div><br /><div><strong>YOU'RE MY LIFE ............</strong> </div>tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-66443318109288530502008-09-07T18:11:00.000+05:302008-09-07T18:18:48.920+05:30FLOODS IN BIHAR<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbmG7rLnlHb9J28KR38pXlk98QHBnzG0ONTVDhqc_VdMiZ3VJoVoBD43-2ek6ajX0_umjx_fXuQAttOn17Gagi93re3XbLCp6gthABDBQfgOQ55ThOO_FQD8RRrRpQtrmZSYURV95HMsc/s1600-h/2_238318_1_248.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243260050844331890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbmG7rLnlHb9J28KR38pXlk98QHBnzG0ONTVDhqc_VdMiZ3VJoVoBD43-2ek6ajX0_umjx_fXuQAttOn17Gagi93re3XbLCp6gthABDBQfgOQ55ThOO_FQD8RRrRpQtrmZSYURV95HMsc/s320/2_238318_1_248.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br />“Please write down my name sir, i had my wife, three children, six bighas of land, two buffalos and a pair of ox.. Now, there is just me”<br />Sudarshan Shah, 45, a flood victim tells HT in Murliganj Village, Bihar </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>This was just another of the flood victims in the Bihar..trying to <span style="font-family:lucida grande;">get</span> his name entered in a journalist's notepad.. probably the biggest flood in the history of modern india..</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>isra's sad about the sorry state of affairs :( </div>tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235295434613073452.post-61727540268746259502008-09-07T18:04:00.000+05:302008-09-07T18:09:57.503+05:30HAPPY TEACHER'S DAY- 05.09.2008<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6y23XXSk7omorktLxl78CAhA7BZcSKP1TaDMdG7MQHVr8TRHF2WSATTGauxUvX5r6V1JtwETYijBHBAbBimJyTwug0q0jb2AvUpLJC83mt0-U3IHZ6Z6oMXh8-0WFlQbsfNo-DXZrr9g/s1600-h/schoolbest-teacher-slatesc1002166x2176620.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243257988447399266" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6y23XXSk7omorktLxl78CAhA7BZcSKP1TaDMdG7MQHVr8TRHF2WSATTGauxUvX5r6V1JtwETYijBHBAbBimJyTwug0q0jb2AvUpLJC83mt0-U3IHZ6Z6oMXh8-0WFlQbsfNo-DXZrr9g/s400/schoolbest-teacher-slatesc1002166x2176620.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Dear teacher<br />Accept this as a token of gratitude ,<br />From me to you..<br />I thank you for helping me recompose the priorities in life,<br />I thank you for adding dimensions to it,<br />I thank you for giving me the impetus to realise my true potential,<br />I thank you for bringing out my hidden ambitions<br />For that sympathetic pat when i was low<br />For that thumbs up when i succeeded<br />For that word of concern, when i knew not where to go<br />For that rebuke, that corrected my mistake..<br />I saw a path<br />But knew not where it led..<br />You gave me the inspiration,<br />To tread ahead..<br />Today, i know i will triumph<br />I will triumph for you are with,<br />I will triumph for you have helped me realise that almost reckless confidence in me..<br />I will triumph for you have taught me to channel that confidence to take on new challenges and old fears<br />I will triumph for, dear teacher, you are there for me with hands outstretched every time i stumble and fall.<br />I can’t’ promise i’ll rule the world..<br />I can’t promise i’ll rise above expectations..<br />I can’t promise i’ll always succeed..<br />But what i shall promise.......<br />I promise i’ll give you the achiever in me<br />I promise to never let you down<br />I promise i won’t rest till there’s work to be done<br />And i promise,<br />In this ambitious young adult<br />Lies a modern day doctor..<br />Waiting to spring out..<br />And when she does spring out;<br />She’ll be nothing short of the best<br />Because thats what you want her to be.<br />A million thanks won’t suffice for the person you’ve made me<br />Happy teacher’s day - 2008 </div>tinkerbellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15652259441087027029noreply@blogger.com9