tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-213829302011-08-24T15:16:26.713+05:30<b>Deliver me from writers who say the way they live doesn't matter. I'm not sure a bad person can write a good book. If art doesn't make us better, then what on earth is it for-Alice Walker</b>Bhanunoreply@blogger.comBlogger751100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1158694948316234172006-09-20T01:10:00.000+05:302006-09-20T01:12:28.330+05:30

Humph….ok…ok…got it..!! I know everyone had a complaint about this blog, it hasn’t been updated about anything for so long, almost 2 months now since the last entry. Sometimes life goes too fast that you hardly get time to catch up with yourself, simply that was the reason for me not have written anything here. Sincere apologies not only for this blog but also for the other two blogs which have

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1153604083155327142006-07-23T03:03:00.000+05:302006-07-23T03:04:49.183+05:30

Before I begin with my unending rhetoric about the world around me, let me apologize for the Mumbai bomb blasts. No No….its not me who did it…the only bombshells I ever saw were on the TV sitcom Baywatch and the only canon’s I ever saw were the ones firmly placed without gunpowder in my school ( La Martiniere College for Boys, Lucknow), the apology is to the Indian govt. for the mistook me and my

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1152396482833013202006-07-09T03:38:00.000+05:302006-07-09T03:38:02.920+05:30

I had been longing to write something for days but unfortunately never got any decent matter to write upon. Not that today I have something interesting to write or I can weave a good story to tell, it’s only my unshakable habit to write something that has bought me back to my favorite playground.Monsoons have arrived in this part of India after unleashing their fury in Mumbai. I wonder how and

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1151617929772746012006-06-30T03:02:00.000+05:302006-06-30T03:22:09.926+05:30

Do I have something to write? Absolutely not. Then why am I here again on my blog? No idea!! Sounds confusing? Yes it does, even to me. There are few days when you have absolutely nothing to do and nothing to make your brain run across the miles. As Pink Floyd once sang, you are comfortably numb. You hate being pinched yet wait for those little nutty gritties. You purposely shove those files

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1151611450403055152006-06-30T01:30:00.000+05:302006-06-30T01:48:38.963+05:30

These are probably my last days of watching movies; my insomnia is on the verge of being healed. Even when I write this review I am feeling a bit dizzy, whether it’s the outcome of some heavy dinner I had or back to back movies I saw, is still to be found out. What are ogres? Look for it in the dictionary or simply watch the first of Shrek series. For those who haven’t watched the movies, ogre

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1151531173617545762006-06-29T03:11:00.000+05:302006-06-30T01:53:51.946+05:30

“Pornography”, what is this? The first time I came across this word,I was prompted to question back. Not that I had some special affinity or inquisitiveness to know what it meant, I simply thought may be its some new subject of learning like Bio-informatics or Geography. I hated geography in general,somehow,never could make a head or tail out of the maps that were given to me for our map classes,

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1151362367247022182006-06-27T04:21:00.000+05:302006-06-27T04:22:47.266+05:30

I was prepared to write something about the value of qualifications and education but then I realized I wasn’t prepared for it tonight. There was something more important on hand than qualifications and education to me. It was a rainy evening today, and rains in this part of the world, the third world as the Americans prefer calling us, bring more miseries than smiles. May be for some fortunate

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1151103350234730422006-06-24T04:23:00.000+05:302006-06-24T04:25:50.243+05:30

Anonymity... an art of being unknown, and yet being known in your own way. When I was a kid (yeah...i am grown up now ) I remember going through readers digest and in the quotes columns whenever I came across a quote with Anon. Suffixed to it, I thought may Anon was some greek philosopher who had so much more to say. Somehow every quote page had Anon quotes somewhere, and it really made me think

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1151102860122917902006-06-24T04:12:00.000+05:302006-06-24T04:17:40.146+05:30

Football… or do we call it soccer…!!? A little confused when my blogger buddy asked me to write something on football. Initially I was really happy for not having asked to write about Indian Urinals ( Courtesy Mr. Ram Rehman, the famous photographer who had this weird fascination for urinals, he once even gave a short lecture on the same when invited by photography society in KMC ), but I forgot

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1150972900192286272006-06-22T16:08:00.000+05:302006-06-22T16:11:40.200+05:30

This one was written almost a year back in July 2005, and since than it has been lying in one of my mailboxes, so thought why not share it on this public blog. hope you guys like it. With A cigarette in my hand I felt like a man-Few years back listening and watching this snippet from social ad campaign would have certainly discouraged every smoker in India but unfortunately nothing much happened

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1150923959709671742006-06-22T02:29:00.000+05:302006-06-22T02:35:59.733+05:30

I have no clue when this custom of writing love letters began. But I am sure it’s as ancient as the art of making love. Love and love letters are synonymous, may be a lot in common. Man would have written first love letter in form of cave paintings, only to be immortalized and deciphered as some piece of art by modern day archeologists. There have been numerous stories of love letters being

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1150843911058779642006-06-21T04:14:00.000+05:302006-06-21T04:21:51.096+05:30

Well this one is marvelous, marvelous if what I concluded was right. This blogger buddy, and let me name her as P, came up with a strange message on my Id on community site, “you a chartered accountant?!!”. It sounded as if she was stunned more than happy about it. Kind of humorous to me. Out of these innumerous jokes I have heard on accountant this one was awesome. I remember this old incident,

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1150793556078769652006-06-20T14:18:00.000+05:302006-06-20T14:22:36.093+05:30

My insomnia is being a little more creative than ever before, may be it has some purpose that I am unable to decipher at this point of life, may be later someday I would realize this. Here is another play list of recent music I have been listening to. But before that I need to clarify that these are my days of discovering ghazals rather than anything else. Few big names which I heard before and

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1150613889157227112006-06-18T12:25:00.000+05:302006-06-18T12:28:09.176+05:30

Insomnia… a rare condition where you lose sleep and every effort to sleep fails. Medical complexity that seems to strike mostly with old age and stress. In early days of development of medicine, the only cure to this disease was morphine and opium, which had the side effect of making an addict to this toxic substance. Drug abuse was common to get rid of stress and insomnia. There are many

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1150536404444986072006-06-17T14:54:00.000+05:302006-06-17T14:56:44.460+05:30

“Confessions of a teenage drama queen”, a light hearted movie by Disney Motion Pictures Inc. and Lindsay Lohan in the lead was my watch last night. Something that has become a part of me these days. Forced vacations indeed till I get something exciting to work upon apart from usual accounting and taxation advises. “When you are happy the whole world is New York, and dreams are important, coz they

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1150441408072523772006-06-16T12:32:00.000+05:302006-06-16T12:33:28.090+05:30

“Piyaldas Chatterji”… who Chatterji? The story began 3 months back, while surfing for hate groups on orkut.com I came across this community named “sab Bengali M****** hai”. It was the time when saurav ganguly episode was still fresh in my memory and all that brouhaha about his exclusion from the Indian cricket team and subsequent Bengali uprising against coach Chappell, everything on a trifle

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1150367466580207882006-06-15T15:57:00.000+05:302006-06-15T16:01:06.593+05:30

This one is awsome...when Higgins returns from his mother's house after meeting Eliza, and is jealous to find out that she has decided to get married to Freddy, and has praised Col. Pickering more than he himself, this is what goes on...great watch...and great movie indeed!![In the street and Higgins is hurrying home in a huff.]HIGGINSDamn! Damn! Damn! Damn!I've grown accustomed to her face.She

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1150299036324117202006-06-14T20:56:00.000+05:302006-06-14T21:00:36.553+05:30

Well, I am basically nocturnal animal, even my professional life has been more into late mornings and late evening, and when I am asked as to what do I do all these nights? I think my answer would be music..movies and blogging. Of late I have this nasty habit of letting things flow in words, don’t really know whether I write well or not, but then I do write is something that soothes my nerves. To

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1149503737321945922006-06-05T16:03:00.001+05:302006-06-05T16:05:37.346+05:30

Last night I was prompted to listen to a wonderful song by this Pakistani singer Fakir, titled jiya na jaaye. Almost made me cry, but couldn’t. One of my prejudices has been regarding the Pakistani singers and especially the new age, coz I always felt they had no sense of poetry. But then slowly those prejudices are eroding themselves away. Or may be it is because those old memories keep coming

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1148967992508053082006-05-30T11:15:00.000+05:302006-05-30T11:16:32.520+05:30

The best part I like about notebook computers is that they completely erase the existenceof parker pens. Its been almost a month now that I haven’t used my pen, and in fact this is one of the reasons that I am gradually forgetting the art of writing. Don’t know how much of it is good, but I personally feel this will lead to breakdown of the whole process of studies and creativity. Arts are slowly

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1148836766354452022006-05-28T22:33:00.000+05:302006-05-28T22:49:26.363+05:30

mujhe mat roko..mujhe yaar ke ghar jaane do...main hun parwaana..mujhe shamaa pe mit jaane do...usko paana hi meri zindagi ka maksad hai..gar wo milta hai mujhe mar ke..to mar jaane do...dil ki aankho ne meri..apna sanam dekh liya...ab isi dar pe..mere dam ko nikal jaane do...mujhe mat roko...mujhe yaar ke ghar jaane do...

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1148366641803420292006-05-23T12:06:00.000+05:302006-05-23T12:14:01.816+05:30

I remember the first time when I picked up Pygmalion in my 8th standard, a novel by G.B.Shaw that has been a part of our English literature curriculum for so long. I would accept that it was boring right from the first word till the last word I read that time. Boredom was enhanced by the fact that it was a part of our board exams. The first day in school with this novel was disastrous, despite

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1148284025381002012006-05-22T13:14:00.000+05:302006-05-22T13:17:05.396+05:30

I have been trying to write a professional blog since the past few days after a friend of mine gave me an idea of writing professional articles again. But somehow or the other every time I sat down to type it out on word, I felt irresistibly bored keying those most boring words over and over again. May be I am quintessential orator and extempore, even when it comes to writing. I can only express

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1147663946328280282006-05-15T09:00:00.000+05:302006-05-15T09:02:26.346+05:30

When we two partedIn silence and tears,Half broken-heartedTo sever the years,Pale grew thy cheek and cold,Colder, thy kiss;Truly that hour foretoldSorrow to this.The dew of the morningSunk, chill on my brow,It felt like the warningOf what I feel now.Thy vows are all broken,And light is thy fame;I hear thy name spoken,And share in its shame.They name thee before me,A knell to mine ear;A

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1146532256645097502006-05-02T06:40:00.000+05:302006-05-02T06:41:28.523+05:30

So he is dead, Suryanarayan, an engineer by profession, outsourced to Afghanistan, paid in dollars and butchered by Taliban. A fairly simple story as long as you ignore the word butchered at the end of sentence. Revealing what Indians are all about, Suryanarayan belonged to that class of Indians who travel across the seven seas to earn in dollars, trying to bypass the Indian currency devaluation

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1145945313816596032006-04-25T11:28:00.000+05:302006-04-25T11:38:33.836+05:30

For the last few days I have been reading a lot about Indian’s abroad doing well, naturally termed as NRI’s or Non Resident Indians. A statement by US Pres. Where he warned the American younger generation especially students to study hard or be ready to lose jobs to Indians and Chinese workers, draws a grim picture. Though right now pres. Is pro outsourcing but not Kerry, who is sure to contest

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1145341884097434902006-04-18T11:56:00.000+05:302006-04-18T12:01:24.116+05:30

“Louis, I think it’s the beginning of a beautiful friendship!” When I first came across this title of the movie which said Men don’t cry, I so firmly believed in it. Probably men never had those opening which made them spill those salty droplets from their eyes, or may be if they had it, they were never supposed to uncork them. But, from within themselves, every man is a softy cushioned bunny

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1145164618007040312006-04-16T10:42:00.000+05:302006-04-16T10:46:58.020+05:30

Deception, at every point of time you are bound to be deceived or deceive someone. You can only deceive the one who trusts you. Deception is synonymous to disillusionment, it’s like giving up on the faith you have for someone. Every part of human life is a bundle of deceptions, disillusionment and as per the theory of karma you get what you give, the way you deceive others the same way you are

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1144482517885766452006-04-08T13:14:00.000+05:302006-04-08T13:18:37.966+05:30

“Power flows through the barrel of a Gun”. How many of us believe in Mao, who came up with this brilliant quote. Probably Mao is not everyone’s favourite and especially the American’s for Mao is Chinese, not worth being praised. But then in India, today I find relevance to this quote. How many of Indians remember Rajiv Goswami? Who Goswami? Well the story back to late 80’s and early 90’s. When

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1144238862512349692006-04-05T17:30:00.000+05:302006-04-05T17:37:42.533+05:30

“Kaaga sab tan khaaiyo..Mera Chun Chun khaaiyoo Maas.. Do naina mat khaaiyo..Mohe piya Milan ki aas..” Kailash Kher’s song is wonder example of romanticism and Sufi music. It speaks volumes about the extent of love for a person. Taken straight from the legendary Love story of Heer Raanjha , where the lady sings in pain praying to a crow who feeds on the dead of animals. She prays

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1143817647605521962006-03-31T20:33:00.000+05:302006-03-31T20:37:27.640+05:30

Phool Shabnam Main doob jaate hain… Zakhm marham main doob jaate hain… Jab koi aasra nahin milta… Hum tere ghum main doob jaate hain… Tum Poocho aur main na baatau.. Aise to halaat nahi… Ek zara sa dil toota hai.. Aur to koi baat nahi… Ghum ke andhiyaare main tujhko.. Apna saathi kyu samjhu… Tu fir tu hai…tu fir tu hai.. Tu fir tu hai..mera to saaya bhi

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1143412452414440652006-03-27T03:51:00.000+05:302006-03-27T04:04:12.426+05:30

Now, I will narrate to you a story surrounding the life of a great saint, Sheikh Abdul Qadir Al-Gelani, which happened about one thousand years ago. One day, child Abdul Qadir heard a cow saying, "What are you doing here in the grazing fields, it is not for this you have been created". He ran back to his house feeling utterly terrified and climbed on to the roof of his house. From there he saw

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1143277857370175372006-03-25T14:33:00.000+05:302006-03-25T14:40:57.386+05:30

Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it. ~Michel de Montaigne Sometimes I wonder how much of the above is true. The more we try to forget things the worst it does, it keeps coming back to us. Not that our memories are hunting or they trouble us day and night, but the bottom line is the more you are asked not to touch the flame the more intense is the desire to

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1143122506791793752006-03-23T19:20:00.000+05:302006-03-23T19:31:46.820+05:30

If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, the appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! It had a dying fall: O, it came oer my ear like the sweet sound that breathes upon a bank of violets, stealing and giving odour! Twelfth Night (Shakespeare). Sometimes I wonder how true it is. We have seen so many generations finding solace in music and

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1143013903826886952006-03-22T13:17:00.000+05:302006-03-22T13:21:43.833+05:30

 

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1142955213783269802006-03-21T21:01:00.000+05:302006-03-21T21:03:33.806+05:30

 

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1142857075237716692006-03-20T17:45:00.001+05:302006-03-20T17:47:55.240+05:30

What is the beginning and what is the end? Merely saying that we have reached the end of our relationships and past changes the picture? I have tried finding the answers to these and the deeper we delve into there, the more confused we sound to ourselves. So at times we have to decide to let it go, let it be where it is, it as in the past and the questions. I remember what Mark Antony said in

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1142840384125060602006-03-20T12:59:00.000+05:302006-03-20T13:09:44.143+05:30

Tumne Dil ki baat kah di… Aaj yeh accha huaa… Hum tumhe apnaa samjhte the… Bada dhokaa huaa.. Jab bhi humne kucch kahaa… Uskaa asar ulta huaa… Aap shayad bhoolte hai… Barha aisa huaa… Aapki aankho main yeh aansoo kaha se aa gaye…? Hum to deewane hai lekin.. Aapko yeh kya huaa… Ab kisi se kya kahe iqbaal apni daastaan… Bas khuda ka shukra hai…

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1142399594893766322006-03-15T10:41:00.000+05:302006-03-15T10:43:14.906+05:30

A very Happy Holi! May God bless All of Us!

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1142233004162178822006-03-13T12:20:00.000+05:302006-03-13T12:26:44.183+05:30

Jinko duniya ki nigaaho se chupaye rakkha... Jinko Ek umra kaleje se lagaaye rakkha.. Deen Jinko...Jinhe Imaan banaaye rakkha.. Tune Duniya ki Nigaaho se bachkar likkhe.. Saal-ha-saal..mere naam baraabar likkhe.. Kabhi Din mai..kabhi raat ko uthkar likkhe.. Teri Khushboo main base khat main jalaata kaise.. Tere Haatho ke likkhe khat main jalaata kaise... Tere khat aaj main

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1142069837172311042006-03-11T15:00:00.000+05:302006-03-11T15:07:17.186+05:30

Living a life with a mask on our face hiding the truth, how long can you live this life? Life is such a short journey and even before it begins, it comes to an end. We live with so much on our shoulders that we never realize that there is life beyond duties and responsibilities. We please every one around us and yet in turn lose our own desires, we end up loving things which we never

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1141999549248765682006-03-10T19:24:00.000+05:302006-03-10T19:38:21.266+05:30

Hazaaron khwahishain a'eisee ke har khwahish pe dam nikle bohot nikle mere armaan lekin fir bhee kam nikle Dare kyoon mera qaatil kya rahega uskee gardan par wo khoon, jo chashm-e-tar se 'umr bhar yoon dam-ba-dam nikle [ khoon = blood, chashm = eye, tar = wet,dam-ba-dam = continously ] nikalna khuld se aadam ka sunte aayain hain lekin bohot be-aabru hokar tere kooche

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1141826822207017472006-03-08T19:12:00.000+05:302006-03-08T19:37:03.366+05:30

I have traveled through the worst and the best phases of my life and have had my cup of finest wines, in the best cups around the world. My experiences with love have been something worth writing for. To me love was always a philosopher’s theory, where every word was heavenly and would never stop repeating the most beautiful word in the language, I Love You. To me these are something that is most

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1141573192277218512006-03-05T20:54:00.000+05:302006-03-05T21:16:38.360+05:30

Summer came and left without a warning All at once I looked and you were gone And now you're looking back at me Searching for a way that we can be Like we were before Now I'm back to what I knew before you Somehow the city doesn't look the same I'd give my life for one more night Of having you here to hold me tight; oh please Take me there again Oh, oh Chorus: And I remember how you loved me Time

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1141549380843589452006-03-05T14:32:00.000+05:302006-03-05T14:35:18.200+05:30

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1141368312897196762006-03-03T12:12:00.000+05:302006-03-03T12:15:12.910+05:30

We are all caged in our own fallacies, our own feelings. We sacrifice so much for everything we get, but then is it worth all the sacrifices we make. Why do we realize that it isn’t worth all this? We love, we cry, we die and like a phoenix we rise again, only to be caged where we never wanted to be. Things come and they go, they simply vanish, we let go our dreams let go our own desires and most

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1141306820580034962006-03-02T18:55:00.000+05:302006-03-02T19:11:40.156+05:30

when i stand on this ground.. i look below my feet... something that was real... has been burried down deep. my soul is dead and i am alive.. only to see my wounds bleed.. take it all or give me none... and now i am a pauper.. the last i could be. i am done on this road... you made me walk... i run, i yell and no one to talk.. whisper shout or raise my voice.. u wont

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1141279378831431362006-03-02T11:25:00.000+05:302006-03-02T11:32:58.856+05:30

Jaana...jaanaa...jaanaa jaanaa... dekha nahin hai tujhko kal se... pal pal kate mera mushkil se... aa pooch le jara is dil se... jaanaa... raaho ko tere taktaa hu... jee jee ke main yahaa martaa hu... main pyaar bas tujhe karta hu... janaa... samjhaau main kaise is dil ko... jaanaa...yeh maane na... jaanaa...yeh samjhe na... Ik Pal bhi lagta hai...ik saal jaisa... tere

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1141140397584923022006-02-28T20:52:00.000+05:302006-03-02T19:17:16.300+05:30

Hai liye hathiyar dushman taak main baitha udhar… Aur hum taiyyar hai seena liya apnaa idhar… Khoon se khelenge holi gar watan mushkil main hai… Sarfarsohi ki tamanna ab humare dil main hai… Haath jinme ho junoon katate nahin talwaar se… Sir jo uth jaate hai wo jhukte nahin lalkaar se.. Aur bhadkega jo shola sa humaare dil main hai… Sarfarsohi ki tamanna ab humare dil main hai…

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1141032267864371392006-02-27T14:50:00.000+05:302006-02-27T14:54:27.880+05:30

Kisi Baat Par main kisi se khafaa huu.. Main zinda hu par zindagi se khafaa huu… Khafaa huu..khafaa huu..khafaa huu… Mujhe dosto se shikayat hai shayad… Mujhe dushmano se mohabbat hai sahayd… Main is dosti-dushmani se khafaa hu… Khafaa huu..khafaa huu..khafaa huu… Na jaane kahaa-kab-kise dekhta hu… Magar main jahaan-jab-jise dekhta hu… Samajhta hai who main usi se

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1141031066276735082006-02-27T14:32:00.000+05:302006-02-27T14:34:26.283+05:30

Colors of Henna....do they really make sense? does this color make sense? Darker the better.....will wait for the day when i find out the truth!! 

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1140947636459358432006-02-26T15:23:00.000+05:302006-02-26T15:23:56.466+05:30

 

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1140900486211528212006-02-26T02:17:00.000+05:302006-02-26T02:18:06.216+05:30

 

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1140880604573352042006-02-25T20:46:00.000+05:302006-02-25T20:46:44.580+05:30

 

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1140862935303074642006-02-25T15:48:00.000+05:302006-02-25T15:52:15.316+05:30

Yaara seeli seeli…Birha ki raat ka jalna… Yaraa seeli…dhola seeli…. Yeh bhi koi jeena hai…yeh bhi koi marnaa… Yara seeli seeli….Birha ki raat ka jalna… Tooti hui chudiyon se jodu yeh kalaai main… Pichli gali main jaane kya chhod aayi main.. Beeti hui galiyon se.. fir se gujarnaa… Yaaraa seeli seeli..dhola seeli seeli Yaara seeli seeli…Birha ki raat ka jalna… Yaraa seeli

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1140785165558079482006-02-24T18:11:00.000+05:302006-02-24T18:16:05.583+05:30

Mera Kucch Samaan, Tumhaare Paas pada hai…. Saavan ke kucch bheege bhege din rakkhe hai… Aur mere ek khat main lipti…raat padi hai… Wo raat bhujha do…mera wo samaan lauta do… Patjhad hai Kuch…Hai na!!!..... Patjhad Main Kucch patto ke… Girne ki aahat…kaano main ek baar pahan ke lautaayi thi… Patjhad ki who shaakh abhi tak… Kaamp rahi hai…wo shaakh gira do…

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1140756871532279512006-02-24T10:23:00.000+05:302006-02-24T10:24:31.533+05:30

 

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1140756822385166942006-02-24T10:22:00.000+05:302006-02-24T10:23:42.390+05:30

 

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1140361364816854712006-02-19T20:28:00.000+05:302006-02-19T20:34:32.703+05:30

adopt your own virtual pet!

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1140191164708426042006-02-17T20:58:00.000+05:302006-02-17T21:16:04.736+05:30

It’s much more than a movie, sort of epic I would say. The first impact you may feel is of just another story told in a different style, another patriotic movie, but its kind of ode to patriotism right from the title of the movie. Basanti is saffron, not yellow as people generally believe it to be. Saffron, one of the colors of tricolor is the color of spirituality and purity, thought white is

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1139063840141379492006-02-04T20:06:00.000+05:302006-02-04T20:07:20.143+05:30

 

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1139063735924765782006-02-04T20:04:00.000+05:302006-02-04T20:05:35.930+05:30

Sometimes things and people shock you beyond repair..one of those days in this life is bound to be there...so prepare yourself!! 

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1138946428926481562006-02-03T11:30:00.000+05:302006-02-03T11:30:28.930+05:30

 

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1138945749232011262006-02-03T11:17:00.000+05:302006-02-03T11:19:09.236+05:30

Some of the Best Moments in Life * To fall in love. * To laugh until it hurts your stomach. * To find mails by the thousands when you return from a vacation. * To go for a vacation to some pretty place. * To listen to your favorite song in the radio. * To go to bed and to listen while it rains outside. * To leave the shower and find that the towel is warm.* To clear your last exam. * To

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1138945637811189692006-02-03T11:03:00.000+05:302006-02-03T11:17:17.820+05:30

I want to somehow say thanksFor always being there for meBecause even when I didn't,You knew what I could beThanks for pushing meTo be and do the bestThanks for assuring meThat I could pass any testThanks for getting mad at meIf I didn't put any effortI was just scared of failureBut you're always there for comfortSo I would take the risk involvedTo prove that you can trust meI think

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1138887348491696252006-02-02T19:00:00.000+05:302006-02-02T19:05:48.506+05:30

When every one walks out you expect someone to stay...and that someone stays in your heart...believes in you..believes in your ability to walk through the clouds and make it to the heaven someday...and what if this someone walks out too? How does it feel? Awful. You realise that all you lived for so long was only a lie and you never had a heart but only a heart shaped box made of metal.Someday

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1138797296595007762006-02-01T18:04:00.000+05:302006-02-01T18:04:56.600+05:30

Have you ever found a friend that just touches you deep insideYou feel a special bond that you simply cannot hideYou give them a piece of your heart, a view of what you areSometimes they live close to you, sometimes they live too far.It really doesn't matter, you were friends from the startSoon you realize their memory is a piece of your heartYou feel like they're an angel, placed here

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1138797236014149552006-02-01T18:02:00.000+05:302006-02-01T18:06:50.076+05:30

How to forget yesterday? The grim pains of yesterday -Dreams that ended up as rue ...How to forget them? How to accept them as true?Like heavy downpour the tears begin to fallAs I look at my reflection in the mirror-The eyes looking back at me make me feel small-And all I ask is my God, how long is this going to last?How to stop these thoughts

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1138796871700254352006-02-01T17:57:00.000+05:302006-02-01T17:57:51.703+05:30

 

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1138796357869924062006-02-01T17:48:00.000+05:302006-02-01T17:49:17.873+05:30

 

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1138795570409648072006-02-01T17:35:00.000+05:302006-02-01T17:36:10.410+05:30

 

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1138795403717508732006-02-01T17:32:00.000+05:302006-02-01T17:33:23.723+05:30

 

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1138692469121776862006-01-31T12:56:00.000+05:302006-01-31T12:57:49.126+05:30

 

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1138017460945125832006-01-23T17:27:00.000+05:302006-01-23T17:27:40.950+05:30

 

Bhanunoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21382930.post-1138016270364742272006-01-23T17:04:00.000+05:302006-01-23T17:07:50.370+05:30

We have so much to do and so much to think that in this whole process of thoughts moving back and forth we forget that our brain needs a little rest now and then. And eventually we end up making a catastrophe of events for ourselves. I remember there was a time I had so much less to think and so much lesser to even care for and today I am fed up with the whole world. My feelings are cynide to me,

Bhanunoreply@blogger.com