tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67927439644789084732024-03-13T22:01:33.956-07:00||Khamakha||Wishes-few wistful,few within reach..
Ideas bubbling out ..to be turned true before they burst..
Viewpoints-to share.
Expressions-to live!
Dreams-to realize.
Confusions-to clutter n define my world
Lessons-to learn
Dont really know why this blog!!or why blog atall..
But all this while have realized its a beautiful way of expression n reexpression.. learning n unlearning..or rather just a means to find few moments of solace I like delving into just Khamakha!Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-74967643906129131512011-02-26T10:24:00.000-08:002011-02-26T10:30:11.979-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uVETp5zaV4c/TWlGqaXluoI/AAAAAAAACbg/qSO_AcFWpp8/s1600/puppy%2Bedited%2Bfor%2Bblog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 269px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uVETp5zaV4c/TWlGqaXluoI/AAAAAAAACbg/qSO_AcFWpp8/s400/puppy%2Bedited%2Bfor%2Bblog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578067307921783426" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-50359400661038159092011-02-26T06:13:00.000-08:002011-02-26T06:32:31.491-08:00Futile Wishes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MS_Z2Sbjlq4/TWkLAVviDKI/AAAAAAAACbQ/t2jcVdHfimI/s1600/peace.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 269px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MS_Z2Sbjlq4/TWkLAVviDKI/AAAAAAAACbQ/t2jcVdHfimI/s400/peace.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578001713939483810" /></a><br /><br /><br />Created this of these days...<div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-31883874752454567542011-02-18T03:10:00.000-08:002011-02-18T03:22:04.004-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_or1f-5_GDs/TV5WHwA-ZiI/AAAAAAAACa4/IssFscnBioA/s1600/snowDayColorSkt.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 144px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_or1f-5_GDs/TV5WHwA-ZiI/AAAAAAAACa4/IssFscnBioA/s200/snowDayColorSkt.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574988079879317026" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Brush strokes...<br /><br />Each word of his was like this special stroke of brush that wildly painted with joy and madness...<br /><br />He tried painting her out of the grey and black..the shades of griefs...<br />It was as if every word he spoke evoked an emotion that nurtured her, moulded her into a new body of life and hope...<br />With every smile, story, wish..countless nights spent in soul-stirring conversations...her soul seemed to be absorbing light a little more...like a desert finally drenched in rain.. like the mirage of happiness finally shaping into a real-life tangible structure...<br />An era that was but a phase that unfolded into a life-time of tale.. a short journey with trillions of steps ..highs and lows...smiles and tears..endless tears.. endless laughters..<br /><br />The red rose finally seems so red... <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">(lot to scribble..an attempt to revive the passion of writing again...but somehow words fail me as usual...)</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-19395447405193353692010-11-24T22:50:00.000-08:002010-11-26T04:43:38.724-08:00when memories but just memoriesAnd then sometimes the silence screams at you, darkness screams at you, memories scream at you piercing through these screams wishes scream back at you… wistful..wistful wishes…<br /><br />The night, when the palms clenched itself and opened again.. and again… asking for something that was a part of nothing… thin air hanging above her body while she pretended to sleep that night , she tried snatching that something so desperately, only to find her hands empty…as if the still air in the room reacted back in reflex, with a soft push….whispering a promise of nothingess…<br />Prayers…that were desparate…full of hopes…sacred..innocent…strong …bold…ambitious… <br />returned behind more of absolute eternal emptiness<br /><br />Tears finally learnt how to trickle down silently from the corner of the eye…making no noise…so hushed..no one would know… when the heart can contain no more…numbed but somewhere deeply slit..wounds bleed indeed..and they bleed so hard.. anger fails..sadness fails.. normalcy fails…<br /><br />Eyes left with a lifetime of longing expression..speaking a language of eternal void…<br />When presence is but a memory….when memories but just memories…<br />When there is no court left to give a verdict…help the helplessness…<br /><br />When eyes deliberately sink into nightmarish sounds in midway slumber and search for the nothing ..search for the gone..craving one glimpse..even if its false….even if its not meant…because it is so meant deep insde…so wanted…so precious…<br /><br />Memories fly back to the moment of that stil nothing lying on the ground…that flooded the air with millions of screams… when even that stillness felt like a presence…it felt…it whispered…of all that could have been…<br /> <br />The world lies at those feet…that went so cold…lied at those still clenched palms that once desperately tried escaping the fate of nothingness… <br />while the other set of siamese palms clenched itself and opened again.. and again… asking for something that was so brutally cruely declared as no more..<div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-72885254261491604042010-09-05T08:25:00.000-07:002010-09-05T08:26:30.337-07:00ro ro kar aakhein sooj gayee..<br />Wo dil ka tukda wapas nahi aata..<div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-64394896576685172572009-09-22T00:51:00.000-07:002009-09-22T01:16:51.218-07:00Need some peace of mind. Urgently!<br /><br /><br />This song was kinda solace... Do listen..(From Wake up Sid)<br />Can't write...aaarghhhh.Just can't.<br /><br />_________________________________________________<br />O re manwa tu to bawra hai<br />Tu hi jaane tu kya sochta hai<br />Tu hi jaane tu kya sochta hai <br />Baware<br /><br />Kyun dikhaye sapne tu sote jaagte<br />Jo barsein sapne boond boond<br />Nainon ko moond moond <br />Nainon ko moond moond <br />Jo barsein sapne boond boond<br />Nainon ko moond moond <br /><br />Kaise main chaloon <br />Dekh na sakoon<br />Anjaane raaste<br /><br />Goonja sa hai koi ektara iktara<br />Goonja sa hai koi ektara<br /><br />Sun rahi hoon sudhbudh kho ke<br />Koi main kahani <br />Puri kahani hai kya kisi hai pata<br />Main to kisiki ho ke yeh bhi na jaani<br />Ruth hai yeh do pal ki ya rahegi sada<br />Kise hai pata <br />kise hai pata<br />Lyricsmasti.com<br /><br />Jo barsein sapne boond boond<br />Nainon ko moond moond <br />Nainon ko moond moond <br />Jo barsein sapne boond boond<br />Nainon ko moond moond <br /><br />-Wake up Sid<div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-31943354632024411912009-08-27T05:34:00.000-07:002009-08-27T06:27:15.563-07:00random museIt's sad how easy it becomes to discard things once they are old and irrelevant to the present. Say, those old documents at my desk. I rummaged through the pile of files, folders, A4 sheets, colour prints, checklists... neatly put back the selected ones and rejected others.<br />Rejection becomes such an easy job when time has passed.<br />What point am I trying to make here? Nothing just an observation and attempt at understanding this typical behaviour.<br />These rejected ones were so precious few weeks ago. I thought I would sit at peace and go through them, absorb each element, understand and preserve each bit.<br /><br /> There are times when you know you wouldn't let go of something. But you never know, the future might see you indifferently get rid of the same, suppressing few wishes deep down, mechanically surrendering to situations or the idea of "moving on with times".<br /><br /> Those envelopes or gift wraps you had lovingly unravelled to find your gift by a special or not so special one, tucked the torn pieces safe into your shelf, looked at them time and again to relive the same warmth.. With time, you keep some reject few...why?because you can't keep them all na... Just like you need to sell off old newspapers..the same newspaper that had helped you explore the most surprising facts around the world..articles that had prompted you to discuss and debate and gift you the world in mere 2 to three bucks.<br /><br />It gets so difficult to preserve all the memories that you had once vouched for. <br />Your first best friend at school, when you didnt even know what a best friend meant..who helped you learn your concepts by-heart by reading them aloud again and again , pestered her mother to pack your favourite food for lunch, voted for you as the class prefect! Today,years after, one scrap on orkut might just bring in memories of you and her, but what I find sad is how mute feelings can become with time which once screamed with promises of eternal bliss.<br /><br /><br /> Yeah, you can give a new name to this rejection. Call it Priority. Time. Change. Plain Indifference?<br /><br /><br />Things take a backseat, life takes a back-seat...people change.. you adjust according to your convenience...at times let time and life take over than you taking over it... <br /><br />Like I said..random muse! Never mind.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-68146032445611772862009-08-23T03:12:00.000-07:002009-08-23T04:14:57.737-07:00come. let's explore.<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iRJLK2LZ98A/SpEZAi-AhdI/AAAAAAAACTc/nRrC5IXgS4k/s1600-h/canvas.bmp"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 234px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iRJLK2LZ98A/SpEZAi-AhdI/AAAAAAAACTc/nRrC5IXgS4k/s320/canvas.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373103327607293394" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iRJLK2LZ98A/SpEZAEP7nTI/AAAAAAAACTU/dbGhPSex_pc/s1600-h/untitled11.bmp"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 301px; height: 305px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iRJLK2LZ98A/SpEZAEP7nTI/AAAAAAAACTU/dbGhPSex_pc/s320/untitled11.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373103319360970034" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iRJLK2LZ98A/SpEY_7qOryI/AAAAAAAACTM/Ystr577Yrwo/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 227px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iRJLK2LZ98A/SpEY_7qOryI/AAAAAAAACTM/Ystr577Yrwo/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373103317055352610" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Imagine, colouring a blank canvas the way you like it. With no one to dictate, or judge. The world and you are at sync...peace..and harmony...<br />Imagine, spraying the shades and hues all over the blankness and colouring your world crazily...just the way you like it..randomly, tangently, not adhereing to set patterns or rules... <br />Because, <em>to have your own story </em>you need to go that extra mile and spray the colours of emotions on to the blank sheet of your life just the way you like it..just the way your heart demands..<br />The colours may turn dark once in a while..or indecipherable..but that's no reason to stop believing.. <em>or is it?</em><div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-91990406440485275842009-07-27T06:56:00.000-07:002009-07-28T01:08:20.698-07:00a walk to remember...<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iRJLK2LZ98A/Sm2yOtb8NOI/AAAAAAAACSc/aSEw20aRNqI/s1600-h/BCH-06PB004-001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363138697052828898" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 217px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iRJLK2LZ98A/Sm2yOtb8NOI/AAAAAAAACSc/aSEw20aRNqI/s320/BCH-06PB004-001.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />So well, they walked..and walked...and walked...<br />Like memories tugging on to them like a little kid, like moments dripping down the timeless togetherness, like words melting into the thin air with fond blushes.<br />The laughter echoed into the woods and pearls of sweet nothings waved into the foreverness ...<br />Fingers entwined, thoughts aligned, oh! at times not so aligned, but drenched in the essence of randomness..the beauty of dreams realized itself through that walk..<br />Time teased them, destiny chased with a wild vigour for answers.<br />But who cared, when all that mattered was..the power of freezing time. Standing still like a deep ripple-free ocean sleeping cozily without being disturbed.<br />The trees stood tall and the branches formed themselves into a bouquet..covering them..protecting them like a mother tenderly holding its child. The twinkle of the stars shone on their bright faces while they ran..like running against the rushing waves in a sea, holding each other like never letting go. Futility turned pale, shyed away, and visions of eternal moments danced to the tunes of triumph.<br /><br />Moist eyes and warm hearts, shivering steps in the dreamy envelope of fog and mist.. the night growing silent ..intimidating but challenging..haunting in a beautiful way...<br />They paced down, and started walking again....like they had all the time in the world, like beauty stood for them with open arms as they trodded the streets with no names......like the never-ending roads stretched futrther to move away from their destinations. For they seeked no destination....no answer.....no deadline...they looked for nothingness in that moment of everything..they just wanted to melt like silhouettes before a sun, like elegance before fearless love, like lovers in the rain....<div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-88557434757704243672009-07-13T23:55:00.000-07:002009-07-14T00:53:36.903-07:00saazish hai boondon ki...<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iRJLK2LZ98A/Slw0QfoZVUI/AAAAAAAACSU/jVLfrQTcyE8/s1600-h/rain+desktop.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iRJLK2LZ98A/Slw0QfoZVUI/AAAAAAAACSU/jVLfrQTcyE8/s320/rain+desktop.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358215114637530434" /></a><br />Here comes the the season of floaters, and capris and hot cappuccinos. The season of splashes and 'coming late to work' with loads of excuses, blaming poor rains for the delay.<br /><br />The season of swimming across water-clogged roads (eww!) and watching people on the streets a little more intently. Smelling the samosas, the tapri wali chai and hurriedly relishing the moments.<br /> <br />The season of wishing you could stay back home and wishing of the cliched wish-- "oh-I-wish- i could cuddle in my room cozily with a book"...ofcourse, wishing you have with you a cuppa hot beverage as a perfect companion :P<br /><br /><br />The season of working while listening to the beats of the drizzle hit the glass panes...falling on your senses with utter boisterousness..like an impact.. work no more functional but garnished with pleasure and hopes.<br /> <br />The season of wet memories..<em>fulfilled and unfulfilled</em> ..drenched moments.."<em>fond and mesmerizing</em>"..crucial forgiveness ..<em>kind and by the by</em><br /><br />The season of long conversations.. and random smses to long-lost friends..heartfelt conversations with family and beloved ones...reading stories like the gift of magi and erich segal's 'love story'..and feel like feeling like a crazy mushy fool;)<br /><br />Like people melting into the same essence with the smell of wet earth, indifferent expressions but hearts brimming with emotions...deep within craving and desiring of things muted with passing time.<br /><br />the shower drenches you till the soul...the cold breeze engulfs your heart...the colours blur with a haze...but <em>droplets trickle no more.</em>..<br /><br />The season of happiness and beauty and all the things lovely.<br /><br />So, what are rains...just a change in climatic conditions or a state of mind? <br /><em>The latter indeed</em>:)<div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-57784781049627938282009-07-07T06:30:00.000-07:002009-07-07T06:55:50.688-07:00And there are days when you are choked with emotions..but the numbness is so overpowering it refutes all reasons of letting thoughts breathe without fear of consequences.<br /><br />Like stray memories demanding a decision to forgive or forget, let go or supress...<br />life sometimes poses questions framed in a format that is hardly decipherable by the mind and the heart... A phase comes I guess when an individual has no clue of what is happening around him/her but keeps operating...functioning..surviving...and sustaining... awaiting with bated breath for moments that would reaffirm his faith in the very word faith itself...<br /><br />Crossroads are a dangerous juncture... you have to take you pick..<br />you may go backwards, go ahead..but freezing or going still is the worst form of surrender!<br /><br /><br />But life, time and again with its favourite game of hide and seek has splashed reasons on me to keep functioing...and at times cherishing and reveling in the ecstasy.<br /><br />So what are we ultimately, zombies?? aliens to the other wordly creatures (if any) who emote, cry, smile, demand, whine, pester and ultimately mould into the rationalities with the emotions getting emoted like machines, where even a decision from the hearth is as functional as a device that flashes reminder or to-do note as set by its owner. The only difference here is we ourselves are the owner here running our lives like a puppet show. The heart is scared to feel,changes boggle and amuse it... and the most that the owner can do is probably try and tenderly hold the heart with utmost care by protecting it from the harshness outside. A scratch and you are damaged for a lifetime. How weak;) I guess whoever says he is strong says so with all the scratches and wounds having gone numb in the heart and well! ignorance is bliss right, you just need to be prepared to shut the sudden pangs and desires that heart cries out for at times. <br /> <br />By the way I inteneded to start this post on an entirely note, but never mind..<br /> Life is beautiful:) more later...<div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-46823576720471881662009-05-01T22:11:00.000-07:002009-07-07T06:30:04.112-07:00randomsorry...deleting this post. <br /><br />Let the precious comments be here though...:)<div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-73602382547074899812009-04-04T08:11:00.000-07:002009-04-04T08:30:02.468-07:00Let there be light....<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iRJLK2LZ98A/Sdd88ZNpn4I/AAAAAAAACQY/-UpgPPg1GeQ/s1600-h/flowers.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 227px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iRJLK2LZ98A/Sdd88ZNpn4I/AAAAAAAACQY/-UpgPPg1GeQ/s320/flowers.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320858861763665794" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The music of farewell trance from Kabhi alvida na kehna kept repeating itself, the heat outside tried desperately and arrogantly to enter through the glass pane, friends asking her to go out for a movie or go shopping for cute chappals and junk from street bazaar in the city , Smses dropping in once in a while, chat windows popping up with heys and hiiiis….<br /> <br />It was a packed moment now.. and then the next just goes so blank she ends up sitting under the shower shaken and shivering not knowing what to do next.<br /><br />Life wasn’t sad, life can never be sad. It’s just that intense sense of … existence..or non-existence that baffles you at times. <br />There is so much happening, all the tamasha, the very phenomenon of something defines hope for what is to come.<br /><br />Lines from the movie The curious case of Benjamin Button kept playing in her head…<br /><br />“For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, start whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people who have a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of, and if you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again”<br /><br />She sometimes felt blessed to be able to watch the sun set in its best hues and aura every evening, while sipping a cuppa chai, and let the breeze calmly fondle her face and hair…<br /><br />She gets restless so easily, it almost scares her at times…the anxiety, the dreams drive her crazy. The sudden jolts from her sleep, and coaxing herself back to sleep, she was learning to love herself…<br />She learnt and she unlearnt..and she is learning again..<br />She dreamt and she stepped upon pieces of shattered piercing hopes every moment…<br />She smiled and felt the tears brewing up in her heart eager to trickle down ….every moment.<br /><br />A trance indeed. So many people go through these undulating waves of emotions day in and day out…. But they carry on…something inside them dies at times..but there are newer things that come alive…<br /><br />God becomes your best friend, and sometimes you are scared to trust the almighty even. He never promises you happiness in the way we want to see it. Everyday is called a gift for reasons…reasons she seeked everyday…debates in her mind that had no answer,,,<br /><br />She wonders, the answers we get..are they the truth…or it’s just another fabricated philosophy to go on….. oh what were those words that the Fasttrack giant hoardings scream…Move on…<br /><br />She laughs everytime she hears the words Move on…What an easy way to escape the answers…<br /><br />It was all a clutter, a chaos, interwoven thoughts of past, present and the future…<br />As noisy and deafening as the bedlam of crazy confusions that seeped into her mind everytime she manages to fall asleep. Perks of growing up..eh! Well goodluck to her.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-44939298412225717782009-03-03T13:01:00.000-08:002009-03-04T22:36:41.391-08:00Luck by Chance<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iRJLK2LZ98A/Sa9x7I74qVI/AAAAAAAACPM/QVwyvOXe-BY/s1600-h/luck-by-chance-konkona-sen.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iRJLK2LZ98A/Sa9x7I74qVI/AAAAAAAACPM/QVwyvOXe-BY/s320/luck-by-chance-konkona-sen.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309587746517985618" /></a><br /><em>Ik Raasta Kaanto Ka Hai<br />Ik Rasta Phool Ka<br />Tujhpe Hai Kaunse<br />Tu Raaste Ko Chune<br /><br />Ik Raasta Hai Soch Ka<br />Ik Rasta bhool Ka..<br />Tujhpe Hai Tera Dil<br />Ab Kya Kahe Kya Sune<br />Hoga Tera Yeh Faisla<br />Hai Sochna Ya Bhool Na</em><br /><br /><br />Hey!<br />I loved Luck By Chance (Yeah, may be more for personal reasons, keep guessing;))<br />But whatever, few scenes and dialougues were so well done and yes! matured too.<br /><em>Life and People. Excitement and Guilt. Hope and despair. and...harsh realities..</em> The movie had it all. Amazing effort I must say.<br /><br />Konkaka did it again. <br />And Farhan is cute. Really really so;) His character has been etched out beautifully...<br />I enjoyed the movie....do watch it atleast once.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-22163400304730942682009-01-05T22:45:00.000-08:002009-01-06T00:34:53.426-08:00Fiction FigmentsShe looked at them after the important presentation, indifferently but feigned a look of anticipation, a skill she had mastered over years. <br />Her colleague gave her a cheerful look and whispered how ‘cool’ the pitch went, the brand new campaign for a new variant of the leading brand specially designed for the rural counterparts of the country. The CEO patted her back and congratulated for the efforts she had put in. She thought to herself, what efforts! it’s a daily routine, preparing for meetings like these, that she so thoroughly enjoyed… not so much the end as the process…<br /><br />Work was hectic, as hectic as the rush in the local railway stations and daily struggle to get into the jam-packed rusted compartment of the local trains. The chaos, the fight through the clumsiness gave her a sense of order, a purpose. Parallel to this, her real purpose existed in the angel back home.<br /><br />The disorder, expectations hurled at her in the office muted at home with a warm hug, not so much the hug as the very phenomena .. arms flung open at her, energetically, willingly, desperately, inviting to erase the pressure and tensions that filled her ambience around at work. And the giggles that followed and the never ending yap! Back home, she would mesmerize into the feeling, they would lie side by side looking out of the window, staring at the moon and the clouds, and watching the fresh dew drops smile at them early in the morning. The rest of the world ceased to exist then, and all that lay spread before them were opportunities to live life to the hilt. Every achievement made sense, every competition seemed challenging, and every new day felt meaningful.<br /><br />Yes, it was the angel , her sweet little angel who had suddenly filled her senses with contentment. Happiness? She had stopped bothering about happiness long back,<br />when promises of happiness shattered like rubbles of a fragile building, fragments that could never be the same again, in its entirety , having lost its essence, helplessly.<br /><br />She had felt the pangs so bad, the emptiness..the anxiety, the empty hopes… the forced nightmares, emptiness again, dreams that choked, like an impact ! emptiness again, despair and a naked dance of those situations. …The cellphone she had wished to throw away, guilty of her fingers that automatically dialed numbers she shouldn’t, she needn’t, she fell prey to the little device, the machine that ruled her days then. That let her hear voices that gave her hope…and then the emptiness again.<br /><br />Her convictions had brought her trouble. She had decided to preserve the love that made her heart swell with pride. She didn’t care who else cared, when the person who should have cared the most let go! Reasons flew in air, discussions and possibilities mentioned….and then the same emptiness.. Futility and more of it!! Killing the love didn’t seem to solve the problem… she decided to hold on. She would handle the pangs, alone! Burning photographs or curses only aggravated the problem. Emotions felt void of purpose…<br /><br />Years went by, she went on, life went on, successfully. Sometimes she gaily liked to call herself a successful living corpse, a zombie. Such clichéd darkness, she would laugh aloud! <br /><br />Fast forward - - > The day she went to this adoption center , a fear filled her heart. The familiar fear, of her dreams shattering the moment she saw hope… and expected them to last. <br /><br />It all happened like a blurred piece of fiction, the initial formalities, talks, elaborate details of her background…. And then the angel in her arms, it had looked into her eyes with a twinkle so innocent she fell in love with the little bundle then and there.<br />The bright eyes spoke volumes about the days to come. Responsibilities, she didn’t run away from them. She liked to fulfill them at the right time, and when she decided the world couldn’t stop her. <br />She named her Simran. In her she saw an extension of her love. She made her dreams come true. She preserved the delight when situations had given up and made them come true in her own way. If something has to live forever, who could ever kill it. Not shallow surrenders of all the things! <br /><br />The black and white photographs turned coloured again… she looked at the old snaps, the genuine smiles , the twinkle in the eyes and the firm beliefs…she remembered her dreams of a home, the brightly-lit drawing room , low sofas, dimly-lit bedroom inviting moon’s gaze, full of photo-frames of candid shots, the lively discussions. .. <em>Mesmerizing into the feeling, they would lie side by side looking out of the window, staring at the moon and the clouds, and watching the fresh dew drops smile at them early in the morning. The world would cease existing then, and all that would lay spread before them would be opportunities to live life to the hilt. Every achievement would make sense, every competition challenging, and every new day meaningful</em>… and she remembered their dreams of a kid running around the house , hopping with those mischievous giggles , her curls flying with the breeze , her pink lips turning rosy with each word she uttered…<div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-7907065626029934282008-12-22T03:17:00.000-08:002008-12-22T03:18:36.081-08:00<br><br> "<em>It doesn't hurt, Ollie, really</em>," she said. "<em>It's like falling off a cliff in slow motion, you know</em>?" <br />- Love story<div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-8411967957932114522008-12-15T22:12:00.000-08:002008-12-16T02:14:18.626-08:00In the movie dil kabbadi, character played by Soha Ali Khan goes something like this...<br />She can't hold her mind still, even when she should. She imagines wild, weird, obscure things when she should be focussing on more important things!<br />Thus goes my life.. if my life was a person, he would be this adventure freak, amused at the simplest of things and surprised at all the ironies and dark humour that sketches his being. And that affects me. Balance is the need of the hour. <br />No extra emotions and no irrelevant tears. Just plain acceptance and trust.<br />Wait, I even forgot why I started writing this post.<br /><br />My friend told me the other day really firmly, and how I love her for that, that we need to survive and live no matter what! We have to take care of ourselves, eat in time, (force food down the throat if needed), sleep in time, work and carry on! Rest will follow. And even if it doesn't YOU HAVE to carry on. SO I said hell, yeah, how true.<br /><br /><br />K, i need some inspiration to write..and believe why must I write.. I d just finish reading a book and convince myself how important it is to let your imagination go wild and delve in the joy/sadness.Or may be this is JUST not the right time.<br /><br />A thought: Is it your constant worry that makes the worry come true , or was it bound to happen..May be the worrying part was just preparing you to face the reality to come?<br />If the latter holds true, everything falls in system and logic!<br /><br /><br />And do have a look at this beautiful post on the myth of timeless art: <a href="http://illustrationart.blogspot.com/">LORADO TAFT'S FOUNTAIN OF TIME </a> and go the post named -->LORADO TAFT'S FOUNTAIN OF TIME-->Wednesday, November 26, 2008<div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-36300207251678781862008-12-04T23:48:00.000-08:002008-12-04T23:58:26.863-08:00inspiration<em>Bits on Advertising</em><br /><br />Great Moments in Advertising: Leo Burnett's Speech<br />This speech was delivered by Leo Burnett at a meeting of the entire Chicago Burnett office on December 1, 1967.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7WUxb8YB88o&eurl=http://drawn.ca/2007/10/29/leo-burnett-when-to-take-my-name-off-the-door/&feature=player_embedded">Watch the Video Here</a><br /><br />'When to take my name off the door'<br /><br />"Somewhere along the line, after I’m finally off the premises, you – or your successors – may want to take my name off the premises, too.<br /><br />You may want to call yourselves " Twain, Rogers, Sawyer and Finn, Inc."….. or "Ajax Advertising" or something.<br /><br />That will certainly be OK with me – if it’s good for you.<br /><br />But let me tell you when I might demand that you take my name off the door.<br /><br />That will be the day when you spend more time trying to make money and less time making advertising – our kind of advertising.<br /><br />When you forget that the sheer fun of ad making and the lift you get out of it – the creative climate of the place – should be as important as money to the very special breed of writers and artists and business professionals who compose this company of ours – and make it tick.<br /><br />When you lose that restless feeling that nothing you do is ever quite good enough.<br /><br />When you lose your itch to the job well for it’s sake – regardless of the client, or money, or the effort it takes.<br /><br />When you lose your passion for thoroughness…you hatred of loose ends.<br /><br />When you stop reaching the manner, the overtones, the marriage of words and pictures that produce the fresh, the memorable and the believable effect.<br /><br />When you stop rededicating yourselves every day to the idea that better advertising is what the Leo Burnett Company is about.<br /><br />When you are no longer what Thoreau called "a corporation with a conscience" – which means to me, a corporation of conscientious men and women.<br /><br />When you begin to compromise your integrity – which has always been the heart’s blood – the very guts of this agency.<br /><br />When you stoop to convenient expediency and rationalize yourselves into acts of opportunism – for the sake of a fast buck.<br /><br />When you show the slightest sign of crudeness, inappropriateness or smart –aleckness – and you lose that subtle sense of the fitness of things.<br /><br />When your main interest becomes a matter of size just to be big - rather that good, hard, wonderful work.<br /><br />When your outlook narrows down to the number of windows – from zero to five – in the walls of your office.<br /><br />When you lose your humility and become big-short wisenheimers…. a little bit too big for your boots.<br /><br />When the apples come down to being just apples for eating (or for polishing) – no longer part of our tone or personality.<br /><br />When you disprove of something, and start tearing the hell out of the man who did it rather than the work itself.<br /><br />When you stop building on strong and vital ideas, and start a routine production line.<br /><br />When you start believing that, in the interest of efficiency, a creative spirit and the urge to create can be delegated and administrated, and forget that they can only be nurtured, stimulated, and inspired.<br /><br />When you start giving lip service to this being a "creative agency" and stop really being one.<br /><br />Finally, when you lose your respect for the lonely man – the man at his typewriter or his drawing board or behind his camera or just scribbling notes with one of our big pencils – or working all night on a media plan. When you forget that the lonely man – and thank God for him – has made the agency we now have – possible. When you forget he’s the man who, because he is reaching harder, sometimes actually gets hold of for a moment - one of those hot, unreachable stars.<br /><br />THAT, boys and girls, is when I shall insist you take my name off the door. And by golly, it will be taken off the door. Even if have to materialize long enough some night to rub it out myself - on every one of our floors. And before I DE-materialize again, I will paint out that star-reaching symbol too. And burn all the stationary. Perhaps tear up a few ads in passing.<br /><br />And throw every god-damned apple down the elevator shafts.<br /><br />You just won’t know the place, the next morning. You’ll have to find another name."<div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-13775355474133503652008-11-26T09:00:00.000-08:002008-11-26T09:06:35.734-08:00<br><br><br />May be it is not as bad yet... but<br />for all the sadistic pleasure luck derives<br /> by snatching away what is held precious<br /> for the brutal separation from the umbilical cord<br />I'd ****ing continue smiling!<div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-64605674095673985582008-11-20T23:53:00.001-08:002008-11-20T23:54:35.842-08:00best friends<em>the problem with best friends is</em><br />they make you feel better<br />even when you want to feel bitter<br /><br />!!<div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-7594341460624936222008-11-20T07:19:00.001-08:002008-11-20T07:19:55.610-08:00Nobody's Home<strong>Nobody's Home </strong>- Avril Lavigne<br /><br />I couldn't tell you why she felt that way,<br />She felt it everyday.<br />And I couldn't help her,<br />I just watched her make the same mistakes again.<br /><br />What's wrong, what's wrong now?<br />Too many, too many problems.<br />Don't know where she belongs, where she belongs.<br /><br />She wants to go home, but nobody's home.<br />That's where she lies, broken inside.<br />With no place to go, no place to go to dry her eyes.<br />Broken inside.<br /><br />Open your eyes and look outside, find the reasons why.<br />You've been rejected, and now you can't find what you left behind.<br /><br />Be strong, be strong now.<br />Too many, too many problems.<br />Don't know where she belongs, where she belongs.<br /><br />She wants to go home, but nobody's home.<br />That's where she lies, broken inside.<br />With no place to go, no place to go to dry her eyes.<br />Broken inside.<br /><br />Her feelings she hides.<br />Her dreams she can't find.<br />She's losing her mind.<br />She's fallen behind.<br />She can't find her place.<br />She's losing her faith.<br />She's fallen from grace.<br />She's all over the place.<br />Yeah,oh<br /><br />She wants to go home, but nobody's home.<br />That's where she lies, broken inside.<br />With no place to go, no place to go to dry her eyes.<br />Broken inside.<br /><br />She's lost inside, lost inside...oh oh...<br />She's lost inside, lost inside...oh oh...<div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-65805565736719830202008-11-15T12:57:00.000-08:002008-11-15T13:04:47.944-08:00Questions<br /><br /><em>Zindagi zindagi </em> <a href="http://www.papuyar.com/music/category/view/4284/yuvvraaj-(2008)">Listen to it here</a><br /><br />Zindagi zindagi,<br />Kya kami reh gayi,<br />Aankh ki kor mein,<br />Aankh ki kor mein,<br />Kyu nami reh gayi..<br /><br />Zindagi zindagi,<br />Kya kami reh gayi,<br />Aankh ki kor mein,<br />Kyu nami reh gayi..<br />Tu kahan kho gayi,<br />Tu kahan kho gayi,<br />Koi aaya nahi,<br />Dopahar ho gayi,<br />Koi aaya nahi,<br />Zindagi zindagi..<br /><br />Din aaye din jaaye,<br />Sadiyaan bhi gin aaye,<br />Sadiyaan re..<br />Tanhayi lipti hai,<br />Lipti hai saasaon ki,<br />Rasiya re..<br /><br />Tere bina badi pyaasi hai,<br />Tere bina hai pyaasi re,<br />Naino ki do sakhiyan re,<br />Tanha re, mein tanha re..<br /><br />Zindagi zindagi,<br />Kya kami reh gayi,<br />Aankh ki kor mein,<br />Kyu nami reh gayi..<br />Zindagi zindagi..<br /><br />Subah ka kohra hai,<br />Shaam ki dhool hai,<br />Tanhai hai,<br />Raat bhi zard hai,<br />Dard hi dard hai,<br />Ruswai hai,<br />Kaise kate saansein uljhi hai,<br />Raaten badi jhulsi jhulsi hai,<br />Naina kori sadiyaan re,<br />Tanha re, mein tanha re..<br /><br />[Zindagi zindagi,<br />Kya kami reh gayi,<br />Aankh ki kor mein,<br />Kyu nami reh gayi<br />Tu kahan kho gayi,<br />Koi aaya nahi,<br />Dopahar ho gayi,<br />Koi aaya nahi..<br /><br />Zindagi zindagi,<br />Kya kami reh gayi,<br />Aankh ki kor mein,<br />Kyu nami reh gayi..<br />________<br /><br /><br />Movie : Yuvraaj (2008)<br />Music Director: A R Rahman<br />Director: Subhash Ghai<br />Producer: Subhash Ghai<br />Lyricist: Gulzar<br />Song Title: Zindagi<br />_________________<br /><br />Just a thought:<br /><em>Have you ever noticed, how at times, when nothing works, it's despair that gives you that much craved hope...</em><div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-44467730656324605942008-11-11T21:40:00.000-08:002008-11-11T21:50:02.327-08:00black hole<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iRJLK2LZ98A/SRptt1P8anI/AAAAAAAACNQ/LrmDOFylFIg/s1600-h/200px-Black_Hole_Milkyway.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 160px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iRJLK2LZ98A/SRptt1P8anI/AAAAAAAACNQ/LrmDOFylFIg/s320/200px-Black_Hole_Milkyway.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267643348318710386" /></a><br /><br /><em>"Have you heard of the black hole?<br /></br><br />You are getting into a black hole, <br />you are becoming the black hole, <br /><br />a vicious circle of your own thoughts,<br /><br />Get out of it before it's too late"</em><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Blackhole: A black hole is a theoretical region of space in which the gravitational field is <strong>so powerful that nothing</strong>, not even electromagnetic radiation (e.g. visible light), <strong>can escape its pull </strong>after having fallen past its event horizon. <br /><br /><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-20005916697597742312008-11-08T12:19:00.000-08:002008-11-08T12:25:49.988-08:00<br /><br /><br /><br /><em>and, at times you do wish you could just erase few memories off</em>...<br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6792743964478908473.post-87079321898971265852008-11-06T22:33:00.000-08:002008-11-08T10:33:35.957-08:00Dreams and Nightmares<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iRJLK2LZ98A/SRQWJxGAoII/AAAAAAAACMw/O2FleJUKd38/s1600-h/trance.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iRJLK2LZ98A/SRQWJxGAoII/AAAAAAAACMw/O2FleJUKd38/s320/trance.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265858221356130434" /></a><br /><em>And time around me whispers when its cold<br />The changes somehow frighten me<br />Still I have to smile</em><br /><br /><br /><em>And what about tomorrow<br />And what about our dreams<br />And all the memories we share</em>...John Denver<br /><br />_______________<br /><br /><strong>Dreams and Nightmares:</strong><br /><br /><br />What are my dreams like...and my nightmares?<br /><br />Have you ever felt this way<br /><br />You are stuck somwhere, you wouldn't want to<br />an uncanny, eerie atmoshphere engulfed in elements of dark humour<br />so not where you would like to be<br />people around behaving awkwardly<br />someone dear <em>dead</em><br />or waving a goodbye<br /><br />Visuals of a whirlpool heading to devour all the characters<br />with you in the center extending your arms for help<br /><br />Or...<br />a narrow warped lane, like its been distorted on photoshop<br />not knowing where it leads to<br /><br />or<br />the most delicious food served on a platter<br />you feel the hunger pangs, actually! in your dreams<br />but just can't reach them<br /><br />or<br />you tucked somewhere, suddenly realizing<br />you are at a height<br />a scary height....<br /><em>you look down and your heart skips a beat</em>,<br />and the moment the thoughts you try avoiding strikes your mind,<br />like the thought of not falling down...<br />it happens.<br />you fall off<br />in mid-air<br />and the heart beats faster, so fast...like you can't take it any more, like you have stopped breathing, <br />full of fear and trepidation<br /><br />You know its just a nightmare<br />and yet you can't open your eyes<br /><br />You tell yourself, its just a dream<br />and that you are actually lying on your bed<br />under your quilt<br />probably you stuffed your face too much into your pillow, so you can't breathe<br />and if you try hard enough you can get back to earth...<br />you can get back <em>to your room<br />with people existing<br />just a call away</em><br /><br />You tell that to yourself numourous times<br />and force your eyes to open<br />so hard<br />and there! the moment you think its over<br /><em>you hear vague voices from a distance<br />like people and souls talking to you</em><br />you see visuals of you lying on a bed<br /><br />you tell yourself<br />its still a nightmare<br />and you need to try harder<br /><br />and then your eyes actually open<br />you realize it somehow... I can't explain that.<br />you just have to trust you are back<br />your eyes heavy<br />craving for sleep<br />but you don't let your eyes shut<br />cuz you don't want to be back to the weird place<br />and the scary elements of that other worldy atmosphere<br />Instead you lay wide awake<br />helplessl in absolute comatoseness <br />watching your insomnia celebrating its victory...<br /><br />_____________<br />I was surprised to watch clips so similar in the movie eternal sunshine of the spotless mind and tv show grey's anatomy,<br />something I have experienced so many times before<br />and the best thing being<br />I have always fought it<br />even in my dreams and nightmares and am proud of it<br />I can communicate whats essential and get out of my..my..misery<br />though the pangs remain.<br />But somewhere the pangs can go take a hike and let me live!!<br />________<br />Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind:<br /><br />I loved the movie most for the concept. Imagine trying to erase memories?????of your loved ones? Damn! erasing memories of all the times spent together and any fond thought that has some relevance to the relationship . As for me, even if I have/had someone special in my life, and I have to forgo it for whatever reason(life is like that you know), I would with pride claim all the memories that where once ours, and so I have a stake in the joint venture too;) I hate the idea of returning gifts when people break up, its like insulting all the memories you have earned so far.Its painful, but you gotto respect the past somehow. Easier said than done though... am just blabbering about what would be ideal, like everything ideal actually happens!<br /><br />back to the movie....<br /><br />The protagonist trying to gather memories back that he volunatarily is wiling to let go off.<br />He is put to sleep by doctors and his brrain is being fiddled with to erase memories of him and his love...<br />Before he is turned unconscious, he is made to share each memory so that its easier for the doctors to systematically get rid of them, from his mind.<br />He is made to describe each object that has a memory attached to him and her.<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br />One by one, moments get erased<br />Moments of their first meet, fights, quarrels, the way they gazed at the evening sky while lying on the snow....<br />till a point comes<br />when the forward button<br />brings him a beautiful memory.. <br /><em>of both under a quilt<br />whispering sweet nothings </em><br />where she shares her worst fear with him<br />and her childhood tales<br />and he assures her lovingly...<br /><br />its then that he prays for the memory to stay...<br />and let them not snatch it away from him..<br />its then that he struggles to stop the process<br />He is put to sleep you see, and can't scream out right now... <br />But finally succeeds..<br />actually, he does it together with her<br />in his dreams<br />and both of them fight it together<br />and reverse the memories-erasing process<br /><br />They realize all the bitter venom they had given away about the other<br />when they decided its better to get rid of the memories<br />and realize, they wanted to get rid of momories cuz they were too special to handle if the person they loved is not around..<br />and they make peace<br />confessing that its okay not be perfectly okay in a relationship<br />what matters at the end is the "togetherness" which lucky few get... <br /><br />Remembrance:The ability to recall past occurrences<br />Memory:Something <em>that is </em>remembered<br /><br /><em>For memories are nurtured in the heart, the brain is just a device to contain and remember them</em><br />You can erase remembrances you know....but never the memories..they come back, and haunt you...they thrive....<br /><br /><br />________<br /><br />Grey's anatomy<br /><br /><br />The other day he watches her sinking into the bathtub<br />and lying their lifeless for couple of seconds<br />untill he pulls her out of the water<br /><br />And again<br />he pulls her out of <br />the ocean<br />where she got drowned accidentaly.<br />He knew, she must have given up even then<br />and let herself sink deep into devouring water<br />cuz the confusions around her life were too much to handle may be.<br /><br />Bright, intellignet, funny and an aspiring surgeon, Meredith goes into coma..<br />cuz she gave up just for couple of seconds.<br />She travels through a journey of after-death experience<br />still unwilling to get back to earth<br />but finally fights it and returns to life....<br /><br />____________<br /><br />Who can ever explain all the abstraction floating around us day in and day out..<br />Things beyond our comprehension..<br />Beyond the power of science and logic<br />all I know is they are!...and not acknowledging them is not me...<br />so lemmebeme...<br />I can land into a sociably accepted job, marriage, family life<br />and yet regret not having sunk in deep for a while when I could<br />regret for giving into the accepted<br />my smile taken for my happiness<br />and my longing gaze taken as fleeting worry....<div class="blogger-post-footer">Cheers.....</div>Khamakhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01753969715587916345noreply@blogger.com4