tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33039162723322338632024-02-19T17:37:35.731-08:00Scatter Brainn. A person, usually female, that makes no goddamn sense at all; *thinks* she has her shit together; doesn't employ logic and takes rather irrational approaches toward problem solving; and commonly does dumb shit .
Courtsey:
- The Urban DictionarySANCHALIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12210199151716866741noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3303916272332233863.post-89729460238997207222012-07-22T03:13:00.001-07:002012-07-22T03:13:48.900-07:00Here comes the rain Again<div><p>First the dimming of the bright sunlight, followed by the advancing cloud cover. The whole cityscape canopied by the dark cumulo-nimbus stretching over the skyscrapers and shanty huts alike. The trees, pedestrians, hawkers, dogs, beggars and cars all shaded from the harsh glare from up above. The stirrings of hope in every soul, the hope of solace – several glances at the dark mass of cloud above, some wishing to hurry back home, some hoping to just let it rain. And then finally the first draught of wind, the first drop falling on the heated asphalt paved roads, then on the parched skin of the forehead, hands and then it comes falling down in a dizzy, the drops competing with each other to reach the roads and trickle down to the drains. And the whole city sighs in relief and takes in the sweet petrichor of water on soil. While some shield themselves with their briefcases and bags and rush towards the nearest shade, I’d rather soak in it all. Why seek shade from both the fire and ice? There is a different charm in opening your umbrella and then walking down the road with the raindrops battering against your umbrella and all around you in a mad frenzy creating a strange melody of sorts – a very natural beat and rhythm against the urban-scape.</p>
<p>“I can show you</p>
<p>That when it starts to rain</p>
<p>Everything’s the same</p>
<p>I can show you”</p>
<p>-(Rain, The Beatles 1966)</p>
<p>I have always been in love with the rains, and so the fact that my favourite time of the year happens to be Monsoon is no big revelation. Be it walking in the rain with some good music playing through the headsets, the dark cloud cover all over my head, the fresh smell of water all around; or curling up in the sofa beside the window with a good book, a cup of coffee and maybe Enigma’s Rain Song playing in the background watching the water trickle down the glass – the rain has always been magical for me, reminding me of every bit of good memory I’ve ever experienced. From dancing in the water patches, splashing water all around  with naked feet in the childhood, to the ‘adda’ and carrom sessions with friends in the windy verandah, the rain gushing down outside, complemented with delicious pakodas and chai by mom, the rain has always been the time for me to be with friends and family. But Granny’s ghost stories on a powercut rainy evening, dad coming back home with hot cutlets and the family tea sessions have long past gone. The rainy days now have changed, albeit physically. It’s usually me sharing time with friends over books and movies or with mom over coffee now. But the essence of the rain has remained – the little drops of water falling on the earth still make my time the most pleasant and magical ever. The tinge of serenity and melancholia that the raindrops colour the whole city in, is too overpowering to ignore and not to love. At least for me.</p>
<p>“Here comes the rain again</p>
<p>Falling on my head like a memory</p>
<p>Falling on my head like a new emotion</p>
<p>I want to walk in the open wind</p>
<p>I want to talk like lovers do</p>
<p>I want to dive into your ocean</p>
<p>Is it raining with you?”</p>
<p>-(Here Comes The Rain Again, Eurythmics 1984)</p>
<p>-Signing off,</p>
<p>The Scatterbrain</p>
<p>(And till then, let it rain…)</p>
</div>SANCHALIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12210199151716866741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3303916272332233863.post-78372650072528383982012-06-30T01:11:00.001-07:002012-06-30T01:11:11.785-07:007 Things I am Grateful For<div><div align="left" align="left" ><p>Ah! Another one of those seven things posts, this one. I remember initiating this blog with a very similar post. But it’s been more than a year now, and so, the fickle minded creature that I am, my likes and dislikes have also changed. And I have somehow started preferring the sedentary free evenings at home, complete with a good movie and a bowl of popcorn, much more than going out and partying away to glory, like I used to. So needless to say, while some of the things that I am grateful for, do remain the same, some new vistas of incredibly awesome options have opened up. So here goes – </p>
</div><div align="left" ><p><br></p>
</div><p>#1. My Samsung Galaxy S:</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>Yes, I am a gadget geek, but the one I have referred to above is not so much on the “hi-tech” end. I had bagged it on qualifying for a MTV show- Gang Next, and my Galaxy has been my foul and fair weather friend ever since. I log into my social networking websites when happy, listen to music when I am sad, play games when bored and surf the Google Play Shop for the amazing apps when I have nothing better to do. So, this might sound like a commercial, but an android does change your life for the better.</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br></p>
</div><p>#2. My Shorts:</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>Yes, I am inestimably grateful to the pair of beige shorts that I practically live in. It is one of my most faithful companions in the Calcutta weather – either hot and humid, or rainy and wet. And it even solves the woes of dirty jeans while wading through the vast inundated stretches of roads during the monsoon. Handy, useful, comfortable and cute – what else do you need?</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br></p>
</div><p>#3. Ulysses:</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>My copy of James Joyce’s Ulysses that I picked up from College Street, has been a source of inspiration for a long time. Well, not in the way you think it is – nothing to do with Mr. Joyce’s delightful imagination, wordplay or technique. I have completed about 1/10<sup>th</sup> of the book in the past one year, and the fact that there are people out there who have actually read and finished and understand the masterpiece and have the enthusiasm to go and celebrate Blooms-Day, surprises me to no end. Whenever I grow too conceited or complacent, one look at that Tome of Pages is enough to remind me that there are indeed far greater super human beings who did manage to finish it, while I couldn’t.</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br></p>
</div><p>#4. My Guitar:</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>Dusty, old, hand-painted, very often out of tune, and handled by a noob – yes, that is my acoustic guitar. My mother says when I play it, it often sounds like banshees screeching. But nevertheless, coming back tired from college and harping on it along with Comfortably Numb or a Dylan number in my frog throated voice gives me mental peace and a kind of rejuvenation like nothing else. So yes, you might complain, but I will just play on.</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br></p>
</div><p>#5. The Rain Gods:</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>Tlaloc(Aztec), Chac(Mayan), Tefnut(Egyptian), Hiro(Easter Island), Ganymede(Greek) – whichever name you refer to them as, I wish to convey my eternal gratefulness to these rain gods. Refreshing the soul, washing away the layers of dust and grime off the leaves and the minds – what would we do without the blessing called rain. And not to forget those amazing rainy evenings that are completed with a plate of hot ‘pakoras’ and a great song. Forget about me, what would Hollywood or Bollywood do without the rains, taking into account the plethora of movie titles, songs, situations or dances. We all are grateful for the Rains.</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br></p>
</div><p>#6. Harry Potter:</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>Yes yet again. My ultimate inspiration for living, writing and leaving a mark. It has taught me friendship, compassion, perseverance, courage, will power and the power of love. If there is something that has truly changed my life, it is that series. My heartfelt thanks to J.K.Rowling for gifting a completely magical childhood to me and millions of others.</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br></p>
</div><p>#7. : Tim Berners-Lee:</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>Tim Berners-Lee – Father of the Internet. Need I say more?</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br></p>
</div><p>And so, that’s my 7 things list. What are yours? Keep me posted.</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>Love all,</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>The Scatter Brain.</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div></div>SANCHALIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12210199151716866741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3303916272332233863.post-20044811320188147452012-06-10T04:32:00.001-07:002012-06-10T04:32:51.829-07:00What's In A Name?<div><div align="left" align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>Jason stared blankly at the screen of his laptop willing himself to pull out a plausible starting point of the events. He had the victim, the murderer, and the motive. All he needed was the method. The obvious ones that came to his mind were too common-place. He possibly could not put that into his novel. He got up, stretched, cracked his knuckles and walked towards the refrigerator. His hero, homicide cop Richard Bohm, stared at him from the posters of his novels – ‘Richard Bohm and Dark Side of the Moon’, ‘Richard Bohm and the Mason Crime’, ‘Richard Bohm in Jargon Mason Strikes Again’. He looked into the eyes of his strapping hero in a beige trench coat and smiled, “You sing your swan song now Rick. Its Jargon’s perfect crime this time.” Staring at Bohm’s weirdly named nemesis Jargon Mason, he sighed. He would miss writing the series. And to imagine his reader’s expression when they find out Rick finally meets his end at the hands of Mason. Very Sherlock Holmes-ish. Very Jason Morgan-ish in fact. Devoid of sappy happy endings. Why in fact should his story have a happy end when the whole concept of a ‘happy end’ is abstract, contrived and non-existent in the world around him?</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>He took out a bottle of his favourite Rowan’s Creek Whiskey and poured himself out a liberal amount. With the glass in his hands, he sagged into his favorite squishy armchair and went over the events in his mind. In an effort to save the life of his 9 year old daughter, Richard breaks his code of service and shoots down an unarmed henchman. His suspension from service had followed and to be honest, Richard wasn’t all disappointed. He did miss his job, but the quality time he got to spend with his daughter Cassidy was more than welcome to him. Jason wondered when exactly should he make Mason strike. When Richard goes to drop Cassidy to school? No, too many people and too open. He went over the options in his head. And then it struck him. The perfect place. The perfect time. The perfect crime. Satisfied with the idea, he got up and put on his travelling jacket and walked out of his apartment.</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>***</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>Homicide Detective Suzanne Salinger felt a pang of sadness as he looked at Jason Morgan’s undaunted figure on the chair. She had always idolized Richard Bohm and was in awe of the creator of the figure. She could not believe that such would be the turn of events. All those stories, all those crimes and Jargon Mason. Eoin Medley, her partner, had no such feelings. He sat grinning on the desk, having had the case of his life. </p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>“So, Mr. Morgan, you bludgeoned senior officer Frederick Colfer on the head and then shoved the poison darts into his neck. That is your idea of the perfect crime?”</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>“No, my dear- “ he squinted at the name tag on his shirt- “Medley, my idea of a perfect crime is where there is no motive. And I never had any. Any ‘apparent’ motive that is,” he chuckled.</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>“And what was all that writing in blood in the alley walls? That ‘R.I.P. Richard Bohm’ thing?”</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>“Oh, don’t be stupid,” Morgan snapped, “Its not supposed to be me commiting that murder is it? Its Jargon Mason doing it. That is exactly the sort of thing he would do. Don’t you have any common sense or what?”</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>Eoin shook his head, “I think I’ll let the court deal with you. You are looney aren’t you? Commiting crimes all these years just so you could write stories on them! Grow up ol’ man.”</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>Jason Morgan still had a slight smile on his face as the cops handcuffed him and started to lead him away.</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>“Mr. Morgan” Suzanne called at the last minute, unable to suppress the questions in her mind. “Mr. Morgan, I have a lot of questions for you, but just answer one before you leave. Why name Jargon Mason the way you did? I mean couldn’t a character based on yourself be named better?”</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>“Ah, you silly young people. Don’t you understand anything at all? Place the two names Jason Morgan and Jargon Mason beside each other and search up the term Anagram on the net, will you?” Jason smiled as he walked away towards the prison doors.</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div><p>THE END.</p>
<div align="left" ><p><br>
</p>
</div></div>SANCHALIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12210199151716866741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3303916272332233863.post-78218930872578766962012-04-30T13:49:00.001-07:002012-04-30T13:49:07.566-07:00The Cornucopia of Our Lives<div><p><br>
In The silence of the concrete,<br>
Steel piled upon steel,<br>
Stones and bricks together in play,<br>
And wood rendering the city still.</p>
<p>The cacophony and the birds drown<br>
The silent pleas of escape<br>
From the cornucopia of human life,<br>
Freedom from form and shape.</p>
<p>And here you can hear the fish talk,<br>
You can spy on ants homeward bound,<br>
But the noise of human breaths unheard<br>
Amidst the propaganda and sound.</p>
<p>Men breath, men fall, men laugh, men cry,<br>
We fight for all and for all we vie;<br>
Men rise, men see, men feel, men try,<br>
We join the clamour and fray and then we all die.</p>
<p>We hurt what we love and love what hurts,<br>
And then complaint 'bot Destiny's plan;<br>
We forget to live every moment here,<br>
And on each hurting word spend our life span.</p>
<p>Nor Satan nor God,nor Light nor Dark<br>
Will ever help us be;<br>
But our beating Hearts and pumping Blood,<br>
Is what will set us Free.</p>
<p>~Sanchali.</p>
<br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAqKK1AZrywKB_NvqCG-FrHNrjWVV-WM_KT3-MP9sNtQIvM-DErzNe7ebJK7NrNdfnpT9kEubZk-z66PfCs4Fyu9xY8dbrkg5cVjj-8mTHvc9qFAIxj_MD2KEN-68hEiPTWjZmuLQV3tc/' /></div>SANCHALIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12210199151716866741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3303916272332233863.post-39974094221742659212012-04-27T22:50:00.001-07:002012-04-27T22:50:31.542-07:00As Above so Below<div><p>"Quod est inferius est sicut<br>
quod est superius, et quod<br>
est superius est sicut quod<br>
est inferius"<br>
That is the basic idea I had while sketching this one randomly.<br>
As for the explanation, it's basically the liberation of mankind.<br>
The pseudo yin-yang symbol(which is actually supposed to depict balance) has the Egyptian Ankh or the symbol of death on one of its sides. The inevitability of<br>
death and decay even in the highest of beings is what I meant to show by that. The roots and leaves growing downwards is the search for the establishment of a New world order amidst the chaos of religion. W hile the drawing, if you see linearly from left to right, shows the development of mankind, his spiritual destruction and his want for enlightenment..<br>
yeah, that was my basic idea I guess..<br>
don't know how far I have been able to explain it.</p>
<p>Now he you parallel this explanation, this sketch and the quote from the Emerald Tablet that I have quoted above (and which actually means "what is above is below and what is below stems from what is above") I hope you will realize what I had wanted to depict in this sketch.</p>
<br/><img src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-MC51xYyz7t0/T5uFA9YkrfI/AAAAAAAAALc/qatWtL7IHtA/2012-04-28%25252000.36.26_Hagrid_Clean.png' /></div>SANCHALIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12210199151716866741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3303916272332233863.post-39727269639336582062012-02-13T09:04:00.000-08:002012-02-13T09:04:26.112-08:00Ek Main Aur Ekk Tu :: A Monday Morning Treat<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Frankly speaking, when I went to watch </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ek Main aur Ekk Tu</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, all I was interested in was watching the lovable Imran Khan in action again. Coming from the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Dharma</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> stable, I had expected it to be a boy meets girl story. But half an hour into it, I was pleasantly surprised by this new boy meets girl stor</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">y. The accidental marraige in a drunken stupor in Las Vegas is but a gimmick to get the story ahead, and the movie has nothing similar to Hollywood flicks like What Happens in Vegas or The Proposal.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<div><a href="http://media.glamsham.com/download/wallpaper/movies/images/e/ek-main-aur-ekk-tu-02-12x9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://media.glamsham.com/download/wallpaper/movies/images/e/ek-main-aur-ekk-tu-02-12x9.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The story begins with Rahul Kapoor(Imran Khan), scion of the Kapoor family business loosing his job of an architect and landing up unemployed in Vegas. A meeting with the psychiatrist leads him to encounter Riana Braganza( Kareena Kapoor) and what follows is the high strung mamma's boy going for a whirlwind of a ride with the spunky care-free Riana and falling in love over a Kuch Kuch Hota Hai song. They sing, dance and have fun in a way you and me would, and not run with open arms in fields and fall into each other's arms. But Riana brings much more than just fun to Rahul's life. Having led all his life under the diktat's of his high class socialite parents (played brilliantly by Ratna Pathak Shah and Boman Irani), he finally decides to loosen up and bursts out about his lost job, his accidental marriage, a certain wife of a certain family friend, that he prefers eating with the fork and not chopsticks and what not at a dinner party! In fact he learns to be happy being 'Perfectly Average'. But when cupid strikes, things go awry, and a sad song later, they come back together. But that is where the brilliance of the movie lies. They come back in a way but they don't actually. Well, you'll have to catch the movie to know the rest as I am not giving anything out here.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<a href="http://urbanasian.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/Ek-Main-Aur-Ekk-Tu-Movie-Stills-22.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://urbanasian.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/Ek-Main-Aur-Ekk-Tu-Movie-Stills-22.jpeg" width="200" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As for the lead pair, they do justice to their roles. Riana Braganza is a shade of Jab We Met's Geet and Kareena Kapoor plays it with aplomb. Imran Khan is a riot! From the deadpan to </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">a cluelessly trapped bachelor, or a man who has just discovered himself </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">to the frustrated and confused-lost guy - he plays a brilliant Rahul - someone all the girls would like to take to their mother.Their chemistry is informal and affable- just what the script demands.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<a href="http://www.cinemamasti.com/wp-content/uploads/Ek-Main-Aur-Ekk-Tu-Movie-Posters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://www.cinemamasti.com/wp-content/uploads/Ek-Main-Aur-Ekk-Tu-Movie-Posters.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The plot, despite being not that deep, manages to hold the audience through some great slice-of-life moments. The cinematography - well... even a noob with a 3mp camera can make LV look like a million bucks! Amit Trivedi's music is hummable, with 'Aunty Ji', 'Aahatein' and the title track standing out. And to top it all, the short running time of 2 hours really make things click.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">After a long time, I watched a rom-com that actually managed to hold my attention and make me smile. Bunking the Monday morning classes were definitely worth it. If nothing, go for the feel good factor that the film manages to share in plenty this Valentine's Day.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/VAfY-OCcqNs?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Love,</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The Scatterbrain</span></span></div>SANCHALIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12210199151716866741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3303916272332233863.post-62335591093388716582011-10-01T00:27:00.000-07:002011-10-01T00:46:23.852-07:00:: DURGA PUJAS ~ food, friends, family, nostalgia ::<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.liveindia.com/delhi/durgapuja3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="196" src="http://www.liveindia.com/delhi/durgapuja3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://static.panoramio.com/photos/original/874345.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://static.panoramio.com/photos/original/874345.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>The earliest memory I have of the Durga Pujas is watching the awe-inspiring idols sitting on the shoulders of my dad. I remember waking up to the beats of the <i>dhak, </i>with the tempting smell of home made <i>malpua</i><i>s</i> wafting from the kitchen. On Mahalaya, we would be up at four,turning the knobs of the cranky radio to set it to the right frequency to catch the songs and the programme. Puja used to be waking up early in the morning, dressing up in new clothes, taking the blessings of the elders, and then running out for the daily share of <i>adda</i>, games, <i>prasad</i>, to the <i>para</i> <i>panda</i>l. After a short rest in the noon(for which my mother had to literally lock me up in a room), it would be dressing up in new clothes again, sitting near the pandal with my <i>para</i> friends, playing a<i>ntakshari</i> and dumb-charade, ocassionally sipping on Coca-Cola and munching on Uncle Chips. Late evening, mom and dad would usually give in to my constant begging and take me out to visit the nearby idols. Enthusiast that he always was, Dad would be ready with all the information on the best of idols and pandals nearby, and <i>Saptami </i>and <i>Nabami</i> mornings would be spent on visiting those, and then returning home with packets of fried rice and chilli-chicken. And the most special of them all would be the <i>astami</i> mornings. With a good few hours spent on draping mom's oversized saris on myself and holding it up with safety-pins(so many of them that I would be like a mini pin-cushion), and then give <i>anjali</i>, all the while trying in vain to curb my hunger(we were supposed to fast till the <i>anjali</i>). We would wait eagerly for granny to sneak out of the pandal with plates of sweets and fruits and distribute it among our large group - we were about 12 kids in the neighbourhood if my memory is not failing me. Comparing dresses, bragging about the new hindi songs that you memorized,gossiping about that cute boy in class whom you had a crush on, more cold drinks and more chips, occasional <i>phuchka</i> treats by someone in the para, running about and distributing the <i>thalis</i> of <i>prasad </i>to the nearby households and that innate sense of freedom for those five days - Durga Puja was inevitably the most awaited and anticipated festival of the year.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.thehindu.com/multimedia/dynamic/00005/DURGA_PUJA_CAVE_5830f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="http://www.thehindu.com/multimedia/dynamic/00005/DURGA_PUJA_CAVE_5830f.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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With the festivity season setting in, it is almost in a nostalgic mood that I look back at what the Pujas meant to me for the first twelve-fourteen years of my life. This year, Mahalaya, which marks the start of the season of the Goddess, was a welcome holiday spent in watching the latest movies at the house of my best friend. We gorged on burgers, pastries, popcorn, Chinese delicacies and lazed around the whole day before returning home in the evening. For the last few years, the Pujas have been pretty much the same - waking up late, having some breakfast, sitting with the laptop to check update statuses and tweets, surfing through the newspaper to see if some good movie is playing in the plex, then dressing up in those branded jeans and tees or boutique made kurtis, balancing on the high heels of the new shoes, or just slipping into the comfort zone of the converses, and then meeting up with school and college friends at CCD, KFC, HHI, Tantra or even Maddox Square. The adda sessions usually culminate with dance sessions at Underground or Venom, or even random photography sessions. Food is usually from the various buffets hosted by the city restaurants, wrapped up with Mamma-mia gelatoes and CCD floats. The dhak beats serve as sudden unexpected souce of alarm when in the mornings you suddenly wake up and realize, oh, its the pujas.Family time is the Navami luncheon with mom at Park Street and coming back home with packets of food, like old times. Para friends have become practically non-existent. Pujas have become an occasion for meeting friends and eating good food. Phuchka still reigns supreme though.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The reason I wrote this is not to pass any value judgement. Its not that I hate what I did back then or what I am doing right now. Both are fun in its own sweet way. The only discontent in my mind is that I no longer get to sit on Dad's bike and visit the pandals in the morning and come home to taste the yummy coconut jaggery balls(nadus) concocted by granny. Yes, some voids can never be filled.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKLaoRYrAzHULBU3nV2dXuxJym8tcW0IKm8E0Sbk2eOdD-3XNVbUiBG8OITO3vAFMHbKsZ_vUXsDzM62fV4QzCuDLk64m1vRWhlD0yvZI7e9IHMglzPo1brUBpggm81gir2PhgjYbqYkU/s1600/DSC05227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKLaoRYrAzHULBU3nV2dXuxJym8tcW0IKm8E0Sbk2eOdD-3XNVbUiBG8OITO3vAFMHbKsZ_vUXsDzM62fV4QzCuDLk64m1vRWhlD0yvZI7e9IHMglzPo1brUBpggm81gir2PhgjYbqYkU/s320/DSC05227.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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Image courtesies: Google Image.SANCHALIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12210199151716866741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3303916272332233863.post-24291982455931015402011-09-22T09:56:00.000-07:002011-09-22T10:01:17.895-07:00:: THE FAILS OF BEING A FAILURE ::<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>"He used to be a singer in a rock and roll band.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>He would write the songs and I'd tremble at his hand but oh, la laa.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>He lost poetic ethic and his songs were pathetic, and he's a failure now.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>He used to be the life and soul of everyone around.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>You'd never catch him looking up and never see him down but oh, la laa.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>He couldn't raise a smile oh, not for a while, and he's a failure now.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Don't cry child, you've got so much more to live for.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Don't cry child, you've got something I would die for</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>And if it comes to the rain, just be glad you'll smile again</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>'Cause so many don't. </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>And so many go unnamed."</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4f4f4f; font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 19px; font-weight: 800;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Laura Marling's song Failure, more or less summarizes my blog post today. So, why failure as a topic out of the blue, you might ask. And I would reply why not summarize the condition of the whole world in a world - FAIL! Too pessimistic? Maybe, but not really. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lets first see what failure actually is -</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> "</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Failure</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> refers to the state or </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Condition" style="-webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration: none;" title="Condition"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">condition</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> of not meeting a desirable or intended objective, and may be viewed as the opposite of </span><a class="extiw" href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/success" style="-webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial; color: #3366bb; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none;" title="wikt:success"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">success</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">". Too heavy? You bet! That was copied straight out of Wikipedia. To me, failure is basically not getting what you thought you would get. You mug a lot the week before the exam, give a thumbs up paper and when the results are hung on the college notice board, you feel like - Damn! I passed, but I am a failure... And in another instance, you don't even bother to study for the impending exam, give a crap paper and you end up getting a 40, when you didn't even think you would get a double digit score. You say "Yeah I failed, but who gives a damn!"</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My point, friends, is that Failure is a very subjective topic. What is failure to one person, is success to another. We fail because we think we have failed. That is the essential difference between having FAILED, and being a FAILURE. When we think we have "failed", its the way the world sees us. And when we think we are a failure, its how we see ourselves.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ever seen an ant carrying load on its back? It walks, stops, drops its load, picks it up and walks again. Yes, it had failed, but it had not allowed itself to become a failure. Its just that self-confidence that matters. You never know, who might love those very qualities in you which you think made you fail. You are soft spoken, shy, can't express what you want to say exactly - you think you failed because of all these. Somewhere in the corner of this world, there is someone, who likes you just because of that shyness. Someone, who wants to shed their fits of rage and overt expressiveness to be just like you.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Failing is one of the most subjective attributes you will find, like most human attributes are. Do you always love what everyone else loves, see something the same way everyone else sees? Then why think yourself a failure when everyone else does? After all, isn't "We are all unique" a very true cliche? Fail, but don't be a failure. Wouldn't you like to celebrate that success party with toasts to every fails you have crumpled and left behind? So, in true Bollywood style, just place your palm on your heart and say All is Well... it may not do you miracles, but that extra dose of confidence never hurts.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- by a failed blogger, trying to rise above the failures.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cheerio :)</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://slapfish.com/failure/failure1024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://slapfish.com/failure/failure1024.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You are responsible for your failures, and you are responsible for your successes too. Its upto you what you choose.</td></tr>
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</span></span></div>SANCHALIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12210199151716866741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3303916272332233863.post-65237938621825168702011-09-19T09:46:00.000-07:002011-09-19T10:15:35.430-07:00:: RANDOM GIBBERISH ::<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>And its one of those days again - when I have one of these sudden irresistible urge to put up a really funny and interesting blog post and then end up looking blankly at the screen for twenty minutes, excavating the depths of the brain for some sane ideas and then finally closing down the computer due to utter infertility of the useless brain. With the nice, 'romantic' and very un-Calcutta-ish weather outside, all I can do is down cups of coffee and check and recheck my the Facebook home page with random gibberish floating through my brain... So, how about a sneak peek into what's on my mind -<br />
<ul><li>For the first time today, I had to wade through knee-deep water at Park Street - a first time occurrence if my memory is not failing me. While I detested the slimy dog-poop and god-knows-what-else mixed water, I cant deny that walking like that with your friends is fun [ though later on you feel like crying with a single glance at your jeans].</li>
</ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://a8.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/318907_2429132214295_1431287300_32894908_54981448_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://a8.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/318907_2429132214295_1431287300_32894908_54981448_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br />
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</div><ul><li>Has Calcutta suddenly shifted to the Equatorial Zone or something? What's with the daily torrential rain in the afternoon? Or may be with yesterday's earthquake, and all this rain, some sadistic omnipotent person sitting right up there is trying to shout out - "Hey, 2012 is almost here you know... I'm gonna drown you all... Bwahahaha(*evil laughter*)!! ".</li>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.cartoonstock.com/lowres/dco0135l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.cartoonstock.com/lowres/dco0135l.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Courtesy: www.cartoonstock.com</td></tr>
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</div><ul><li>What were the "officials" actually thinking when they decided to change Calcutta to Kolkata and West Bengal to Paschimbanga? What? Serious nomenclature lessons needed her in the state.</li>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.wikiind.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/Paschim-Banga.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://www.wikiind.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/Paschim-Banga.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Courtesy: www.wikiind.com</td></tr>
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</div><ul><li>Am I really spastic or does everyone have initial problems in mastering the barre chords while playing the guitar? And talking of the guitar, I am planning to graffiti on the black wood with white. Any idea with what do I do that? Poster colour?</li>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2010/211/4/4/BAKA_elves_cant_play_guitar_by_Kais_a_ninja.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2010/211/4/4/BAKA_elves_cant_play_guitar_by_Kais_a_ninja.jpg" width="262" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Courtesy: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; line-height: 15px;">kais-a-ninja.deviantart.com</span></td></tr>
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</div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I should really get on with reading the never-ending notes on Paradise Lost given in class. And now that I brought it up, how would you not love someone who says stuff like - " It is better to reign in hell than serve in heaven", or, "T</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">he mind is its own place, and in itself / Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven" and</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> "</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen!". If Milton was indeed trying to glorify God, why did he even give such lines to Satan?</span></span></li>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9aRM5kun8h6yRC4kwMQSsjtl0qKlzxV2x_bTlI3KtA5sMEzHFeGtNrDS305Q2qn4Dwl1wKlDj6ubHjQ1kFtSNQ6QyRRokCFIDsaVtu8A0C87PJjgBVqMBlkFAs3uanxWguv_67nk2z_I/s1600/Lucifer+Non+Serviam.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9aRM5kun8h6yRC4kwMQSsjtl0qKlzxV2x_bTlI3KtA5sMEzHFeGtNrDS305Q2qn4Dwl1wKlDj6ubHjQ1kFtSNQ6QyRRokCFIDsaVtu8A0C87PJjgBVqMBlkFAs3uanxWguv_67nk2z_I/s320/Lucifer+Non+Serviam.jpeg" width="230" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Courtesy:<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; line-height: 15px;">foolishnessntears.blogspot.com</span></td></tr>
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</span></span></div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">With everyone saying that they can smell the Durga Puja in the air, the only thing I can smell is the Petrichor(smell of the rain, silly), the one month long vacation ahead and the coffee brewing in the kitchen... mmmm....</span></li>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiki_nvqFDr_BOsKtf6znfKwKK9igf4Z8rBFKq8g7t_5WuTd3x8OFM_-j7VS9hjbdBtbfoXodjtCkawVzbbLYys1a9_nf_vNGtLcftqmTyq8f4OUXFSAOsxnRiVlANYFM2LGCAUEZNfXS8/s1600/coffee2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiki_nvqFDr_BOsKtf6znfKwKK9igf4Z8rBFKq8g7t_5WuTd3x8OFM_-j7VS9hjbdBtbfoXodjtCkawVzbbLYys1a9_nf_vNGtLcftqmTyq8f4OUXFSAOsxnRiVlANYFM2LGCAUEZNfXS8/s320/coffee2.jpg" width="229" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Courtesy:<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; line-height: 15px;">susanna1980.blogspot.com</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">I really think fasting is the 'in' thing </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">in India right now. After Sharmila Erom and Anna, its Modi now. Soon it will be like -X "Mom I want that new bag". Mom - "No, do whatever you feel like." X - "Ok, I will go on a fast". Mom - "Uh...erm.. how much is it beta? I think it wont be a bad buy afterall."</span></span></li>
</ul><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://walkingthefenceline.files.wordpress.com/2010/01/fasting-longest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="232" src="http://walkingthefenceline.files.wordpress.com/2010/01/fasting-longest.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Courtesy: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; line-height: 15px;">walkingthefenceline.wordpress.com</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A photography tour to the North East. With two friends, hiking and camping gear, phones switched off, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">a Canon S95 IS camera, roasted meat, bonfire - life WOULD have been so good. The closest I can do is probably a photography tour to the Sundarbans.</span></li>
</ul><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://img.ehowcdn.co.uk/article-page-main/ehow/images/a08/3r/vf/good-foods-bonfire-800x800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://img.ehowcdn.co.uk/article-page-main/ehow/images/a08/3r/vf/good-foods-bonfire-800x800.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Courtesy :<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; line-height: 15px;">ehow.co.uk</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And it is Literaria'11 tomorrow,finally. The St.Xaviers College English Department Fest. We are so gonna rock, provided the rain gods do not start having their own little share of fun in drowning us in the deluge.</span></li>
</ul><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://photos.cc.fbcdn.net/hphotos-cc-snc7/s720x720/307640_2397980515471_1429752702_32854980_657801778_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://photos.cc.fbcdn.net/hphotos-cc-snc7/s720x720/307640_2397980515471_1429752702_32854980_657801778_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Courtesy:www.facebook.com/andy90</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And after all this nonsense, I suddenly feel like reading Kurt Cobain's death note once more. The man - the voice - the words - the legend - the inspiration and Boddah. For those who haven't yet read it, just go through this once - <a href="http://www.thesundayindian.com/article_print.php?article_id=15041">Kurt Cobain's Suicide Note</a>. Who says rockstars are not poets?</span></li>
</ul><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.kurtcobain.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/02/the_note.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.kurtcobain.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/02/the_note.jpg" width="293" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Courtesy:<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 15px;">www.kurtcobain.com</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><div><br />
</div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And till then, adios until I come back with some more fragments from my Scatter brain.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sincerely,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A true scatter brain.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">A/N: In case of any copyright infringement of the pictures on this post, please contact me @ sancho.dbest@gmail.com. The picture will be taken down immediately.</span></span></div>SANCHALIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12210199151716866741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3303916272332233863.post-20268358622408837302011-08-31T09:00:00.001-07:002011-09-19T09:56:35.648-07:00:: THE EXAM SEASON ::<div>Dear good sunny World,<br />
Its the end of August and inevitably I find myself looking ahead at the bleak coming week, dreading it as usual. Its a pattern my brain has fallen into maybe...end of August, the start of the exams... Somehow even before the routine was put up in the college notice board, I knew what was coming, or rather my subconscious did...<br />
All around me were the familiar faces dunked into books and photocopying notes...the usual haunts in the library changed from the Fiction section to the Reference section. But my brain failed to make my body react. I knew I had on notes... I knew nothing, but still I could not make myself up and see the routine or enquire about the syllabus.. After endless persuasion by a dear friend, I took the pains of traversing all the way up to the second floor of the college housing the grand computerized central library. When I came out, instead of notes on Milton's Paradise Lost, philology and Great Expectations, I found a fat copy of Stephen King's Under the Dome in my hand. My friend gave up all hopes on me thereafter...<br />
With a week to go for the exams that are supposed to test our 'knowledge' and ability of the language, I finally bunked college and stayed up at home to 'study'.<br />
To tell the truth, I did study to a degree. Infact now I know that Lake of Fire is not just a Nirvana song, its a part of Milton's epic; English is even lesser original than I had even imagined-god knows it borrows truckloads from French, Scandinavian and Latin; and that Japanese Manga cartoons are damn difficult to draw, 'We don't Need no Education' is very easy to play on the guitar, 'Under the Dome' is truly Epic in the literal sense of the word, Google Plus can never compete with Facebook, Iridescent is my favourite Linkin Park number... get the drift?<br />
And in such an elevated state of mind I will in to write the examinations... another exam season will come to an end soon... I will again promise to myself to sit with my books at least once... And once more I will drift off into a world that's essentially my own and necessarily free of all lines of examinations.<br />
~sincerely,<br />
A harassed and worn out student.</div>SANCHALIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12210199151716866741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3303916272332233863.post-6175775467615087282011-06-25T23:37:00.001-07:002011-06-26T01:54:24.471-07:00:: MONSOON DIARIES #1 :: Sudden Cloudburst ::<div><p>And another season sets in,<br>
Spreading through the haphazard maze<br>
Of stone,brick,concrete and life,<br>
And the usual rush of hopes<br>
And scattered dreams<br>
Sheltered from the dusty sun.</p>
<p>The melting bricks find solace<br>
In the sudden rain of the afternoon,<br>
Pouring in through the gaps<br>
In the canopied sky,<br>
Crowded with tower after tower,<br>
All vying to reach the daystar.</p>
<p>Somewhere down across the labyrinthine road,<br>
Someone throws the window open,<br>
Taking in the smell of dust and rain<br>
Wafting in through the rusted grills,<br>
Setting the air free<br>
From the shackles of monotony.</p>
<p>And in the lane opposite,<br>
The distraught lad<br>
Finds alleviation in the dusty guitar,<br>
Not strummed since<br>
He had finally come to face the world,<br>
And realize its potential.</p>
<p>In a city where discord is the only harmony,<br>
Similar smiles of ease<br>
Spreads across the convoluted<br>
Works of iron-<br>
All together,all alike,<br>
All in a similar sense of relief.</p>
<p>The sudden deluge<br>
Surprises the grime coated foliage,<br>
Washing them off<br>
To the rich emerald and bich hue;<br>
All looking up in a silent prayer<br>
Of whispered thanking to Tlaloc and Chaac.</p>
<p>The strange mechanical humming<br>
Of the monstrous growth of metal and bricks<br>
Suddenly seems amputed<br>
By the congruous sound of every single<br>
Drop of rain<br>
Striking the black air of the city.</p>
<p>But then all suddenly break out of the reverie,<br>
And abstract technicolour dreams<br>
And are back to stacks of files to be transfered,<br>
Open trigonometry text-books,<br>
Whistles of the pressure cooker in the background,<br>
And the din of metal hitting metal.</p>
<p>And I still search in absolute vain<br>
For verses to pen and words to explain.</p>
<p>SANCHALI GHOSH<br>
26TH JULY, 2011<br>
______________x___x_________________</p>
</div>SANCHALIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12210199151716866741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3303916272332233863.post-18561239314544006552011-06-10T23:02:00.000-07:002011-06-10T23:11:27.726-07:00:: RAINDROP MEMORIES ::<div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I was jolted back into reality from my dreamland as the howling wind gathered speed. The sky was a strange violetish blue, with interspersed hues of orange and gray. Weirdly, I could never understand if it was cloudy during the night. All I could make out were patches of purple, blue, gray and the in-betweens. Now, which part was the cloud and which wasn’t was beyond my comprehension. I looked at the space in front of me – two thick volumes of The History of English literature by David Daiches, a stack of half written, doodled in and almost illegible notes on metaphysical poetry, my cellular phone and an open copy with just two lines on it – </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“<i>I look up at the open skies<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><i><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel your twinkling eyes</i>”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I couldn’t remember if I had given it up as a bad job or had just fallen asleep like that. It was three in the morning. Not the best of times to tax your gray matter. I would attempt finishing that on the next day I guessed. What was more important was that I had missed four precious study hours just a day before the Honours examination. Since the rest of the year was spent on Facebook, Youtube, with the guitar and in pursuit of happiness, these few days before the exam were absolutely crucial.. I pulled the notes stack closer and stared at it for two minutes owlishly. No, it definitely was not making any sense. My English teacher was probably reading more into it than the poet had intended to express. I could not concentrate. The shrieking wind did not exactly help my cause either. I got up to drink some water and freshen myself. On the way, I checked on my mother sleeping peacefully and my pet kitten curled up at the corner of the bed. No exams in their life. What bliss. When I got back to my study, the strong smell of rain on dry earth caught me unawares. It was much too strong. I inhaled deeply taking in the scent. What was this called again? I Googled on my phone and Wikipedia came up with the word <i>Petrichor</i>. Who cared anyway. Nonetheless, I scribbled<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>it down at a corner of the copy. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Thick broad raindrops invaded my table. I hastily swept the books aside. This weather was definitely not meant for any kind of studies. I took up the copy and went through the two lines. Nah! It sounded too corny; almost like a punk pop song. I suddenly imagined a certain blonde girl jumping on the stage, mic in hand, in weird punk attire and gothic eye makeup and singing those to lines. Definitely not the best of inspirations to carry on the lyrics. I thought of scratching it out. But somehow I could not. I left some blank space and started all over again – </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“ <i>The raindrops invade my room,<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 81pt;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">They fall on the pages strewn,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 81pt;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I think it is weird,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 81pt;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">But they lighten up the gloom.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 81pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 81pt;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Erasing every thought<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 81pt;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Of the memories I’ve sought,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 81pt;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Maybe all those golden times<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 81pt;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Were indeed flawed.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 81pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 81pt;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Because they drench me,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 81pt;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Dissolves the memory,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 81pt;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">‘Cause they lock up the door<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 9pt; margin-right: 9pt; margin-top: 0in; text-indent: 81pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><i>And melts away the key</i>.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-indent: -81pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">A fat raindrop pattered straight onto my copy. It fell on the word ‘<i>thought</i>’. The word turned a light gray, almost bloated. And then another tiny drop fell on top of it. The impact dissolved the ‘<i>oug</i>’ of the word and droplets splashed right on trop of ‘<i>memories</i>’ and ‘<i>times</i>’. Another drop. ‘<i>times</i>’ was eliminated. Some splashes later, ‘<i>gloom</i>’, ‘<i>door</i>’ and ‘<i>key</i>’ dissolved. But the drop on ‘<i>memories</i>’ was still undisturbed. If it stopped raining, the paper would dry up and the memories would turn back to being normal gain. Panic seized me. I pushed the copy closer to the window. But not a drop more on ‘<i>memories</i>’. It was time for desperate measure. I took a pencil and swirled the drop on ‘<i>memories</i>’. That did the trick. I had accomplished what nature could not. The black ink swirled in the water and turned into a dirty mess. I sat back and smiled to myself. I had done it. The next moment, I felt utterly stupid. I had spent the last ten minutes writing the lines and the next fifteen in washing it away. Was I even normal? I wondered if I should laugh or cuss. I didn’t do either. I just patiently took out a fresh sheet of paper and wrote down the lines again from memory. And then added one last verse – </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“ <i>The raindrops try as they might,<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-indent: -81pt;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They just couldn’t ignite,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-indent: -81pt;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Me and my weird wonderings<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-indent: -81pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><i><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Tonight</i>.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-indent: -81pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-indent: -81pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">THE END.</span></div></div><div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxk1cWYfXFgEpq5lfcVw2WejJA_MlTpO1VPI9HdvKL8AL9sbQEp9aZit7XR6RrqrO7Vnsm9vUcT_vRII117vMSkScmq_USoPCpGZbltnlODGSYKxrlVRzAW_jzxV03ovkBIy4OS4C1fOM/s1600/Rainwater+memories.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxk1cWYfXFgEpq5lfcVw2WejJA_MlTpO1VPI9HdvKL8AL9sbQEp9aZit7XR6RrqrO7Vnsm9vUcT_vRII117vMSkScmq_USoPCpGZbltnlODGSYKxrlVRzAW_jzxV03ovkBIy4OS4C1fOM/s320/Rainwater+memories.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><br />
</div>SANCHALIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12210199151716866741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3303916272332233863.post-51399694937782778692011-05-21T22:25:00.000-07:002011-05-21T22:25:39.590-07:00INDIFFERENCE OF A SOMEONE<div class="MsoNormal">I have been walking,</div><div class="MsoNormal">Crossing the paved causeway</div><div class="MsoNormal">With amazement in my eyes;</div><div class="MsoNormal">A dual feeling</div><div class="MsoNormal">Of awe and wariness.</div><div class="MsoNormal">But more than anything</div><div class="MsoNormal">It was this gnawing </div><div class="MsoNormal">Indifference.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sipping the warm afternoon coffee,</div><div class="MsoNormal">Trying to let the world</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sink into me,</div><div class="MsoNormal">Trying to comprehend</div><div class="MsoNormal">All that mattered.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjriTtrZwkvZyD1IcLHT-v9Q3A00IZhBtmEsXFcmvKNZOFMqgc11oJYGXH3SMUwT2MQd84ByB1JHM8vkZhpS-o7uMu56Jxj8mS5m5_MmQF5LCD8grFUJx0nYxT9zGNoDBvybIzyQRPS-4c/s1600/existence%252Cexistentialism%252Cinspiration%252Clife%252Cmessage%252Cposter%252Cquote%252Cquotes%252Csartre%252Ctext%252Ctypography%252Cword%252Cart%252Cwords-1a5e24499ffb9368e0004e53d8473c7f_m.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjriTtrZwkvZyD1IcLHT-v9Q3A00IZhBtmEsXFcmvKNZOFMqgc11oJYGXH3SMUwT2MQd84ByB1JHM8vkZhpS-o7uMu56Jxj8mS5m5_MmQF5LCD8grFUJx0nYxT9zGNoDBvybIzyQRPS-4c/s200/existence%252Cexistentialism%252Cinspiration%252Clife%252Cmessage%252Cposter%252Cquote%252Cquotes%252Csartre%252Ctext%252Ctypography%252Cword%252Cart%252Cwords-1a5e24499ffb9368e0004e53d8473c7f_m.jpg" width="200" /></a>I have failed.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have been living before I was born – </div><div class="MsoNormal">A life of pulsating energy,</div><div class="MsoNormal">Never knowing that</div><div class="MsoNormal">I would die with my</div><div class="MsoNormal">Birth into nothingness.</div><div class="MsoNormal">The dead yellow macabre</div><div class="MsoNormal">Leaves of Autumn</div><div class="MsoNormal">Too shy away from my company.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Neither do the long stretch </div><div class="MsoNormal">Of the cemetery walls</div><div class="MsoNormal">Agree to share their</div><div class="MsoNormal">Hidden secrets.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Everything passes by,</div><div class="MsoNormal">Everyone passes by,</div><div class="MsoNormal">I stand watching,</div><div class="MsoNormal">Letting it all pass,</div><div class="MsoNormal">Letting it all flow,</div><div class="MsoNormal">Tied up with my</div><div class="MsoNormal">Indifference.</div><div class="MsoNormal">What if it does not</div><div class="MsoNormal">Matter?</div><div class="MsoNormal">Even if it does,</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am no one, nothing,</div><div class="MsoNormal">To make it all stop,</div><div class="MsoNormal">Stand and stare me</div><div class="MsoNormal">In the face.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 32.25pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 32.25pt; text-indent: -21.75pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span><!--[endif]-->Sanchali Ghosh</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 32.25pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 32.25pt; text-indent: -21.75pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span><!--[endif]-->21<sup>st</sup> May2011<span style="font-family: "Max\0027s Handwritin";"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 32.25pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 32.25pt; text-indent: -21.75pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Max\0027s Handwritin";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 32.25pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 32.25pt; text-indent: -21.75pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span><!--[endif]-->SG ║▌▌║█ ▌║▌║▌║║▌▌▌║█║</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 32.25pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 32.25pt; text-indent: -21.75pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span><!--[endif]-->© 1 5 0 3 1 9 8 8 0 2 0 6 7</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 32.25pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 32.25pt; text-indent: -21.75pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span><!--[endif]-->copyright Sanchali 2011<span style="font-family: "Max\0027s Handwritin";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>SANCHALIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12210199151716866741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3303916272332233863.post-50489715957724387352011-05-20T21:58:00.000-07:002011-05-20T21:58:06.251-07:00:: THE JOURNEY NEVER ENDS ::<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">( 1 )</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;"><br />
</div><h2>Persia::1275</h2><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">She: How could you?! How could you kill him?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">He: I love you princess and that’s all that matters…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">She: And I loved him… I loved Knight Raphael… and you dirty Shaman… you killed him…!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">He: I did princess…I was craving for the sweet taste of revenge…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">She: Revenge? Revenge for what?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">He: He stole your heart in front of my eyes… how could I tolerate that princess? All that matters is he is no more…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">She: So what if he is no more? I loved him and will always love him… you can never get me…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">He: What are you going to do? Kill yourself princess? Go ahead… I will follow you…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">She: No… I will get you hanged for what you’ve done…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">He: But then, there’s a problem…I cannot possibly leave you alone here princess…I will have to solve the problem…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">Her blood created intricate web like patterns on the cold stone floor… flowing from the deep gash where the silver dagger had ripped her apart…it flowed, incessantly… squeezing her dry…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">He looked at his hands… the stench of blood made him nauseous… he would have to follow her as soon as possible… get hanged in public or follow her himself? He made the decision. He wrenched apart the knife from her body and made a final stab… how easy this was… three stabs and a new journey altogether… freedom? No.. he will have to follow her… it will be long before he gets that freedom…. He would finish this journey…no matter what.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">( 2 )</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;"><br />
</div><h2>New Jersey:: 2006</h2><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">She: How are you?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">He: I am fine, lucky that the knife didn’t puncture my liver…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">She: I don’t understand what’s got to him… he was my best friend…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">He: And he tried to kill you too…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">She nodded mutely.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">He: He loves you…that’s what it is…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">She: So what? I love you…and just because of that, he tried to kill you…he’s a psychopath…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">He: So, what happened?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">She: Its still quite vague in my mind… I remember he tried to stab me and then a scuffle…the knife was in my hand…and then, its all blank…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">He: Tomorrow’s his funeral right?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">She: Who cares anyway… he was my friend though…I remember he said something about following me and finishing the journey and all…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">He: Forget it now… you need rest…. It must have been a traumatic experience for you too… and as for his journey, he can finish it in hell….</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">( 3 )</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;"><br />
</div><h2>India::2098</h2><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">“<i>Sheesh</i>… I did love that girl… she never realized…”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">“You… you killed her just because she loved me and not you?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">“Fair enough…don’t you think?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">“You should be…. You should be..”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">“What? Brutally killed? Kill me…I will be with her though… you know what I feel… I have been trying to follow her… to get her for long… for years… centuries…millenniums maybe…and she still loves you… my poor stupid girl…I regret killing her… I regret… this means I will have to go on again…”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">“Go on? What are you talking about you bloody psychopath?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">“You won’t understand… its been too long…maybe fourth time lucky…”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">“Fourth time? I will kill you here and now…”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">“I guess its your turn now… its been myself the first time and she did it the second time…kill me this time…you do it…’coz it doesn’t matter anyway you know…the same journey…just a different map…”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitteWROAKWnfw2JiRmpWXnnxU7lbhP1-bmKHHzagvMoo1AsAxyQsOcbQFZw4qoD8RTMgFUaI13WzLs5T9t7N7qv6CzPDt2G47GbP5iw_rs0T0ckVOD7gee09rrpaceaKc2mXYT3Yz1HQI/s1600/20484354.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitteWROAKWnfw2JiRmpWXnnxU7lbhP1-bmKHHzagvMoo1AsAxyQsOcbQFZw4qoD8RTMgFUaI13WzLs5T9t7N7qv6CzPDt2G47GbP5iw_rs0T0ckVOD7gee09rrpaceaKc2mXYT3Yz1HQI/s320/20484354.jpg" width="310" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;">THE END</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;"><br />
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</div>SANCHALIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12210199151716866741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3303916272332233863.post-12136997735453342242011-05-17T12:40:00.000-07:002011-05-17T12:40:00.829-07:00:: 15 THINGS I AM GRATEFUL FOR ::<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXr50XiBaZpd_7FqOq1E-4J9q_Dm6PVU0ueo5C8JKsJz__-f1aetlgqW8bGCgkUMFJFHPbW63rAhspLGxEZHB_YmVu2xIuwDirlrWRz26hczvNv6K7JC2JIpNWaCMpQTguZlDi9fgN1B8/s1600/grateful.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXr50XiBaZpd_7FqOq1E-4J9q_Dm6PVU0ueo5C8JKsJz__-f1aetlgqW8bGCgkUMFJFHPbW63rAhspLGxEZHB_YmVu2xIuwDirlrWRz26hczvNv6K7JC2JIpNWaCMpQTguZlDi9fgN1B8/s320/grateful.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Though I may not be the whiny teenager that you hate, I realized [after being stranded for an hour beside a footpath dwelling family because of a downpour] that probably there are a hundred thousand things I am truly and honestly grateful for... here's listing the top twenty:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><ul><li>1) My High Level of Tolerence: for example, I am tolerating that buzzing mosquito beside my left ear for the past ten minutes. The fact that I have been tolerating pointless education for the past sixteen years of my life, doesn't hurt either.</li>
</ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguGUSzcL76H7HtCPMb5l13vNQb4tk9YUxAdG8e7Iqoe95k3u3s_-m-XPm6IrNXfECjdF6e0P_oB1ehlREkjLVmE8dl1qUNSH608XQnySjijUkYVlUR-DnaNmzB96nyj_WvTvHG0WolhOM/s1600/less_judgement_more_tolerance_button-p145902014712708710t5sj_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguGUSzcL76H7HtCPMb5l13vNQb4tk9YUxAdG8e7Iqoe95k3u3s_-m-XPm6IrNXfECjdF6e0P_oB1ehlREkjLVmE8dl1qUNSH608XQnySjijUkYVlUR-DnaNmzB96nyj_WvTvHG0WolhOM/s200/less_judgement_more_tolerance_button-p145902014712708710t5sj_400.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><ul><li>2) Enigma, Muse and Linkin Park - they probably keep me sane in my insanest of days and get me high in my lowest of lows. Take a bow Enigma.</li>
</ul><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih6FEJX8SFW56CBc-Sld7yhCYu8hc6NJ81m8gHGlfcAtfl-TWHAuzfZRQ5OdmxvLTbjF35FUh-sLMxB5A_jfdxKCViejHzYA945_OpAS5lHXSNICeHJKYB6Zo9mt4zDXyk7wD2sPnCcig/s1600/enigma7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih6FEJX8SFW56CBc-Sld7yhCYu8hc6NJ81m8gHGlfcAtfl-TWHAuzfZRQ5OdmxvLTbjF35FUh-sLMxB5A_jfdxKCViejHzYA945_OpAS5lHXSNICeHJKYB6Zo9mt4zDXyk7wD2sPnCcig/s200/enigma7.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
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<ul><li>3) The Cracks and Cobwebs on the Walls: I am no Robert Bruce, but trust me, any student would agree that there is no better distraction than the numerous cracks and cobwebs on the blank walls, just before the night of the examinations. You can stare t it for minutes all together, never knowing how fast the time is flowing. And if you are the constructive type, you are sure to take a lesson or two from the tiny spider. ;)</li>
</ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD5NMfGMY5fAErYPvswNGF7IOUiwQZr0izGbpLfJJu5i6Md10CkDiVpJiauQkZoQrGr43DXf1C5PyjkKDYuCTzpAO8KrebhfbpvdAYbJou_bLDp_rlwUu7Cf0emxSkOdOdxAtYCAdClPI/s1600/cobweb-in-the-dew-1a-by-sherrill-knaggs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD5NMfGMY5fAErYPvswNGF7IOUiwQZr0izGbpLfJJu5i6Md10CkDiVpJiauQkZoQrGr43DXf1C5PyjkKDYuCTzpAO8KrebhfbpvdAYbJou_bLDp_rlwUu7Cf0emxSkOdOdxAtYCAdClPI/s1600/cobweb-in-the-dew-1a-by-sherrill-knaggs.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><ul><li>4) Facebook: do I really need to say more about this? Nah, I wouldn't put you all to shame.... Thank you Mark Zuckerberg. Really.</li>
</ul><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJj42S6XHqfJ9-yLxb11ZPeNikm1Vo2iJZv8Pb0-9WK2cA5J57PKMMVJIY0X5OYebG86PvfHbKRePtaU5nPpZ-UKe5P1YnxRiGozrd3GBZh0H1zEIpZ55Z0CC_TMGLIlxf0qX4Vvc1J6k/s1600/facebook-logo.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJj42S6XHqfJ9-yLxb11ZPeNikm1Vo2iJZv8Pb0-9WK2cA5J57PKMMVJIY0X5OYebG86PvfHbKRePtaU5nPpZ-UKe5P1YnxRiGozrd3GBZh0H1zEIpZ55Z0CC_TMGLIlxf0qX4Vvc1J6k/s200/facebook-logo.png" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><ul><li>5) My Mother : for everything. Period. Oh, did I miss the fact that you also make me that lovely mango smoothie when I am down. Love.</li>
</ul><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgum1-iMj_FCewQz93a8575Et0QBFVu10lIcwYV0YdeYirTpijj2vn3rSeMlgspsckT3eKTpct8ISiGt9YOjsvUhbbXShASZS327SywQcff4XUEv2TS72VIjG0rduOsjdb3Vl8hL2NR4Ho/s1600/artful-s-my-mother-quote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgum1-iMj_FCewQz93a8575Et0QBFVu10lIcwYV0YdeYirTpijj2vn3rSeMlgspsckT3eKTpct8ISiGt9YOjsvUhbbXShASZS327SywQcff4XUEv2TS72VIjG0rduOsjdb3Vl8hL2NR4Ho/s200/artful-s-my-mother-quote.jpg" width="185" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><ul><li>6)The Garfield Poster in my Room : My true unending source of confidence, attitude and panache. Oh, add the 'laziness' bit too.</li>
</ul><br />
<div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8MJjclV2a88BVswr-HxUdRPm5u_fOaeub1ykf9QBinv7UVz-CLWNFPNfMF6Ew-ybdcusGff-_8Uluhv6y29_UMlYb05SYsNK5pbzNZhVS8REhYE1gqRHduqJpMom59B-oJU6b7oZg0c0/s1600/garfield-never-wrong.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8MJjclV2a88BVswr-HxUdRPm5u_fOaeub1ykf9QBinv7UVz-CLWNFPNfMF6Ew-ybdcusGff-_8Uluhv6y29_UMlYb05SYsNK5pbzNZhVS8REhYE1gqRHduqJpMom59B-oJU6b7oZg0c0/s200/garfield-never-wrong.jpg" width="132" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><ul><li>7) My College: My second home, my friends, my philosophies, my inspiration, my madness, my crazy hole, my eduction, my dreams, my aspirations, my food, my off-classes, my teachers, my Green Benches[fellow Xaverians will be knowing this], my music, my discussions, my gossips, my fights, my library, my examinations and my LOVE <3</li>
</ul><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAT8Ivzng_T9S1uMLILk0jWnOkyyIubIdG3GkwvvQFBndslukxSjGfBm2Y9hlsiMQZq_QEk4KGQLcUoO-BJEQOqgXljJkgecUiSt8EDPVpOSF4LUHgagwPmdCKiL3XHules9Jgx8c2saY/s1600/i_love_college_tshirt-p2356632528122616893mj8_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAT8Ivzng_T9S1uMLILk0jWnOkyyIubIdG3GkwvvQFBndslukxSjGfBm2Y9hlsiMQZq_QEk4KGQLcUoO-BJEQOqgXljJkgecUiSt8EDPVpOSF4LUHgagwPmdCKiL3XHules9Jgx8c2saY/s200/i_love_college_tshirt-p2356632528122616893mj8_400.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><ul><li>8) The Rain Gods: Wherever, in whichever form, from whichever mythology, I offer my humblest prayers to you - my true infinite source of relief and inspiration. Add poetry and photography to that.</li>
</ul><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGBuHiS5lrxggvxrKPLWpBUESRtMCCQBx0OefvTpcaLbxhhl6RCeehu6fjshPvNhz-CYFAC_ApNgKYlKbPgxKRQSVWIpTE3MW8e2AJJ2JQXLShG8g44HK9Ajd2zQUS-0qYQ9yHCyld4iE/s1600/aztec-rain-god-everton-751550-sw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGBuHiS5lrxggvxrKPLWpBUESRtMCCQBx0OefvTpcaLbxhhl6RCeehu6fjshPvNhz-CYFAC_ApNgKYlKbPgxKRQSVWIpTE3MW8e2AJJ2JQXLShG8g44HK9Ajd2zQUS-0qYQ9yHCyld4iE/s200/aztec-rain-god-everton-751550-sw.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">TLALOC - The Aztec God of Rain</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
<br />
<ul><li>9) My being a Bengali - how else would I talk non stop on sports, Saurav Ganguly, left and right and red and green, Robi Thakur, Satyajit Ray, and talk in the world's sweetest language? Bangali hoye gorbito.</li>
</ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT_s0vVgeA9xXOQUwGB0ul0lnauJHgy7l5zTcDKm2PRROhllqhJXjcRfJ9mpbR5x6tExSn9oG1lxasksHeA0GxZwILuoXu9TpBoQzWxs2jZjOPzCey0fzPzOySy_loY1GJd9X19U8lDqY/s1600/24-4899-698839960-l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT_s0vVgeA9xXOQUwGB0ul0lnauJHgy7l5zTcDKm2PRROhllqhJXjcRfJ9mpbR5x6tExSn9oG1lxasksHeA0GxZwILuoXu9TpBoQzWxs2jZjOPzCey0fzPzOySy_loY1GJd9X19U8lDqY/s1600/24-4899-698839960-l.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><ul><li>10) My Old Desktop Computer: I know its slow, its a senior citizen, its nothing sleek, almost an eyesore, but the fact that its been rendering me steady service since my seventh grade, makes my PC a strong contender on this list.</li>
</ul><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlojMl5vKoiCdivL0uRApGKhcDdknV7TMDjj83s5OK9a8nQZjFZ7O2cUPL_TqF2jag23_VkuSYnVNaWyVs1esqRToj5UmF3wrUL6xWYr-CqjIpz9_zzVy6B3G-csGm__5f5t_QGcE3PVo/s1600/%252326228+Clip+Art+Graphic+of+an+Old+Desktop+Computer+Cartoon+Character+With+Keys+Falling+Off+of+the+Keyboard%252C+Using+a+Cane+by+toons4biz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlojMl5vKoiCdivL0uRApGKhcDdknV7TMDjj83s5OK9a8nQZjFZ7O2cUPL_TqF2jag23_VkuSYnVNaWyVs1esqRToj5UmF3wrUL6xWYr-CqjIpz9_zzVy6B3G-csGm__5f5t_QGcE3PVo/s200/%252326228+Clip+Art+Graphic+of+an+Old+Desktop+Computer+Cartoon+Character+With+Keys+Falling+Off+of+the+Keyboard%252C+Using+a+Cane+by+toons4biz.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><ul><li>11) My Part Time Job: You get fast bucks and it pays your MacD bills. What else? Enough to make it on this list.</li>
</ul><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijUFnUUqYSwaNft2wE1NVSGpXF4wJOD_eftsh3sMNM36JCeasuc1b8klo9uT4MHzYiivJPYhfB-adzTrGyLWnGXTzHq7XRqx0TH_6tjOxOvCei5yl2Gy7XRHEwgwS9ESUrRnR_o7njQCc/s1600/part-time-in-mumbai.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijUFnUUqYSwaNft2wE1NVSGpXF4wJOD_eftsh3sMNM36JCeasuc1b8klo9uT4MHzYiivJPYhfB-adzTrGyLWnGXTzHq7XRqx0TH_6tjOxOvCei5yl2Gy7XRHEwgwS9ESUrRnR_o7njQCc/s200/part-time-in-mumbai.png" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><ul><li style="text-align: left;">12) Patience: How else do you think I've been writing this at 2a.m. at night? What? Insomnia you say? But isn't that kind of too obvious?</li>
</ul><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDC4DQL9Zb1P0ox0u6cjVV4eeXiIb9N7AAb3mM8XR1yVMdNGiewgmWORIMugepK27E6MVyjfQjzjn7NO1qpBXTFywHpz8F8_-PYEEt0oYH9I-iwpj0hyphenhyphen4P5VQ9PP_nojnHiolHjpWxnak/s1600/got-patience-680x510.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDC4DQL9Zb1P0ox0u6cjVV4eeXiIb9N7AAb3mM8XR1yVMdNGiewgmWORIMugepK27E6MVyjfQjzjn7NO1qpBXTFywHpz8F8_-PYEEt0oYH9I-iwpj0hyphenhyphen4P5VQ9PP_nojnHiolHjpWxnak/s200/got-patience-680x510.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><ul><li style="text-align: left;">13) Harry Potter: My childhood friend, my fountain of weirdness and well of ideas, the insect that bit me with the writing bug. Enough said. Peace.</li>
</ul><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgbjKh7G9YC3mGOXuuBCy0NIRkeRTKERFZUJ6pLHmYDR_bFcrV1uiOHXc2MgbiT2u_3OcAo7fohsa5ktBRi8lVHFA6V1WTVxuDA2OP0VckB7UHOY0JMUBGrMVZxZ-GtwRSTnLOnxeKma4/s1600/harry-potter-invisibility-cloak-badge-2028-p.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgbjKh7G9YC3mGOXuuBCy0NIRkeRTKERFZUJ6pLHmYDR_bFcrV1uiOHXc2MgbiT2u_3OcAo7fohsa5ktBRi8lVHFA6V1WTVxuDA2OP0VckB7UHOY0JMUBGrMVZxZ-GtwRSTnLOnxeKma4/s1600/harry-potter-invisibility-cloak-badge-2028-p.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><ul><li style="text-align: left;">14) Larry Page and Sergey Brin: for everything else, there's God.</li>
</ul><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBz8CfQQKRJqHC4h3RLAAhCUMOWK0onhCui4JNnOxoIsdnDbIB6TrtngwW5AcgBQo5kLOdeiyGsPzRuJnfQx3kyTqmNqEpzHsohpmJ-kourk0TaLnfnJy1Wu6yQVRZbq_oMJxp1wZoY2I/s1600/Brin-and-Page-300x180.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBz8CfQQKRJqHC4h3RLAAhCUMOWK0onhCui4JNnOxoIsdnDbIB6TrtngwW5AcgBQo5kLOdeiyGsPzRuJnfQx3kyTqmNqEpzHsohpmJ-kourk0TaLnfnJy1Wu6yQVRZbq_oMJxp1wZoY2I/s200/Brin-and-Page-300x180.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><ul><li>15) Everyone Reading this: Otherwise, I would still have been writing at the back of notebooks. Your infinite patience as you are going through this definitely weighs very heavy. Thank you people.</li>
</ul><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVcNvGMlpNG9AyKkZ6O2JIHMX_lpGUijfP1Jx75uqu0vQgddOzPAXIrHSfADLOE2ulg0TwgtzmLo4igzhLRSCEzvB-STnDf7Rd8GFUFtE_ApGBkoCWLuF5AhSd6kDVQ1Lg0sSBd4DcK2E/s1600/267060150_e690307561.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVcNvGMlpNG9AyKkZ6O2JIHMX_lpGUijfP1Jx75uqu0vQgddOzPAXIrHSfADLOE2ulg0TwgtzmLo4igzhLRSCEzvB-STnDf7Rd8GFUFtE_ApGBkoCWLuF5AhSd6kDVQ1Lg0sSBd4DcK2E/s200/267060150_e690307561.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So, there goes the first 'GRATEFUL' list... rest coming up soon. Keep reading.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">P.S.- Sharing Rocks. **hint**hint**</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Author's Note: IF ANYONE FINDS ANY PICTURE OBJECTIONABLE OR COPYRIGHTED, I AM SORRY. JUST CONTACT ME AT sancho.dbest@gmail.com AND I WILL REMOVE IT ASAP. PROMISE.</span></div><div><br />
</div>SANCHALIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12210199151716866741noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3303916272332233863.post-9659290038797090382011-04-24T01:00:00.000-07:002011-04-24T01:03:21.573-07:00MADNESS ::proved::<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCMZnnxRycTnMIRnNIbN30HmKvqWveXlqs3vHcY-cNk1n7YSYAaMnO0XYTT9JhrqxSM7jZxlLyVOcyMt0H1AI_znpRpUyzw4mPkT_6bAvAZlAp1h06nJkccCFM8TaWrCGA745QitQhOT8/s1600/your-mind-blown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCMZnnxRycTnMIRnNIbN30HmKvqWveXlqs3vHcY-cNk1n7YSYAaMnO0XYTT9JhrqxSM7jZxlLyVOcyMt0H1AI_znpRpUyzw4mPkT_6bAvAZlAp1h06nJkccCFM8TaWrCGA745QitQhOT8/s320/your-mind-blown.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't really know why I posted this, but then, its here...</span></b>SANCHALIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12210199151716866741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3303916272332233863.post-70414313019960452292011-04-22T23:04:00.000-07:002011-04-23T00:44:44.855-07:00:: My Anime Addiction ::<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span">They say there's no such place... as Paradise. Even if you search to the ends of the Earth, there's nothing there. No matter how far you walk, it's always the same road. It just goes on and on. But, in spite of that... Why am I so driven to find it? A voice calls to me... It says, "Search for Paradise."</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> - Kiba (Wolf’s Rain)<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As a young girl, I was never much into movies. Television for me, consisted of just one thing – Animes aired on a lone channel called Animax. Well, before I delve any further into this post, let me explain what Animes exactly are.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As the name suggests, it is obviously a form of animation, in this case, Japanese animations.<span class="apple-style-span"> Both hand-drawn and</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="apple-style-span">Computer –animated anime exist and</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="apple-style-span">represents most, if not all,</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> Genres of Fiction. Most of the human figures depicted in these Animes are not correctly proportioned, but still, those large expressive eyes, slender figures and long limbs make the characters so endearing that you cannot help but fall in love with them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My rendezvous with Anime started with a fantasy how ‘Card captor Sakura’- the story of a young school girl who fights her fears and weaknesses to capture certain destructive cards and master them, saving the human population in the process. Sakura fascinated me. I got hooked. Soon, Hungry Heart (story of a soccer player), Captain Tsubasa, Astro Boy and Detective Academy Q followed. While the other people in my class were busy watching Tom and Jerry and Richie Rich, I had found my treasure trove in Animes. The very fact that they were so real yet so very unreal, made me fall in love with them. And I was not the only one in class. A few other guys were hooked into these Japanimations too, and this made our whole group kind of outcasts (not that it mattered to me anyway).<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All these days, I had just watched the Prime time shows, never bothering to tune in later. I realized what big a mistake this was when, one day, the insomniac that I am, switched on the television at 1 a.m. at night and watched the repeat telecast of a show named WOLF’S RAIN. I soon worked out the actual timing of the show and devoted myself to it. And the Wolves never disappointed me. Other niche shows like GET BACKERS and //.HACK SIGN: LEGEND OF TWILIGHT soon became my staple. They captured my imagination like nothing before. What I did not realize then was that what I was watching was shows on Dystopia, Cyberpunk and Post-apocalyptic earth – stuff that excite me even today.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wolf’s Rain was set hundreds of years from now, when most of the Earth is a mere ruined wasteland and people live in few domed and widely dispersed cities. Legend speaks that at the end of this world, which is almost near, Paradise will open, and it will only be known by the wolves. But wolves, along with most wild animals have been extinct for 200 years… or so everyone believes. In fact, a few still survive, using their mental strength to cloak themselves as human beings, living off the gutters. All changes when a young white wolf named Kiba arrives, drawn by the scent of the Flower Daughter, a mysterious girl held captive by a group of researchers. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLgt0DBm0iiNtOYV9lUEz9y0IpyuLlP65Qw1k9s2RHUvTurv7_xGHmNbinqDDsQBDZPD5siTMUGnM6WiZQzF8G-X9YK9ogBSk69KsGCGLmfiJWVqcibvv5UYUnyiZHwL-hdufBLGnSNC4/s1600/%255Blarge%255D%255BAnimePaper%255Dwallpapers_Wolfs-Rain_zenda_-edit986.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLgt0DBm0iiNtOYV9lUEz9y0IpyuLlP65Qw1k9s2RHUvTurv7_xGHmNbinqDDsQBDZPD5siTMUGnM6WiZQzF8G-X9YK9ogBSk69KsGCGLmfiJWVqcibvv5UYUnyiZHwL-hdufBLGnSNC4/s200/%255Blarge%255D%255BAnimePaper%255Dwallpapers_Wolfs-Rain_zenda_-edit986.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-converted-space">Wolf’s Rain deals with very delicate human-animal relationships and the very pressing issue of environmental destruction. The message is not shouted out. The subtle reality of the world in which the wolves live – the options of scavenging from the city of leaving it for freedom into the vast empty wasteland, makes one stop and take notice. The monochromatic barren landscapes, sweeping melancholy and gloomy vistas add a chilling sense of dread. Added to these is Yoko Kanno’s haunting music which does not leave you for a long time to come. Maya Sakamoto’s ‘<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gn6S1pO2FKM"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">GRAVITY (youtube link)</span></a>’ and Steve Conte’s ‘<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xoQuu7GPxAI"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">STRAY (youtube link)</span></a>’ are masterpieces. No show has portrayed a dystopic society better before, just like Kiba says – “</span><span class="apple-style-span">Dying or getting killed isn't something unnatural. Living aimlessly without a purpose is.” (</span><em><b><span style="font-style: normal;">Wolf's Rain</span></b></em><span class="apple-style-span">).<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha3KIAJfW-pYSbw9VvItsB9i56ujOJ19H1FhiufE3-stuAJqENB6FcXfPqI5yG-BcvZu7LaeUt7b5p0aMl8G7lfSajER6TrfECRO1LeermRdq49pfIaleUEr6HYy8mQIOx5HM0uw6uzjM/s1600/wolfs_rain8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha3KIAJfW-pYSbw9VvItsB9i56ujOJ19H1FhiufE3-stuAJqENB6FcXfPqI5yG-BcvZu7LaeUt7b5p0aMl8G7lfSajER6TrfECRO1LeermRdq49pfIaleUEr6HYy8mQIOx5HM0uw6uzjM/s200/wolfs_rain8.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLedDzz1dhCPb0yHZL44N0dLNH0dliCuta9ANCaYX910MG5mk-36mSNnxVDymo7SOoydRzSuu1Op3wjc_rL1xsuxtFS2JsrJQFaiIY8S-P5cVJBpAptn8IEIzAjNp0Y5FDoKG5AA80Rgo/s1600/%255Blarge%255D%255BAnimePaper%255Dwallpapers_Wolfs-Rain_cheche115_43494.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLedDzz1dhCPb0yHZL44N0dLNH0dliCuta9ANCaYX910MG5mk-36mSNnxVDymo7SOoydRzSuu1Op3wjc_rL1xsuxtFS2JsrJQFaiIY8S-P5cVJBpAptn8IEIzAjNp0Y5FDoKG5AA80Rgo/s200/%255Blarge%255D%255BAnimePaper%255Dwallpapers_Wolfs-Rain_cheche115_43494.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjGNW1JXy5XfF-ZMn9d-5Kfl6630bITivhNDhxn4E7BgjqJUOvDbhMPZ_j8EfDfni-QeceX4_8YN3VKUCtItB9M88ftJ1FI9AvNVm8zYkGyUwN5CvEesZ2n9uKEzUotOpM1Kwr6_Yo0Kc/s1600/dsf.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjGNW1JXy5XfF-ZMn9d-5Kfl6630bITivhNDhxn4E7BgjqJUOvDbhMPZ_j8EfDfni-QeceX4_8YN3VKUCtItB9M88ftJ1FI9AvNVm8zYkGyUwN5CvEesZ2n9uKEzUotOpM1Kwr6_Yo0Kc/s200/dsf.jpeg" width="200" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span">Get Backer on the other hand is apparently an action comedy of two guys who </span><span class="apple-style-span">call themselves "The </span><cite>GetBackers</cite><span class="apple-style-span">" and their claim to fame is a 100% case success rate. Ginji Amano and Ban Mido make up the spiky-haired retrieval agency that will get back any lost or stolen item, for the right price. On the surface, the </span><cite>GetBackers</cite><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="apple-style-span">look like an ordinary male duo; however, Ginji and Ban both possess unique capabilities. Ginji is able to produce thousands of volts of electricity from his body while Ban has what's called 'The Evil Eye'—for one minute he can hypnotize someone by trapping them in their worst nightmare for what seems an eternity, and that’s not intimidating what is? What I actually liked about it was the portrayal of a certain place called Maze City, which Ban says is “ a place where reality and virtual reality collides”. As soon as you enter it, you get automatically plugged into the virtual reality system through microwaves. What happens in it is both real and unreal. Like, you could be actually walking in the city, but your mind can be made to think that you are doing something else. In the same way, you could be really sitting in the 2<sup>nd</sup> floor of maze city, but if the VR(virtual Reality) system wants you to think you are standing in the hallway of the 3<sup>rd</sup> floor, you are. The VR actually sends signals to our brains directly. So we end up in seeing, feeling, hearing, tasting and feeling unreal objects. The fact that the makers use such convoluted concepts and yet manage a perfect coherent ending never fails to amaze me. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmEKdgQvOuwG4hYGDHIrgOqmZYOTiJ282Gy7cjh7pm7Whn7zOKI2vUXDlMuiRbC1lPJEyg6V2OzXR8Jc75Tdrf_EN8XgkW_sUuQMkZEZ94PemvpcR436TEPf9F9w4D6oH8KCf8yvM5GXY/s1600/fgvb.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmEKdgQvOuwG4hYGDHIrgOqmZYOTiJ282Gy7cjh7pm7Whn7zOKI2vUXDlMuiRbC1lPJEyg6V2OzXR8Jc75Tdrf_EN8XgkW_sUuQMkZEZ94PemvpcR436TEPf9F9w4D6oH8KCf8yvM5GXY/s200/fgvb.jpeg" width="200" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span">If you want a break from your regular Television channels, Anime is a must watch. And if Animax isn’t airing, there good ol’ Youtube for the rest. Go, search up the tube and get ready to be spellbound. Animes (good ones that is) will hold your attention longer than you imagine. Borrowing from the Bard, </span><span class="apple-style-span">There are more things in Animes, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in;"></div>SANCHALIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12210199151716866741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3303916272332233863.post-19506032963866426572011-04-22T21:35:00.000-07:002011-04-22T21:36:00.090-07:00:: About Moi ::<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>1.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I feel short compared to most people, even though I'm probably not that short. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>2.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>When I was young I worried that I would still be reading Harry Potter when I was an adult, and it would make me an outcast... :( </b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmA7lnPOJto4VQQx_HCvbbZYp8uBzR9io4sMe2lxFCh8xdrqqaVY4L5frKsc4rLNxD-QFYGOyZHKCuuLSrTaK90yZUbWSut64eNjNQ9gNyrg4sUQ0bzCQlnMv1NAgXT7seNuhFf_wmIJk/s1600/140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmA7lnPOJto4VQQx_HCvbbZYp8uBzR9io4sMe2lxFCh8xdrqqaVY4L5frKsc4rLNxD-QFYGOyZHKCuuLSrTaK90yZUbWSut64eNjNQ9gNyrg4sUQ0bzCQlnMv1NAgXT7seNuhFf_wmIJk/s1600/140.jpg" /></span></b></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>3.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I've never broken a limb (WHAT AN ACHIEVEMENT!!).</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>4.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My favourite ice cream is Butterscotch with choco dumplings.... ymmm!!!</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>5.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I once owned a She-ra Crystal Castle, which was exactly the same plastic castle as He-Man's Castle Grayskull, only spray painted pink. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>6.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I once ran away from home at age 9 with a packet of chips, a pair of toy binoculars and a ten bucks note in my backpack. I made it as far as 10 km...</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>7.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Despite the unreliability, crowd, and slow speed of the city buses, I am still stoked that I only have to wait 4 minutes for a bus.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>8.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I never saw DDLJ until last month and I think I really hate it .</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>9.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I can't believe I made it in Neptune.. by my own personal scoring system, anyway ..</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>10.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I have never been to Atlantis.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>11.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I love being in love <3 <3</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>12.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I don't believe in love at first sight .</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>13.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I have a problem with hypocrites.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>14.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I appreciate my mother .</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>15.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My hobby is talking to myself.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>16.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I think about my mistakes .</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>17.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I've been known to hold grudges, although I try not to ...</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>18.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I feel lucky that I have been loved ..........</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>19.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I had the chance to start again, I would do almost nothing differently!</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>20.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I swear too much ... damn.. (there I go again...)</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>21.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I've never been cool. I kind of go my own way, which is uber-cool, apparently. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>22.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I don't remember ever having chicken pox. I think I had the measles once </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>23.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I really really hate being sick. I am hardly ever sick enough to stay home from college, though. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>24.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I don't have a "type" </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>25.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>People who make me laugh fascinate me. Especially when its a sarcastic or caustic remark that does it </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>26.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I am writing this at the middle of night because I don't have any to do (some things never change).</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>27.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I am leaving for dreamland in 45 minutes and I don't know if I want the dreams </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>28.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I can't think of that many things to write about myself! </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>29.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My favourite author is William Gibson, followed by J.K.Rowling, Alistair Maclean and Edgar Allan Poe</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>30.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I always wanted to be in a real haunted house and have to stay the night with a group of my friends </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>31.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I love to read. Especially when its cold and raining and I'm inside </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>32.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I hate weddings. They're boring and stressful. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>33.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I love mashed potato. Any potato dish really </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>34.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I can't sing, but I still love to anyway. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>35.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I am a super huge Anime and Manga fan!!!!!! </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>36.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I'm a big fan of starfish sleeping </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>37.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My favourite color is black, which is boring because almost everyone elses is too </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>38.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The best game ever written is The Sims.. I own all the expansions. I've bought them twice, because I lost the first set </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>39.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I don't like being tickled. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>40.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But I love pillow fights </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>41.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My blood type is AB+ </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>42.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I have a weakness for microwaved popcorn </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>43.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I love doodling in most of my classes.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>44.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My secret ambition when I was 11, was to be an astronaut, detective, adventurer and god knows what…</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>45.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I waited all day on my 11th birthday to get the letter from Hogwarts</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>46.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I secretly read Dante's Inferno. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>47.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My favourite font is Chiller</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>48.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I can talk to lizards</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>49.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I absolutely love wolves… damn gorgeous</b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhiO8pSQG4QIBiCOoLfPqDgAG_jazXtm-4gx6y7S6MbUYkduiAmQd78gh2mpStZL3JKR_3bdP7c0Y-iHDipoRPSLi7r_AJJaNv_ny2VSvL4y-fmnYVJL6eaErSQw_3iC7-yAEUUU-aT4w/s1600/JungleBook.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhiO8pSQG4QIBiCOoLfPqDgAG_jazXtm-4gx6y7S6MbUYkduiAmQd78gh2mpStZL3JKR_3bdP7c0Y-iHDipoRPSLi7r_AJJaNv_ny2VSvL4y-fmnYVJL6eaErSQw_3iC7-yAEUUU-aT4w/s200/JungleBook.JPG" width="200" /></span></b></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>50.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I've never met anyone from Siberia. I think that would be cool </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>51.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I don't like dolphin motifs on furniture, ornaments etc </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>52.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I love goats cheese </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>53.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Greek food is my favourite </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>54.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I am pro-choice, however I'm not sure what I'd do if I had to make one </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>55.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I like music with sad lyrics. This does not make me permanently depressive, however </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>56.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I cannot keep my room tidy. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>57.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I had a cat called Tussy, named after... god knows what?!</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>58.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I hate small tweeny irritating kids.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>59.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>After a long day, I play GTA:Vice City just to ride the cool cars and blow up people.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>60.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I miss old friends sometimes but realise our parting was probably for the best </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>61.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I love old fashioned rooms with patched upholstery and nicotine-stained ceilings </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>62.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I like bingo. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>63.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I am no good at gardening, I tend to kill all plants </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>64.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>When I was in primary school Tazzos (free with chips packets) just came out. You could get Pokemon, Digimon and all sorts of them.... I was the proud owner of 300 of them.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>65.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My one secret ambition is to write a book on Dystopian 'cyberpunk'ish society....</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>66.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I once caught a cricket ball in my hair and became the most popular player for the day </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>67.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I don't really like a lot of candies, cant say the same for chocolates though...</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>68.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My favourite movies are Rang de Basanti and A Clockwork Orange,Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Inception, Blade Runner and the rest I cant remember now…</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>69.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I hate doing dishes only slightly less than studying</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>70.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I love Grappo Fizz</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>71.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Above all programs, I hate Macromedia Flash the most</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>72.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I were a cartoon character, I'd be Milhouse from the Simpsons. ("My beautiful eyebrows!") :P</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>73.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If I were an animal, I'd be a cat. Lazy, feline and fat :) though I've always loved Wolves</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>74.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I adore my new window drapes.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>75.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I hate Big Boss (and variations thereof) </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>76.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I'm passionate about music and have a pretty diverse taste </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>77.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I'm not in the least bit original, but praise others for being so </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>78.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I hate noise waking me up. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>79.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I secretly like the colors Red and White</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>80.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I have been known to start fights due to lack of sleep irritability </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>81.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I hate Professor Snape</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>82.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sapphires are my favourite. Followed by blue topaz, amethyst, emeralds, rubies, any colored zirconia, and rose quartz. I do not like yellow gold and prefer silver or white gold </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>83.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I don't do walking. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>84.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I like Draco Malfoy</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>85.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Rich food and a lot of laughs = the perfect night out (or in, depending) </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>86.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I miss my old school and old life sometimes. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>87.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I think a turtleneck on a guy is damn near the cutest sight in the world. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>88.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I'm going to Atlantis in December 2012. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>89.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I am addicted to Facebook. No, really. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>90.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I barely turned my computer on since I realised I had 5 days left for the exams and I wonder if this is a bad thing. </b></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>91.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I keep promising to take pictures of where I live and around Calcutta, but I am too slack. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>92.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I worry that I'm not taking Calcutta in and that I won't remember when I get home.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>93.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I wonder if I'll ever go Home.</b></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha7HpnI0tdyEw74dZM9pnzdGOc0PlatNKTyxZG_QPHS-JDUgjhXnYMM-mW4OerAYJBvChZkzUgBMiQJVy1XNwWAQLYc9jz4QR2zQ5Lrf4eV9EVsimdHLIaYx8iQRgeLeRDwld64L5_kio/s1600/Tom%252BFelton%252Bpshoot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha7HpnI0tdyEw74dZM9pnzdGOc0PlatNKTyxZG_QPHS-JDUgjhXnYMM-mW4OerAYJBvChZkzUgBMiQJVy1XNwWAQLYc9jz4QR2zQ5Lrf4eV9EVsimdHLIaYx8iQRgeLeRDwld64L5_kio/s200/Tom%252BFelton%252Bpshoot.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="133" /></span></b></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieI82RI6h6LIgj7w0sOLdylegwyDK_oGrQZgI6Oo7q1N4QFnN6En6vUU3uSoXUD45twbVPmj82rZGdmgAsVjk_P6Skmzr-LwnJ0gQ5oAg2kSGIug82z-0CP7AoajW9B6nMR1tGX081n3g/s1600/imran.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieI82RI6h6LIgj7w0sOLdylegwyDK_oGrQZgI6Oo7q1N4QFnN6En6vUU3uSoXUD45twbVPmj82rZGdmgAsVjk_P6Skmzr-LwnJ0gQ5oAg2kSGIug82z-0CP7AoajW9B6nMR1tGX081n3g/s200/imran.jpg" width="133" /></span></b></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>94.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I think Tom Felton is smoking hot and Imran Khan is cuddly cute</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>95.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I am not in the least bit interested in Robert Pattinson (Edward 'leech' Cullen). I think this may make me a freak.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>96.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I secretly love T2 - even if they do have 90% useless news. </b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>97.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>One of my favourite things to do is to visit a theme park. My secret aim is to visit as many as possible in my lifetime.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>98.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I’m not always right, but I am never wrong</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>99.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I am writing this and that makes me damn gutsy</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>100. My name is Sanchali and this has been 100 things about me. :-D</b></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUwoT84X1JuZl2-HBG76d5WxN4ZL8JPv5zjrEYQPPBrmHUTpjKKcOOcV2Laon5yjhRzwrnEBJsDWdJvCoZTWGDkViZgIZRBqb_Gg_EiOF1Jr4Pz6d8b3XJ2KfzEGhKnJ5Aknwa6NozWJU/s1600/Untitled-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUwoT84X1JuZl2-HBG76d5WxN4ZL8JPv5zjrEYQPPBrmHUTpjKKcOOcV2Laon5yjhRzwrnEBJsDWdJvCoZTWGDkViZgIZRBqb_Gg_EiOF1Jr4Pz6d8b3XJ2KfzEGhKnJ5Aknwa6NozWJU/s1600/Untitled-1.jpg" /></span></b></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span>SANCHALIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12210199151716866741noreply@blogger.com0