Laughter and Me :-)

I realized how important it is to give statutory warnings, like the one in cigarette boxes and warning for expecting mums and heart patients before watching a scary movie or getting into a roller coaster ride. So it is my duty to give you a similar word of notice [not statutory though] before you go through this blog so that by the end you don’t conclude that I’m a bit insane.

I should have hanged myself to death!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Coz that’s what I told Karthik when he asked me to sleep immediately after my heavy dinner. :-) “I’d rather hang myself than to sleep immediately after a meal”. But that’s what I did today morning!!!

We were chatting till 3 a.m regarding Koundamani and his jokes in Tamil movies. Karthik was quoting all those funny dialogues and me being a professional giggler!! was laughing my head off, holding my tummy trying to stop it from aching. Sometime Koundamani's jokes will be absolutely irrelevant and I feel that makes it funnier. Some of the best ones being

Suryan-“Hello Mr. Vaidiyanathan, namma rendu paerum idhukku munnadi Delhi la meet pannirukkom, appo ongalukku mandaila mudi jaasthi”

Suryan-“Salethla mukkiya premugar kaidhame” and he goes “ En Coimbatore la mukkuna kaidhu panna maatangala?”

I’m not sure whether everyone considers this as a joke; I would say only very few who have keenly noted every bit of his comedy could enjoy his jokes to its best.

I would laugh even for the most silliest of jokes and which had occasionally made me an ‘outstanding’ student in my school and college days. Just when some one goes like- “Aarthi shall I tell a joke?” and I would have already been half way through giggling and just imagine my state by the time the joke would have come to an end.

Actually we started with something really sensible and serious- discussing about our career, interviews, etc and after a while my brain got heated up so just changed the topic to jokes and Gosh if at all anyone had seen me then they would have no doubt dialed KMH [Kilpauk Medical Hospital]-the one for mentally retarded ones. And all this mess ended up at 3 a.m and thought, I should hit the sack or else I might miss the gym the next day-which is a greater sin than ‘sleeping soon after eating’.

“Aarthi wake upppppppppp its already 9…….wake upppppppp…..” not able to bear mum’s scream, I got up. My eyes were burning and I just wished not to open my eyes and sleep for some more time. But I had to go to gym and hence should have my breakfast at least an hour before. It was 9.30a.m - I had finished my breakfast and was literally holding my eyes open to keep myself awake.

Trinngggggggggg Tringgggggggggggggggggggggggg. The usual normal ringing sound was unusually disturbing today. It was like someone sitting on my ears and blowing trumpets, I got up with a jerk. In spite of holding my eyes open, I had dozed off....zzzzzzzzz. It was a call from Mum saying that our driver didn’t turn up today and hence asked me to skip the gym for just 1 day.

Wowwwwwwwwowwowoww. Hurrrrrrrrrrrrayyy !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I got a valid reason to sleep. [If it had been on some other day I would have fought with mum to let me drive myself to the gym]. I have never felt happy if I had to skip my work outs but for the 1st time I did.

At 10 a.m I was on my bed cuddled myself with the quilt and making myself warm on a cold rainy day. I don’t remember when I slept but it was 1 p.m when I got up with my vision clear, brain working and me feeling human. Gosh only then I realized I had slept quite soon after my breakfast…..…just recollected what I had told Karthik yesterday and again laughter!!!!!!!!!! There should be an inseparable bond between laughter and me. Lucky me!! coz laughter is the best medicine. [Giggle!!!!]

Buckle Down Yourself

I should say it was a mega shopping day for me and for the first time in my life I had grabbed so many books in such a short span of time-the count being 15 in 15 mins. I randomly picked “Homecoming” by Taslima Nasreen and I couldn’t resist myself from reading it. Being a very simple book with just 120 pages, it embraces a life in it. I just couldn’t hold back myself about this amazing book I had read.

Kalyani, the heroin of the novel leaves her home town [Mymensingha, Bangladesh] unwillingly, for survival. She comes to a different country [Kolkata, India] and never feels at home. In spite of her detachment, she had to pursue her life in this new land, where she gets a chance to go back to her place after a period of more than 30 years. During her visit she realizes that her homeland had existed merely in her thoughts and not in reality. The author brings out the fate of millions of people who have left their country for another and got lost belonging to neither. Reading through the pages, I was able to feel Kalyani and it brings an unknown burden in the hearts of the readers.

In spite of everyone teasing Kalyani about the accent she carried from her hometown, she always felt proud of it and she keeps emphasizing the beauty of her country-the Brahamaputra River, friendly people in the neighborhood, the land where she had met her first love and people like her friend Sharifa who had fallen on the ground and cried when she had left. She had told heaps of stories to her kids and had even fought with her husband flaunting about her country.

When she visits her country she completely feels out of place, though she knew she’s in the right place- where she wanted to be for the past 30 years. She's taken aback when she finds that even her best childhood friend acts like a stranger.

“Kalyani looked longingly at Sharifa; averting her eyes, Sharifa sat quietly. Kalyani looked at her arms, clasped in heavy gold bracelets. She had gone to the riverside holding those hands once. Kalyani thought, transported to the past”

The above lines are simple yet very cogent reflecting Kalyani’s longing for the love from her friend. One day, she lets her son play with the kids on the roads to get the aura she had enjoyed during her childhood. When he comes back she enquires about the game they were playing and gets humiliated listening to his answer.

“What sort of game is that-I’ve never heard of anyone playing with ants.

The ants were moving in a line up the wall, they were crushing the red ones, letting the black ones go free. When I asked why they were doing that, they said it was because the black ones were Muslims, the red the Hindus.

Kalyani shivered uncontrollably”

Facing all kinds of awful situations she thinks back about her love.

“He had said ‘I can’t live without you’……Everyone says this at one time or another and continues to live. Life doesn’t come to a standstill because another person is not there. …..you might not want to have anything to do with someone you had previously thought indispensable”

It is a blind fact that everyone should accept, are accepting and will accept. No one’s life stops with the absence of some other person, be it one’s own father or mother or brother. A hard truth to digest!!!!

The excerpts from the book have been mentioned here to give you the true essence. I personally feel that this book is a must read for all the people out there, especially for the emotional belt, who try to balance themselves between their hometown and the place where they live with a great nostalgia. Everyone can give it a try, since this book won’t take much of your time. I finished this book in 2 days, hardly 10 hrs totally. So what are you waiting for???Just buckle down yourself with this awesome gift for us from a humanist.

My 1st Day in Sydney

The day I left India I wish to remember everything that was buzzing in my mind and that’s why I’m here writing this blog. I have such a bad memory, so thought of using this space and let me not regret in the future.

30 July 2004- I was in the airport. Dad asked me to check in immediately and assured me that I can come back after the check-in and talk to them. I got the two heavy suitcases-which were for sure exceeding the weight limit allowed by Singapore airlines. Ya, it had 8 kgs in excess-I didn’t want to take anything out of my suitcase-I asked the lady in the Check-in counter-“Can I pay for just 5 kgs?” She said “Yes”…Might be she felt pity seeing the any-time-I might-cry look on my face.

Everything was done and it was time to say bye to my parents. Mum continued her advices, “Don’t worry, uncle will join you in Singapore and you won’t have any problem in your aunt’s house, eat properly and don’t diet. Take care” for the nth time. Archu gave me her expensive watch, for which I had fought with her a week back. The person behind me-some airport staff asked-“shall we go?” Like a dam broke-open and water started flowing… I cried…everyone were looking at me, I didn’t bother. I was holding my mum’s hands and never wanted to lose the hold. But I had to go. I could see them till I stepped on the escalator [turned my head a dozen times before I reached the escalator] mummy and Archu were still crying, craning their necks to see me, dad with a very hard, rigid face and slowly... one by one...they were all gone. I was all alone now in the 1st floor of Chennai International Airport. I was waiting near the gate unable to control my tears-wishing to rush back to my mum and hug her.

The travel was comfortable and uncle joined me in Singapore. We reached Sydney on 31st July 2004. It was late in the night and Tara, my aunt [that’s how I called her when I was small-unable to pronounce her name Saradha properly and now everyone calls her Tara] had come to pick us. It was really cold outside, but I hardly felt anything. My mind was too much occupied with other thoughts. It all seemed to be a dream. Tara was showing me those tall buildings and saying “This is the city, and this is where your Uni [University] is. We are living in a suburb called Cherrybrook. You have to catch a train from Pennant Hills to Central and you can walk to the Uni from the station”. Half getting into my mind and half left in the air, I was looking out. It was very dark on a winter night; I could hardly see anything other than lights. Got home-the house was sooooooooooooo pretty, like the ones I have seen in Hollywood movies. Got down from the car and ran to see my cousins, both were jumping in joy to see me and their dad. Then Tara was dialling my home, I was so excited and picked up the phone,

Me: Daddy the house is soooooooo beautiful, It is really cold here….
Dad: Oh really!! Was your journey fine?
Me: Ya daddy, will be going to Uni tomorrow.
Dad: Ok ra, Mummy was crying through out the night and she hardly slept ra kanna. Talk to her first.
Gosh how did I forget her? Tears started rolling down, weeping loudly I spoke to my mum.
Me: Mummy...........like a little girl streching her hands and calling her mum..
Mum: Dear, How are you? [Kanna, Bagunnava?]
Me: mmm-this was the answer for all her questions after that.

Said bye and slept.

1st of August, 2004, I woke up at 8 a.m. I hardly felt any jet-lag. My cousins were rushing in their school uniforms. By the time I had brushed my teeth they were ready to go. After they had gone I went to have a shower. I loved the shower room and to see the bathroom without any bucket n mugs. I was shivering in the morning cold and Tara said I might feel better after having a warm shower. Opened the shower knob to the maximum and cold water just rushed out of the shower. OOOOOOOOOOFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF the water was ice cold…...I felt like 10000 needles trying to pierce into my skin.. all over my body. Couldn’t even look at the knob to close it…again tears….I was so fragile that every little thing made me cry…Later Tara told me to open the one with a red label first to get hot water.

I was ready and Tara drove till Pennant Hills station, where we got to catch the train to Central. Only then I noticed how mind-blowing the suburb looked, as sweet as the name-Cherrybrook. I would never get a chance to live in a place like this. I still can’t explain the beauty in just one word. It was amazing, awesome, stunning, striking, wonderful, terrifying,……. We reached the station in 10 mins. The two-way train fare was $5.40 [approx 5*35=175] my mind started converting…OMG I need to spend Rs.175 everyday for just commuting….hmmmm.

In the process of getting enrolled I learnt to say few things like “Thanks, Sorry, Excuse me” frequently, which was new to me. We found an Indian restaurant in the ground level of my Uni. [There was a long argument between my uncle n aunt regarding whether they mean floor when they say level 1, 2 etc]. Since I missed my orientation I had to meet my course co-coordinator [oops!!! I already forgot his name]. Heyyyyyyyy I remember now--- Mr.Antony Kadi. He was surprised to see my aunt and uncle who had accompanied me. I felt a bit embarrassed too-I was supposed to do it all alone. While picking up the class timings, most were in the evenings and I remember him asking me “So, if you have to go to the bar on Friday evening then you can enroll yourself for the Monday afternoon session” I gave him a confused look. I told myself-Do I look like a drunkard????. He looked confused too. He was waiting for my answer. I said “No sir, I don’t drink”. Prof- “Oh, then you’ll soon learn to”. It was supposed to be a joke but I was not smiling. Frustrated he continued “Well, that’s all for the day, you can attend today’s class at 6 p.m”. Got up to leave...errr forgot...said "Thank you sir". He smiled.

An Indian guy named Prasad [from Chennai], who had already finished a semester came forward to help me, seeing that blank and bewildered look on my face. We had the 'Technology and Innovation Management' class by Kathy Kelen. I heard students calling her Kathy and not mam/madam-I was able to recollect the way I addressed Mr.Kadi in the morning[Giggle...]. Prasad helped me with everything he can for the next 1-2 weeks. Class got over by 9 p.m and by that time my uncle and aunt had gone home and had come back with my cousins to pick me up from the Uni. Discussing with them what had happened later in the afternoon, we reached home. Before bed I prepared myself to face the beautiful new world awaiting for me.

Lovely Rain

Just had a shower and logged in to check my mails. Inbox (3), opened to see the mails-all three being junk. Go to Hotmail-nahhh…go to Rediff-no use….try ur luck in Gmail-wow 10 mails. Clicked Inbox and all were mails regarding scraps in Orkut….hmm fine…atlast can go to Orkut and reply for the scraps-all done in less than 5 mins. Thanks to the broadband internet.

“Ping! Ping! Open the Door Please”-that was my calling bell- the watchman was with a mail-again not for me….but for dad. Threw it on the sofa and came back to my room and sat in front of the PC wondering what to do. Was a bit hungry, had oats in the morning for the breakfast. I was tempted to eat the chocolate cake and buns mum had got for me, in spite of me warning her not to tempt me with bakery foods. The usual dialogue would be--

Me-Mummy, please ma let me come down to 55-57kgs and then will start eating all this.

Mum-Enough of dieting and exercising. You know something; you look like a duck already, with a craned neck. [I really don’t care-who worries about one’s neck-well, I don’t] And anyway my intention is not to tempt you [Lie!!!!!!!!!]What if you feel hungry sometime when I’m not at home-that’s why got this for you.

Ya mummy you are right, I felt hungry and opened the pack unwillingly, actually willingly…. Thank God-I remembered my cook keeping a bowl of pomegranate in the refrigerator yesterday night. Gosh-I saved another 300-400 calories. Good Aarthi-Keep it up. !!!!!!!

Damaaaaal Dimeeeeeeeeel!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!-ayoooo mummyyy@##$-heart skipped a beat-startled..it was thundering outside, sounding like a bomb blast in the street nearby. In spite of that, I kept the balcony door open-Kolupu di unaku. The wind was really strong and was letting the breeze kiss my face. I could see the clothes left to dry on the terrace in my neighbor’s house. I was waiting for the rain, envisioning my neighbor running and picking up the clothes on the floor and the ones that were getting wet. Wowwww-Rain-yeahhhh it started raining…. Rushed to my balcony…. awesomeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee climate…the next thing I’d love to enjoy after eating chocolate pastry is to drench myself in the rain… if not at least admire it. I ran to grab my digicam and took some snaps…. they were not up to my expectations. Dad…..Grrrrrrrrrrrrr-what happened to the SLR cam I had asked for????????????? How many times should I miss such amazing clicks…:-( :-(.

I loved to see the clean washed roads, hardly few cars and bikes on the road with their lights on [no noise pollution], people hiding themselves under umbrellas, trees and roofs…..the rain pouring from the sky….wow wow wow…and at last the lady in my neighborhood picking up the clothes…..hehehe-idula oru alpa sandoshama…. Actually no-I love, adore and enjoy almost everything that’s happening related to rain-except the thunder and lightening.

If I start scribbling about rain then, I would never stop. Got to study for the class in the evening. It is raining more vigorously now, already water being accumulated in the corner of the roads. Another signal to make me stop writing-lights flickering here, I could encounter power shut down at anytime…so before that, let me bid bye for the day. Do check out the pics in "My photos".

Reading Vs Writing

Reading or Writing-which gives more pleasure? This question has been bothering me for quite sometime, might be from the day I started thinking seriously about writing.

Reading has always been my passion-no doubt about it. My reading habit started when I was as young as my Tin-Tin and Tinkle age and given a chance I would love to read them even now. Now, whenever mummy finds me with a Tinkle, she gives a sarcastic smile, which is stronger than her words, and Dad says “Why don’t you grow up? You have lots more to read and learn in this world.” He would have said this at least a dozen of times and hence I have zero interest to listen to it anymore. I have never shrunk my reading habit to any particular kind like fiction, non-fiction, romantic, etc. Give me any book [unless it has any pages missing/dirty/stolen] and you will see me disappear for the next few days.

Does writing mean the same to me? Well I can’t say a yes or a no, but 'might be yes'. Coz my writing involves others too-people who read them. I realized it is not just the passion that I need to write/scribble, but something more. For example when I read Dan Brown’s “Digital Fortress” and “Da Vinci Code” I started loving the art of cryptography [can I call it an art? Think so..] From then when I come across any word related to it….be it encryption, key, code, cipher just anyyyything….. my eyes goes wider, brows raised and ears sharper-that’s the power I could feel in his writing and that’s the power a writer needs. It is really astonishing that he could make me [not just me I’m sure there will be many] love something, even though I have heard about it before.

The writer’s words are meant to be like a magnet, where the readers being the opposite pole. For that, one needs to have a sound knowledge of the language and the grammar. Though I know 3 languages [both to read and write], for the 1st time in my life, I deeply regret that I’m still not comfortable expressing everything in just one language. I don’t know whether people who read my article are really enjoying it or at least they are getting the essence – something, which I want them to feel. Can I transfer my feelings through my writing? Can others enjoy it as much as I do? These questions are still buzzing in my mind. Writing gives me pleasure-but that is not all I want; I want even others to enjoy that pleasure. So yes I can conclude saying-I love Reading-100% and Writing- 50%...the rest lies in the satisfaction of the readers. Coz 50% I write for my pleasure and 50% to be enjoyed by others.

25th Anniversary

While uploading my parents’ 25th anniversary photos, I thought it will be nice if I could pen down my experiences in organizing the function.

During the month of March people started asking me about my birthday celebration [which was in the month of April] and then about my parents’ wedding day [in the month of May]. Only when they asked about my age, it clicked me that it was my parents’ 25th anniversary. From then I was restless, at least mentally, planning for the special day. I decided not to let my parents know about my plan till the last minute. It has to be a surprise for them.

Honestly, I really didn’t feel comfortable doing all that I did. I did it just coz I wanted my parents to feel happy and special on that day. So pushing my personal feelings aside I started with the budget. It was really funny when I realized that even to prepare the budget it is necessary to have some prior knowledge. So to get a rough idea about all this I had called my friend Poornima and enquired her about her engagement, which was a year ago. With that information I called Hotel Residency Towers [where her engagement held] to check the availability of the hall and the rates. I thought I could just sit at home and make everything happen through just a phone call, but it was not that easy. They had asked me to come to the hotel to have a look at the hall. By then I found the hotel’s website and was having a look at the halls. The halls were of different kinds according to the number of people it can accommodate. I can’t go for a bigger hall if I’m going to have just 50-100 guests. Again I stopped looking at the halls and started to list the people whom I have to invite-the toughest part in the procedure.

It was not very easy to pick out the people I had to invite. After breaking my head for an hour I had 2 lists, one with less than 50 people and another with more than 150. Everything seemed to be more complex now. I really didn’t know where to start and also whether I can spend more if I had to go with list 2. Dad might not like that many people as he prefers everything to be simple, so I was worried what if at last Dad is not happy seeing the huge crowd. For the next 1 week I was just sitting with the lists trying to make a 3rd and final one with not more than 75 people. I really couldn’t do that.

I was feeling guilty that I had already wasted a week’s time, when, I got a call from the hotel saying there are just 2 halls left and rest all booked for the 27th of May. Gosh, in just one weeks time!!!!!!!! My brain got heated up. Without having a 2nd thought told mummy I need the car to go to my friend’s house and was in the hotel in the next 45 minutes. The outside look impressed me. I enquired about booking halls in the reception and had met the concerned person. She told me that among the 2 halls just one is free to have a look at. Something is better than nothing-so said “Ok, can I see the hall?” She took me to the hall named “The Raj”. I remember seeing it in their website and also could recall that it can accommodate a minimum of 50 and a maximum of 100 people. I liked the hall-it was above satisfactory. So I just booked the hall by paying the advance. I asked them to arrange for a cake, discussed with them regarding the seating arrangements and to arrange a garland. The 1st two was ok, but she told me they don’t arrange for garlands. Fineeeeeeeee…I told myself. They gave me a list to choose the menu for the day, I got it and had a glance and told that will get back to them later. At last I’m done with deciding the hotel so now I have to strictly stick on to the list 3 I still had to prepare. I was little bit happy about doing at least one thing on time, otherwise I would have missed this hall. Ironically, only a week before the function I heard through someone that one can bargain on the hall rates-which is actually rated per plate and also it clicked me that I didn’t have any options for myself regarding the hotel. I heard about just one, saw the same one and booked it. Anyway it was too late to regret then-“Aarthi learn from your mistakes, though it costs you something”

Deciding the menu was the easiest part of this mission. Me being a food lover and had tasted almost everything on the menu it was really helpful. Thanks dad and mum for feeding me so well, at last it helped me to do something.

Durga, my family friend-to whom I told about my plans, came forward to help me and she was the one who arranged for the garlands. We both had the same florists in mind-actually they were the only florist I had known. She asked me the color code of my parent’s wear, their approximate height and then arranged the garland accordingly. I was really surprised to see her involvement. She even wanted to pay for this, but I said a sweet “no no” since I wanted to spend every penny for my parents.

Photos!!!-Though the photographer was my dad’s friend I didn’t have his contact number with me. All I knew about him was his name. Again Durga came for rescue and gave the number. I called him and he said he’s sick but will send another person. I couldn’t do much about this but just trust his words and rely on the new person. He didn’t disappoint me. You can see - the pictures were good.

Now or Never-I had to start inviting people, it was already late. I literally had to steal my parents’ friend’s phone numbers from their mobile while they were sleeping. It was really odd to talk to people for the 1st time, though I had known them before I had hardly spoke to them. Few were really surprised by my call, few apologized that they might not attend the function coz of their other plans and engagements and few were not reachable. The day before the function I found there were 50-75 people who would turn up tomorrow-exactly the number I wanted to stick on to. Surprising!!!

I wanted to keep the surprise till the last min but unfortunately my parents were planning for something else, so had to disclose it a day before. They were very happy to know and were really surprised that everyone around them knew except themselves.

All that happened during the function was unexpected-you can see the photos, it tells you everything. All went on fine as per the plan-I thought at least one would go wrong and so I was prepared not to panic and to manage everything till the day ends. People even appreciated me for what I did. Until they did so, I didn’t realize that everyone is not as fortunate as me to do something like this for their parents. Before going to bed I thanked God for giving me such an opportunity and making the day so memorable.

The next day morning Mum woke me up with a kiss on my forehead and with her beautiful smile. Dad came to me saying- “I used to get worried that my wedding album was a black and white one and now you gave us a colored one and fulfilled my wish. All night mum n I were talking about you. We are really proud to have a daughter like you”. They left my room saying this without noticing the tears that were rolling down my cheeks..:-) At last this is what any one would wish to hear from their parents-I never expected to hear it so soon.....:-)

60 yrs of Independence

Tomorrow, Aug 15th 2007; India is celebrating 60 years of Independence. For the past 2 years I was not in India, but I did celebrate Indian Independence. When I say this, I question myself- Did I really celebrate the day? Can I actually call it a celebration? Am I truly patriotic? Would I have envisioned it better, if I had been through slavery? To be frank I find it hard to give a clear answer to any of these questions. I’m sure almost every one of us, whom they consider patriotic, can try answering these simple questions and then come to a conclusion.

During my school days, all that I’ve realized on an “Independence Day” is – that it was a school holiday, day to watch special shows on TV [which would be as irrelevant as a romantic movie review, a movie star interview, debate on a topic something like –Is wife or a mum who plays the better part in a man’s life?, songs from new movies], etc. It was something like getting an additional Sunday in the same week. In the final years of my schooling all I remember doing was being a bit careful about the National flag, which I would pin on to my uniform and make sure I don’t drop it at least until I go home and get changed. I felt proud of myself for not dropping it on the floor/streets and stamp on it like many other crazy school kids do and who considered it as an act of heroism. I had neither thought about the country nor the people nor the government. If at all I had to face a question related to all this, my answer would have been-I’m not interested in politics and hence don’t know much about it-a blind, foolish statement. Now I realize, for one to love his/her own country they need not know politics.

Only when I was out of my country I have done the least- trying to emphasize the culture, tradition and other amazing facts about India to the outside world. I feel this is not all I could have done; I could have done more and as a citizen I have to do more. But how to start and where lies the problem?

Personally, I feel, being rebellious is not the only way to prove oneself patriotic, but everyone can give a try as much as they can. If people start thinking about this seriously I'm sure each one would come with a practical and simple suggestion. Parents can stress the importance of the Independence and Republic day to their children, not just the day but the importance of being a true citizen and let them understand what it actually means. Excerpts from the life of freedom fighters and freedom struggle can be told as short stories to make kids aware of the Indian History, than to make them learn it from schoolbooks, which many often find boring. This is just for a start…… but at the end I think every Indian should die with a fulfillment of having done at least 1 deed for his/her country.

I take this as an opportunity to disclose my desire to be a better human being and thus serve the nation in some way or the other. Also hoping to see a future filled with more ardent and enthusiastic individuals to support and lift the nation’s pride. [Thus creating a necessity for the shops to sell greeting cards for the Independence and Republic day, the telecom service providers to unusually charge extra for sending sms on days like Aug 15th, Jan 26th, Oct 2nd, to see clean roads without any worn out or torn tricolor flags and to wake up with the noise of bursting crackers and celebration of the whole country together without any differences.]

Now the time being 2.30 a.m IST I wish you all out there a “Very Happy Independence Day”.

Real Surprise!!!!!!

I love surprises and even to surprise others. I read my 1st blog a couple of times but never ever thought to check if there were any comments left for me and my writing. I was too sure that none would read such a silly blog. Today an hour ago, I was really really surprised to see a comment for my blog. I was chatting with my friend Karthik and was telling him about my blog. I sent him the link to get his feedback and only then I noticed that I already had one. Now, reading both the comments has motivated me to write more, in particular more sensible ones. Especially Karthik's comment is a bit too much of a praise, which would create more expectation. That is what he expects from me, by praising me he indirectly encourages me to write more and had also asked me to cover a variety of topics. I felt really special and happy to get boosted up by two individuals-one being an unknown person and another a good friend of mine. This blog is like a thanks giving note for the two of them who tried to give wings to my fire-according to the words of Mr.A.P.J.Abdul Kalam.So for the readers there I will try hard to give my best and according to Karthik-it is a hot cup of filter coffee on a rainy day-will serve you one soon Karthik.