<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-632060545697205220</id><updated>2012-02-16T03:57:41.660-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Malgudi Dayz</title><subtitle type='html'>Just some moments .. Malagudi Days .. the days of my Malagudi ..</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/632060545697205220/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>thepseudonymphomaniaclover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06397918571575629109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>8</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-632060545697205220.post-2892805882158599857</id><published>2011-11-23T11:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-23T11:51:17.474-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WHAT ABOUT THESE CIGARETTES?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;“Smoking is injurious to health.”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;img src="http://api.ning.com/files/qLNeX-GdiJ*rfcF8pM1CW2f472U6wpcyHehPrs435UgwkH5m0QKkIYRUI3dioxApmvF3XH41VooB4U8Kg-ag5dPvB6iw92xkfJFP87ZO9lU_/smoking.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;One cannot count the number of times this particular warning has been flashed on the television screen or it appeared on the newspapers. What is it about smoking that the government has forced the cigarette producing companies place this notice(piece of shit) literally everywhere?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Well for beginners, this is a small list of effects that smoking brings to one:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;· Heart: Smoking is the biggest risk factor for all heart diseases. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;· Lungs: Smoking destroys small hairs present in upper parts of airways. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;· Smoking causes heart burn, delays healing of peptic ulcers, increases risk of crohn's disease and formation of gall stones. It affects liver and increases chances of stomach cancer.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;· Legs: Smoking affects blood vessels of legs causing chronic pain in legs. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;· Eyes: The sensitive blood vessels of eye are easily damaged by smoking. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;· Skin: Due to smoking the skin is deprived of oxygen and it loses its texture. An average smoker looks 5 years older than his healthy non smoking counterparts. tic tissues of skin.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;· Bones: It accelerates the process of osteoporosis&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;· Cancer: Smoking causes cancer of lungs, larynx, oral cavity, pharynx, oesophagus and bladder. Tobacco smoke contains more than 60 substances which cause cancer. 87% lung cancer death occurs due to smoking.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;· Reproductive system: Smoking reduces fertility in both men and women.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;So, the probability of one leaving smoking after reading all this is what? One must think of like 1.1 or 110%. However, it is not so. People; and my mention of people also includes those who are in the big BoG rooms, in the ministry, the top level CEOs; are addicted to smoking. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Now, it is the duty of government to put a stop to this addiction. How do they do it? News Flash: “All cigarette packets must have the big warning on its packet.” To be frank doing anything after this would be interference on government’s part to control the free will of the people who constitute the nation.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Now, one is forced to think that if cigarettes are so injurious why do the companies produce it? Are they not aware of the consequence? See they are actually. But how can they stop these businesses which give them so much money. It is impossible to imagine an Indian Tobacco Company without that packet of cigarette. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;But one must think that, “Hey. It’s not good on their part. They know that they are leading a whole generation of young and old people towards a slow death.” But, that is where the argument comes again. It is people who want the cigarette, and that is why they produce it. It is a demand driven market. So, ITC is producing it.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Since long, the Government of India, has been making the cigarette making companies put this warning on the packet covers; “Smoking is injurious to health.” &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;However, since long they knew that this piece of information was not actually serving its purpose. So they came out with the new, pictorial warning idea. The idea was to scare people away from smoking by showing them a picture of what actually smoking was doing to them. However, even this idea was diluted, as the picture that the cigarette packets carry now is that of a Scorpion, which frankly is not very effective to communicate its message. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;In India, the cigarette packets carry the warning in the front of it and it covers only 40% of the area of the packet. When compared to the standards in Uruguay, the warning covers 80% of the cover; front and back both. This involvement of government in Uruguay shows a more active concern towards the smoking issue. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;In a brave attempt to control smoking, the government, a few years back had issued an order that people cannot smoke at any public place. The law also bans direct and indirect advertising of tobacco products and the sale of cigarettes to children. However, the implementation of the same failed miserably and people still smoke freely in the streets.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Tobacco smoking in India kills 900,000 people a year. According to a 1996 survey reported by AP news agency, 112 million people smoke tobacco in India, while some 96 million use tobacco products like chewing tobacco. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/632060545697205220-2892805882158599857?l=thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com/feeds/2892805882158599857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=632060545697205220&amp;postID=2892805882158599857' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/632060545697205220/posts/default/2892805882158599857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/632060545697205220/posts/default/2892805882158599857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com/2011/11/what-about-these-cigarettes.html' title='WHAT ABOUT THESE CIGARETTES?'/><author><name>thepseudonymphomaniaclover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06397918571575629109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-632060545697205220.post-8268717469411258735</id><published>2011-11-22T10:04:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-22T10:04:28.328-08:00</updated><title type='text'>From windows writer!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Lets see what kind of shit this thing does here. Claims a lot. May be not. Its been a long time since I posted anything here or for that matter anywhere else.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Lets add a picture now.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-LQMhf9g1lxo/TsvkEvlvWpI/AAAAAAAAFDA/LyjPh-xgOQU/s1600-h/Pockettanks-high%252520score%25255B3%25255D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="Pockettanks-high score" border="0" alt="Pockettanks-high score" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-NORdEL6Fs4M/TsvkKDccbFI/AAAAAAAAFDI/tLrlUCprfGI/Pockettanks-high%252520score_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="322" height="258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Does add a picture. Its in the writer. Will have to check it online as well once I get finished by this post.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Tried looking for a video to upload but couldn’t find any. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;So, TEST BLOG!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/632060545697205220-8268717469411258735?l=thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com/feeds/8268717469411258735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=632060545697205220&amp;postID=8268717469411258735' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/632060545697205220/posts/default/8268717469411258735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/632060545697205220/posts/default/8268717469411258735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com/2011/11/lets-see-what-kind-of-shit-this-thing.html' title='From windows writer!'/><author><name>thepseudonymphomaniaclover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06397918571575629109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh4.ggpht.com/-NORdEL6Fs4M/TsvkKDccbFI/AAAAAAAAFDI/tLrlUCprfGI/s72-c/Pockettanks-high%252520score_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-632060545697205220.post-5988658521447167998</id><published>2010-02-13T19:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-13T19:49:18.600-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dedicated to you!</title><content type='html'>I lost loads yesterday..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/632060545697205220-5988658521447167998?l=thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com/feeds/5988658521447167998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=632060545697205220&amp;postID=5988658521447167998' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/632060545697205220/posts/default/5988658521447167998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/632060545697205220/posts/default/5988658521447167998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com/2010/02/dedicated-to-you.html' title='Dedicated to you!'/><author><name>thepseudonymphomaniaclover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06397918571575629109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-632060545697205220.post-8131096834758235251</id><published>2008-04-09T00:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T00:18:17.287-07:00</updated><title type='text'>time and time again ..</title><content type='html'>they said its just a journey&lt;br /&gt;all you have to do is walk&lt;br /&gt;walk with the smooth talk&lt;br /&gt;with the trees that come across&lt;br /&gt;with the roads that you walk&lt;br /&gt;but it never was so simple&lt;br /&gt;cause it could never be&lt;br /&gt;time and time again i looked around&lt;br /&gt;just to know that i am still alive&lt;br /&gt;time and time again i found&lt;br /&gt;i need to walk alone..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they said its just your illusion&lt;br /&gt;all you have to do is close your eyes&lt;br /&gt;and wake up again&lt;br /&gt;wake up again&lt;br /&gt;to find the sweet mushy rain&lt;br /&gt;it will wash away all your delusional pain&lt;br /&gt;your life is not surreal&lt;br /&gt;you think that its disdain&lt;br /&gt;go, stand in the rain&lt;br /&gt;it'll ease the pain&lt;br /&gt;but it was not so simple&lt;br /&gt;cause it wasn't&lt;br /&gt;time and time again i looked around&lt;br /&gt;just to know that i am still alive&lt;br /&gt;time and time again i found&lt;br /&gt;i need to walk alone..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they said its just the matter of time&lt;br /&gt;the Sun will rise again&lt;br /&gt;and take over the darkness&lt;br /&gt;all you have to do is trust&lt;br /&gt;trust the unseen&lt;br /&gt;cause you just came here&lt;br /&gt;the lights will caress&lt;br /&gt;and you will feel the love that resides inside&lt;br /&gt;and i know you'll get excess&lt;br /&gt;but it is not so simple&lt;br /&gt;cause it cant be&lt;br /&gt;time and time again i looked around&lt;br /&gt;just to know that i am still alive&lt;br /&gt;time and time again i found&lt;br /&gt;i need to walk alone..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/632060545697205220-8131096834758235251?l=thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com/feeds/8131096834758235251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=632060545697205220&amp;postID=8131096834758235251' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/632060545697205220/posts/default/8131096834758235251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/632060545697205220/posts/default/8131096834758235251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com/2008/04/time-and-time-again_09.html' title='time and time again ..'/><author><name>thepseudonymphomaniaclover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06397918571575629109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-632060545697205220.post-606353702108963734</id><published>2008-01-03T08:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-05T04:02:25.414-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I wish ..</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:100%;" &gt;I am not a perfect person&lt;br /&gt;but i wish life was easy&lt;br /&gt;for it keeps me on my nerves&lt;br /&gt;running all the while&lt;br /&gt;so little time to breath&lt;br /&gt;yet living discreetly&lt;br /&gt;panting like a shot panther&lt;br /&gt;just when i feel my feet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not a perfect person&lt;br /&gt;but i feel so weak&lt;br /&gt;for light keeps leaving me&lt;br /&gt;over to darkness&lt;br /&gt;de-illuminating me&lt;br /&gt;for the greater good&lt;br /&gt;the december wind passes through me&lt;br /&gt;and oh its so cold&lt;br /&gt;cold like a dead phoenix.&lt;br /&gt;the child inside feels cold&lt;br /&gt;and so does the soul&lt;br /&gt;for all they could do now is&lt;br /&gt;wait for the light to return&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not a perfect person&lt;br /&gt;but i wish i was sinful&lt;br /&gt;for i couldnt care for my whiteness&lt;br /&gt;the pureness inside me&lt;br /&gt;dying all the while&lt;br /&gt;playing with the lusty heart&lt;br /&gt;sometimes it goes wild&lt;br /&gt;disturbing the open sky&lt;br /&gt;painting it white again&lt;br /&gt;for all it wants&lt;br /&gt;is a pure white world again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not a perfect person&lt;br /&gt;but i wish i could stop trying&lt;br /&gt;resting for some time&lt;br /&gt;to get myself together&lt;br /&gt;relaxing my tired bones&lt;br /&gt;and paint a free river&lt;br /&gt;which flows through every moment&lt;br /&gt;that i have been through&lt;br /&gt;reminding me of everything found&lt;br /&gt;everything lost&lt;br /&gt;every turn with a funeral&lt;br /&gt;and every twist with a boy at the hair shedding ceremony&lt;br /&gt;everything that smelled like camphor&lt;br /&gt;and everything that had the fragrance of jasmine&lt;br /&gt;every single drop of tear that spoke&lt;br /&gt;that sunk deep into the heart&lt;br /&gt;that dried in the eyes&lt;br /&gt;every found penny&lt;br /&gt;and every lost diamond&lt;br /&gt;every found love&lt;br /&gt;and every lost one&lt;br /&gt;every longed phrase&lt;br /&gt;and every silent word&lt;br /&gt;for all i want is&lt;br /&gt;my happy world&lt;br /&gt;my longed happy world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not a perfect person&lt;br /&gt;but i wish&lt;br /&gt;i wish ............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                                                   ~ Aryan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/632060545697205220-606353702108963734?l=thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com/feeds/606353702108963734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=632060545697205220&amp;postID=606353702108963734' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/632060545697205220/posts/default/606353702108963734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/632060545697205220/posts/default/606353702108963734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-wish.html' title='I wish ..'/><author><name>thepseudonymphomaniaclover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06397918571575629109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-632060545697205220.post-2666367097031266114</id><published>2007-08-31T22:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-31T22:17:30.855-07:00</updated><title type='text'>la alba ..</title><content type='html'>It was 4.00 AM. My eyes were open. I was staring at the fan above my head. Although i wasnt able to figure out what they were, i was sure that the blades were taking something away from me. Something painfully beautiful. Something which i loved. As i wondered what they were, a single drop of tear escaped from my eye, running from my left eye to my left ear, saying or rather singing something. Something painfully beautiful, like the song of dying phoenix we keep on talking about, like a fire in the jungle, like a free kite in the sky. Something which was painful yet beautiful. Lost in thoughts i wondered what was this all about? Why these odd thoughts? What was the reason of the single drop of water, running from the left eye to the left ear, saying something? I tried to listen to the tears again, to my wonder they spoke again, they sang again, but i still wasnt able to interpret their signs, their language, their synchronization. It was perfect, was again painful yet beautiful. I tried hard to talk to them. I tried asking them who was mastering this synchronization, who was it? In reply, they sang in unison, they sang in painfully beautiful unison. I looked around for help, may be somebody could help me. The darkness stared back at me in reply. Then the singing stopped, the sound of music was gone. All i could hear now was the sound of blades taking away something, something painfully beautiful, something i loved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Irritated by that something, i gave up. Closed my eyes again. Tried to block all those thoughts. Tried to empty the empty vessel full of air. Unable to do so, i started my day by emptying the bed. Put on my white serene t-shirt and opened the door. Painted in yellow and blue with a red knob, the door reminded me of the school uniform. Yellow signifying the shirt, Blue signifying the pant and the Red knob signifying the belt that was used to bond these two, small beautiful handsome things tightly. I shrugged the thought away and stepped into the dead deafening silence of the empty corridor. The corridor, so alive, so noisy, so lively during the day and the corridor, so dead, so silent, so peaceful at this hour of the day. Even the corridor had two dresses. One noisy, alive and lively dress which it uses during the day and One dead, silent, peaceful which is used at this hour of the day at which words are spoken and sung by the single drop of tear that escapes from people's eyes running from their left eye to their left ear. Pulling in the strings towards me, i tried to undress it, the corridor, wanting to see what was it, what was inside. All the corridor offered was its dead impenetrable silent darkness. May be there was never a dress for the corridor, may be it changed bodies like our hindu dead people do. Or may be it was again, two small beautiful handsome things held tightly by the red knob. The Yellow morning and the Blue night, held tightly by that tiny red knob, the Sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Painfully Smiling at the corridor, i made my way to the washroom. Performing the daily morning rituals, i still was thinking what was it. What was that something painfully beautiful? And so many thoughts, why? Wondering all this i came back to my room. Picked up my cell, found 2 new messages. Both from a friend of mine, one message saying Thanks, and the other one saying Gud nite. Now this brought me back to my previous stupid being. Could that person be so stupid, that she was saying a Thanks in one message, and Gud nite in another after 40 seconds. Or was it the aftermath. My conscious was racing, mind subtle, i was flying again, in the air, talking to the goddess of beauty, with searching eyes. Would it be so bad? I mean why was this going to be bad at all? She just kept on looking with those searching eyes somewhere. Searching for something. I realized, when they rested at me, the eyes, they surely found some serenity, but there still was this certain fear, this certain unknown fear, this certain unknown painfully beautiful fear. Looking deep into those searching, feared, painfully beautiful eyes, i raised the question again. Why not? She just smiled through her painfully beautiful eyes, being practical, she called this, being practical. She didnt say anything, she just kept looking at me, as if she was speaking with those painfully beautiful eyes, as if she was singing with those painfully beautiful eyes. It, the ambience, was painfully beautiful again. All of a sudden, i was falling, the goddess of beauty just kept looking at me, those painfully beautiful eyes getting more searching than beautiful, the colors in those beautiful eyes draining, a single drop of tear escaping from her left eye to left ear, saying or rather singing something. Something painfully beautiful. Something she loved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was then that i realised, it was her beautiful eyes, the blades were taking away. It was then that i realised, it was beauty, that the blades were taking away. It was memories, that the blades were taking away. It was the happy times, that the blades were taking away. All so painful, yet so beautiful. All so painfully beautiful. All something i loved.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/632060545697205220-2666367097031266114?l=thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com/feeds/2666367097031266114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=632060545697205220&amp;postID=2666367097031266114' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/632060545697205220/posts/default/2666367097031266114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/632060545697205220/posts/default/2666367097031266114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com/2007/08/la-alba.html' title='la alba ..'/><author><name>thepseudonymphomaniaclover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06397918571575629109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-632060545697205220.post-6751887884446388967</id><published>2007-07-06T10:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-06T10:10:25.631-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the guide ... travel with me ..</title><content type='html'>It had been long i had read a novel ... Its not like i am very interested in them or something like that but its jus that .... yes sometimes i jus enjoy them ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently had the chance to go through this R. K. Narayanan stuff ... THE GUIDE ... And i must tell yu its really something that evry single human should go through atleast once in his life ... I mean while reading this piece of art i actually found myself there ... imagining all that stuff ... Yeah probably yu might be wondering what the heck this guy is talking about ... but its not that ... the writer actually brings out the emotions of the character so well that yu are left with nothing else but the emotions of the character pounding on yu...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its the story of a common guy ... jus like any other human ... jus like us ... who grew up alongside the Railway Station, along with the sand piles, playing under the huge mammoth tree ... who fell in love with another girl and who kicked his mother out of her own home ... Its the story of someone who transformed from an innocent spoiled brat to a money-headed guide, to a manager of a bharat-natyam dancer, to a lovely prisoner, to a cunning emotionless swami ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With his father being an Betel shop owner and his mother being an housewife ... this kid was a spoiled brat who spent most of his time playing games under this huge tree ... as he grew up, he saw his playground turn into a fully fledged station and fell in love with it ... As the story sails, the reader passes through a million of emotions of RAILWAY RAJU from his childhood to his adolscence ... he inherites the shop his father owned on the station and very soon became popular among the tourists as it was the only shop on that station at that time ... but very soon because of his hunger for money and attitude to keep the tourist happy, he found this new career in the form of a guide ... This was when he met this couple who were willing to be guided for a tour to Malgudi and fell in love with other half of that couple ... the girl's name was Rosie ... a self-reliable lady who wanted a person who appreciates her and her dance ... and for that appreciation she mended to an unmendable state ... and despite this, her other half wasnt interested in her as he was too busy in the walls of ancient temples ... struggling Rosie finds comfort in the arms of RAILWAY RAJU who seduced her with the best effort ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we turn the pages of the book, we explore the complexities of relationships ... the mother-son relationship ... the man-woman relationship ... the husband-wife relationship as Raju finds a new career in dancing for Rosie ... the saint-blesswanter relationship of Raju and Velan ... the story unwinds itself and the reader finds the Protagonist as a saint in front of a thousand bhakts, giving them lessons on life ... and in the end, the protagonist finds himself analysing his own life for the first time ....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be truthful, it was an awesome experience after such a long time .. i would only add up one last final thing ... if yu ever get the chance, surely have a drive with THE GUIDE ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/632060545697205220-6751887884446388967?l=thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com/feeds/6751887884446388967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=632060545697205220&amp;postID=6751887884446388967' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/632060545697205220/posts/default/6751887884446388967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/632060545697205220/posts/default/6751887884446388967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com/2007/07/guide-travel-with-me.html' title='the guide ... travel with me ..'/><author><name>thepseudonymphomaniaclover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06397918571575629109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-632060545697205220.post-1511541138722917490</id><published>2007-06-29T09:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-06T09:24:14.913-07:00</updated><title type='text'>summer of 99</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;It might appear a little too stupid thing to remember ... but hell yeah when i remember it ... i feel so much blesssed ... so much covered with the paint of the love of the god ... Not much of us&lt;indian&gt; wud have had the oppurtunity to sit on a bed inside a fully fledged Girls' College's Girls' Hostel ... hell yeah i cud remember every single detail of that day ... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It happened when i was in the 7th standard ... It was the summer holidays 1999... I was in my hometown ... CUTTACK ... the place of fairies for what i recall ... It was a boring day ... Mom and Dad were busy, as usual, in their daily routines ... My Grandpa and Grandma had decided to go the village for that day ... And that left me and my brother alone ... I did the daily rituals ... kicked my little brothers ass ... ate the daily allowed dose of icecream ... By the time i finished all these i thot i had passed a big amount of the day ... and then it happened... i looked over my moms shoulder, from the kitchen, with the tilted head ... and all of a sudden i had this feeling ... i felt like a knife had beeen pushed into my stomach and was being pushed and pushed further with all the force the almighty had ... it was 10.15 AM ... jus 10.15 ... i could not believe it ... i had completed almost my every single daily activity and it was 10.15 ... i had no idea what i was going to do ... the whole day waited for me like a big giant demon with its mouth open as if all it had to do was to take me in ... And then it came to me, this is it ... This is how i am going to die ... And then i saw that Angel ... he was my Uncle ... Mamu, i called him ... He was all dressed up ... And that could mean only one thing in the world ... He was going out ... I knew if i ever had the oppurtunity to make this boring day colorful, then this was it ... I started to cry out loud ... My mamu stopped the doing the famous RajniKant cut and came running to me ... yeah Rajnikant was a famous and admired man then ... He had this now-what-happened look on his face ... I cried out louder ... and thus came the success, the victory ... hardwork in crying out loud had finally paid off ... I was on my Mamu's bike ... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Boy i could tell, from the look he was giving me, he was really pissed off at me ... Enjoying the hot breeze of the summer of 99, i asked him the so usual yet so pissing off question ... Where are we going mamu ... He didnt answer me ... He jus gave me that dont-you-bother-asshole look ... fine by me ... and thats when it hit me ... it was friday ... We were going to pick my mausi from SB ... yeah guys ... SB - the famous Shaila Bala Womens' College ... Finally god gave my life the green light ... that yes you could actually enjoy a few moments with those lovely grown up fairies of SB ... you could actually talk to them .. you could actually smell their hair ... from a distance of course ... But yu know, sometimes god could be irrationally rationale with yu in case of luck ... he could jus pour all the sweet honey he had in that pot on yu ... who knew it wasnt jus my lucky day ... it was the luckiest day any alive person could ever have had on planet earth ...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;We reached the heaven ... At heavvens' door mamu asked the Gatekeeper to call my Mausi ... Now, the gatekeeper was a proudy man ... i mean it ... he was very proud of his duty ... guarding the Girls' Hostel ... Boy i was reconsidering my career here ... How would it be to be a gatekeeper .... watching the Girls moving in and moving out of the hostel ... moving in - moving out ... It would be so nice ... i could actually talk to them whenever i want ... i could actually look at them for infinity ... And i could be actually be callled Bhaina ... Wait a minute ... I could actually be called Bhaina .. No way ... No way ... Career dumped ... Engineers' good ... I was busy in my thoughts when another good one came ... it was have-a-look-at-yourself-first-stupid thought ... oh my god ... i wasnt prepared for this at all ... i wasnt prepared to meet a 100 beautiful lovely chocolate candies ... and then came the four classic stages ... denial ... anger ... guilt ... and finally depression ... how could i do this to myself ... how cud i come unprepared to the SB Womens' College without preparation ... how could i not have had a makeup before ... this was so humiliating ... i couldnt do this to myself ... Then i remembered this sweet voice inside me ... Wait a minute ... Neha had said that I looked cute ... yeah most of yu wouldnt agree to that but yeah she said that ... and thus i felt a new confidence building inside me ... i went to the bike ... looked in the mirror ... Look at little me ... not that bad ... a little taller ... a little more filled out ... i was good ... i gave my hair a little makeup with my hands ... and decided to take on the fate ...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The gatekeeper bhaina had finally arrived .. and so did my mausi ... ohh she looked so pretty in that pink t-shirt and blue jeans ... But wait a minute ... She picked me up and gave me a kiss on my cheek ... i felt like i had jus swallowed a huge giant stone ... No no ... Not acceptable ... i mean an empty house with my mom and dad and family was fine but this was going way out of hands ... in the public .. she picked me up jus like that ... and then she kissed me on the cheek ... jus like that .... how could she do that ... it was SB Women Colleges' Hostel ... i couldnt be more embarrased ... i could see ... the gals laughing at me .... i could hear them saying see that little stupid kid who gets picked up jus like that ... it was too much ... i was humiliated ... beyond expectations ... i had to do something ... i wanted to hit her ... that stupid gal in pink t-shirt and blue jeans ... who does she think she was ... and i ended up doing something ... i ended up rubbing my cheek ... but even then the stupid girl wasnt done .... as she went to my mamu, she slapped me on her way ... i felt like crying ... but i cudnt do that ... this was SB Womens' Colleges' Hostel ... i cannot do that ... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Anyway ... i stood there ... Maintaining a distance 100 zillion miles from my mausi ... My mamu and mausi got into serious talking ... And all of a sudden my mamu had his finger at my direction ... he was pointing me and saying something ... and from his lip movement i figured it out ... it was pretty much something like ... " I cannot take that stupid dumb foolish kid with me ..." ... He started to kick his bike ... Now i was confused ... he hadnt callled me ... what am i gonna go ... do i have to return home on my own ... no he couldnt do that to me ... its not fair ... and thats when it hit me ... thats when i realised how great god was ... how much he loved me ... i couldnt believe it ... and then i heard it ... "Lipu, yu are gonna stay with me in my hostel for some time" ... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I had this new respect for this young lady ... i wanted to worship her ... i decided to do that ... We went to mausi's room ... She asked me to sit on the bed and went out ... Gals came in from every possible door and talked to me, laughed with me, played with me ... i wasnt sure what was this all about but yeah it surely felt good ... man i was in heaven ... i mean the room wasnt that good but yeah something was there ... it was so ... so ... i still cannot figure out what that was ... but it really had something in it ... and then something happened ... the beautifullest ... loveliest ... cutest angel appeared out from a door ... she had this pink suit on ... God she was beautiful ... i had never seen anything like that ... i felt like climbing the highest mountain ... i felt like diving into the deepest ocean ... i felt like picking her up and kiss her all over ... and then it happened ... she came to me ... she took my face into her hands and started kissing me ... it was a intense but soothing kiss ... i was in heaven ... i was with an Angel ... and BAAAAAM .... and i was dreaming ... She was still at the doorsteps ... and then came the obvious question ... "Who are you and what are yu doing on my bed ..." ... I made the smartest yet the cutest expression i could make ... and answered her .... Introduced myself to the love of my life ... She came to me, sat near me and said ... " Jasmine here sweetie ..." .... oh my god ... this girl was all over me ... Wait a minute ... Did she said Sweetie ... sweetie ... yeah ... we were so bonded ... I was in love ... I wanted to take her in my arms and dance with her forever ... and sit there and talk to her forever ... And then may be if her parents would agree we could marry and have two cute little daughters .. Disha and Drishti ... hmmmmmmm .... we talked ... and we talked and we talked ... and thts when mausi came and said its the time to go ... I didnt wanted to leave ... but i had to go ... i thought Jasmine would stop mausi ... i kinda had this feeling that she loved me too ... i had this feeling that we were like lovebirds ... i had this feeling that we are gonna be the cutest couple ever and so on... And thats when she said ... "Have a nice summer lipu ..." .. I was in shock ... wait a minute ... this girl loved me ... i loved her ... and all she had was ... " Have a nice summer ... " ... I was broken ... i wanted to kill myself .... i was humiliated ... i mean what was all that talking and evrything about .... I walked out of that room with a new lesson ... I learned a new lesson of life ... God had taught me a new lesson ... "NEVER LOVE A GIRL WITH WHOM YOU ARE FACE TO BOOBS ... ALWAYS MAINTAIN A FACE TO FACE RELATIONSHIP ..."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/632060545697205220-1511541138722917490?l=thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com/feeds/1511541138722917490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=632060545697205220&amp;postID=1511541138722917490' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/632060545697205220/posts/default/1511541138722917490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/632060545697205220/posts/default/1511541138722917490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thepseudonymphomaniaclover.blogspot.com/2007/06/summer-of-99.html' title='summer of 99'/><author><name>thepseudonymphomaniaclover</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06397918571575629109</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
