<?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-3399631395932953597</id><updated>2012-01-31T01:42:16.039+05:30</updated><category term='Reviews'/><category term='Self Analysis'/><category term='Sketches'/><category term='Memoirs'/><category term='Path'/><category term='Aisey hi'/><category term='2nd Bloganniversary'/><category term='FBI (Facebook Imports)'/><category term='Poems'/><category term='F.R.I.E.N.D.S'/><category term='Humour'/><category term='Tags'/><category term='Hindi'/><category term='College'/><category term='Conversations'/><category term='The Chick and The Bitch'/><category term='Practically Speaking'/><category term='Yay to May'/><category term='Lyrics'/><category term='Risk'/><category term='Fiction'/><category term='Epi-funny'/><category term='Food for Thought'/><category term='Lists'/><category term='Ist Bloganniversary :)'/><title type='text'>The Wanderer</title><subtitle type='html'>I don't know where we are going but I like the direction...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>203</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-7515422045460962453</id><published>2012-01-06T21:55:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-19T00:17:13.017+05:30</updated><title type='text'>2011: An Epilogue</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Year of Achievement&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was thousands of feet above the ground (flying to Goa),&lt;br /&gt;I was a few feet below it (in the Goan sea),&lt;br /&gt;I was shouting at the top of my voice (when India won the world cup),&lt;br /&gt;and I was silent for three whole days (at Pachmarhi)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I travelled in a group (of 68 people to Rishikesh)&lt;br /&gt;and I travelled alone (to Pachmarhi)&lt;br /&gt;I laid my bum and didn't move it for hours (in Goa)&lt;br /&gt;and I walked 21 kms (in Goverdhan)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drove a dZire and a Xylo (both on the way to Goverdhan)&lt;br /&gt;and I also drove a tractor (in Govedhan)&lt;br /&gt;I crossed 130 km/hr (not in the tractor silly)&lt;br /&gt;and I also drove more than 3,000 kms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was on a hill and I crossed a river&lt;br /&gt;and I lived in a tent and won Rs. 250 for singing (Yeah me of all people!)&lt;br /&gt;I worked on a farm&lt;br /&gt;and I auditioned for a TV show&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;I started a web comic (Have you met the Chick and the Bitch?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and the Planet of Sheer Awesomeness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;(with &lt;a href="http://ashuspeak.blogspot.com/"&gt;Ashu&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I cried so much with no places to cry&lt;br /&gt;and I laughed so much I nearly died&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw the world through rosy glasses&lt;br /&gt;and I got grey-coloured lenses&lt;br /&gt;I got to know new people&lt;br /&gt;and I came to know myself....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized it was less about pictures and more about the experience - of being in the moment. And the biggest and most consistent lesson: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;When life throws lemons at you,  you make lemonade. ... Loads of it! and also try posing for its advertising  campaign! &lt;/span&gt;Because, when you are busy enjoying making the lemonade - life will salute your  spirit and throw in free snacks ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Year of Almost&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In some respects, 2011 was also an 'almost' year.&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;almost &lt;/span&gt;quit my job.&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;almost&lt;/span&gt; saw Metallica performing live.&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;almost &lt;/span&gt;deep-sea-dived.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... and I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;almost &lt;/span&gt;told someone I loved them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was very close to doing it, but didn't do it. Yeah... almost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Year of Finally&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Finally &lt;/span&gt;closed down dad's business. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Finally &lt;/span&gt;wept the last tears and finally have moved on. The path was long, it took three years to do this, but we made it. And made it like a boss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the professional front, 2011 was the most change I could have possibly seen at work. Everything changed, I mean everything - Work, boss, team, office - yes, everything. Though &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;finally&lt;/span&gt;, I know now, I can live through any sort of change. It will turn out okay as long as I want it to turn out okay. So, to challenge myself, I changed everything once again. A new country awaits. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Finally&lt;/span&gt;, getting over my fear of change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend wrote: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;There is whirlwind of things happening around you  all the time, and you talk fast and think fast and too much. But I  suspect it is just the observer/listener that's confused in the end. You &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Know &lt;/span&gt;what you just said and it will make perfect sense if people waited  to understand the logic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly I would like to remember 2011 with a compliment I received from my secret Santa in the office this year: &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;To the happiest person I have ever seen&lt;/span&gt;, Merry Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..and when I stopped to look back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;and reflect over the journey so far&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I saw myself and what I have become&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;and knew it was was worth the pain, it was worth the scar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-7515422045460962453?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/7515422045460962453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=7515422045460962453' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7515422045460962453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7515422045460962453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2012/01/2011-epilogue.html' title='2011: An Epilogue'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-5478092752565213185</id><published>2011-11-03T23:41:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-05T00:15:05.378+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FBI (Facebook Imports)'/><title type='text'>Chi-haan ya Chi-na?</title><content type='html'>Will you exchange a walk on part in a war for a lead role in a cage? No? Ok!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-5478092752565213185?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/5478092752565213185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=5478092752565213185' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5478092752565213185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5478092752565213185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/11/chi-haan-ya-chi-na.html' title='Chi-haan ya Chi-na?'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-1144335061769198988</id><published>2011-10-30T19:35:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-10-31T11:20:38.529+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Closure II</title><content type='html'>The End.&lt;br /&gt;End of 28 years of existence,&lt;br /&gt;End of 24 years of memories.&lt;br /&gt;Little by little a cracked heart crumbles&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The things he wouldn't let us touch now lay waste&lt;br /&gt;as I turn my back to those good ol'days&lt;br /&gt;The source of stickers on my school books&lt;br /&gt;and of candy and computer games&lt;br /&gt;The place where I learnt to drive&lt;br /&gt;and the one where I got my first salary&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is this feeling that I can't name&lt;br /&gt;It has eight parts of sadness&lt;br /&gt;one part hope&lt;br /&gt;hoping I'd learn to accept the change&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You can't erase&lt;br /&gt;You can't replace it&lt;br /&gt;So hard to stay&lt;br /&gt;Too hard to leave it&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-1144335061769198988?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/1144335061769198988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=1144335061769198988' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1144335061769198988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1144335061769198988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/10/closure-ii.html' title='Closure II'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-4893975575528238011</id><published>2011-10-30T00:47:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-10-30T00:48:28.503+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Just a day when I...</title><content type='html'>... am not looking forward to tomorrow at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;If I could, fly away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ooo and I wouldn't come back no more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;, I'd turn around,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Just to see it the last time,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;See, now I know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hey, that it won't be easy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I done fought in a battle, and I done made it this far&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I gotta few more feet, but its still the longest yard.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/3399631395932953597-4893975575528238011?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/4893975575528238011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=4893975575528238011' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/4893975575528238011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/4893975575528238011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/10/just-day-when-i.html' title='Just a day when I...'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-4276035212992155288</id><published>2011-10-24T23:44:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-05T00:15:05.378+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FBI (Facebook Imports)'/><title type='text'>KC hai re</title><content type='html'>Tu kaisi hai (Tu KC hai)&lt;br /&gt;Tu din raat bhar soti hai, Tu kaisi hai (Tu KC hai) *a jhin jhin chuck*&lt;br /&gt;Tu stage pe guitar bajati hai&lt;br /&gt;tu logon ko jalati hai Tu kaisi hai (Tu KC hai)&lt;br /&gt;[Censored lyrics involving sexy legs]&lt;br /&gt;Tu kaisi hai (Tu KC hai)&lt;br /&gt;Long legs baby - oh yeah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... Written for Keshavi Sharma; Performed for the first time on 24/10/2011 at 1AM IST by the famous artists Angad and Nishi. Watch out for their next track: Nakad badhe shauk se, udhaar agle shauk se!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Happy Birthday Kappii!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-4276035212992155288?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/4276035212992155288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=4276035212992155288' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/4276035212992155288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/4276035212992155288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/10/kc-hai-re.html' title='KC hai re'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-4556309685732120752</id><published>2011-10-18T21:51:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2011-10-18T22:32:52.184+05:30</updated><title type='text'>iScream</title><content type='html'>Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just felt like shouting at the top of my voice. X(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-4556309685732120752?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/4556309685732120752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=4556309685732120752' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/4556309685732120752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/4556309685732120752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/10/iscream.html' title='iScream'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-6780776901053172501</id><published>2011-10-14T09:59:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-10-18T23:18:17.518+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Our deepest fear...</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are&lt;br /&gt;powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens&lt;br /&gt;us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?'&lt;br /&gt;Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does&lt;br /&gt;not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other&lt;br /&gt;people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children&lt;br /&gt;do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not&lt;br /&gt;just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we&lt;br /&gt;unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated&lt;br /&gt;from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;― Marianne Williamson, A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of a Course in Miracles&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-6780776901053172501?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/6780776901053172501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=6780776901053172501' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/6780776901053172501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/6780776901053172501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/10/our-deepest-fear-is-not-that-we-are.html' title='Our deepest fear...'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-3084846485787381392</id><published>2011-10-09T21:24:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2011-10-10T00:23:35.513+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Closure</title><content type='html'>There is something heavy placed on my heart&lt;br /&gt;I have tried to let it go, but have never known where to start...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so many years later your memories still haunt me&lt;br /&gt;asking me their due, to do what you want me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so here I am packing up where you left&lt;br /&gt;and pushing those bits further in to the depths&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it is difficult to clear up after a storm passes&lt;br /&gt;this hasn't been easy, not with the shards of glasses&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the lanes, the tables, even the air reminds of you&lt;br /&gt;of what you said you can and what you wouldn't do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the things you touched and the papers you arranged&lt;br /&gt;the boxes you filled - Nothing much has changed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the trouble is,.. clearing it is as much pain as keeping it&lt;br /&gt;and ignoring it is as much pain as seeing it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then why keep it for so long? I hope I wasn't hoping that you'll come back&lt;br /&gt;But you know how crazy I am.... I am crazy enough to do just that&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hence this is a closure of sorts to shut down the windows to the past&lt;br /&gt; dealing with the memories and the shadows they cast....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So once and for all, I am throwing it all out&lt;br /&gt;out goes the blood and tears go out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For one final time I'll face it, and then off from this shore&lt;br /&gt;Something new hopefully will start with the old being no more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-3084846485787381392?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/3084846485787381392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=3084846485787381392' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3084846485787381392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3084846485787381392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/10/closure.html' title='Closure'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-279725392044038982</id><published>2011-10-06T10:21:00.008+05:30</published><updated>2011-10-06T12:27:38.807+05:30</updated><title type='text'>One more thing...</title><content type='html'>while the news and the internet talk about steve jobs's legacy and achievements, i want to write down about what he &lt;strike&gt;meant&lt;/strike&gt; means to me. it may be superficial to some. but then i don't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it goes back to that decision to pick up computer science because of google apple and infosys. in retrospect it sounds foolish, naive may be. but this is how it is. years later when i saw the video of him launching the iphone, i like most of the consumers was enthralled by him. and while some may dismiss him as a shrewd marketer - that video meant much more. the conviction he had was dripping in every word he said. his arrogance and confidence were backed by a deep deep faith in his work. and stupid as it may sound, i have tried to work it into my worklife. if you are passionate about it, no matter how stupid and arrogant and perfectionist people may think of you, your work would bear results. you do stuff because you believe in it.... his passion, i can go on and on about it... but.. he is one person i feel has lived these words until the very end:  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Never Cared For What They Say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;next is about design. i am sure he had a huge team of designers to help him. but the sheer minimalism in the way he packaged himself and his products - wows you. nothing short. looking at the package you cant guess the complexity behind it. my love for design was fueled by the works of pixar and apple. i haven't put it to a commercial use yet - or may be i have. the numerous times when i have tried to visualize the written words into infographics in my deliverables at work. the need to say deeper things in simpler manner &amp;lt;- that came from him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;about sense of humour. class. class is the word. when pirates of the sillicon valley actor was on stage in the 1999 keynote, was it funny or what. the intro of the WWDC07. Humour is intelligence in the playground. that guy did it. Wit personified.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then about - and i can not summarise this part in words - about facing hardships. and while there is a lot i could talk about i want to write about the time i remember watching his 1997 keynote. to be able to face everyone, everyone who believes in you and tell them about the compromise with microsoft -  the class, the cool and the conviction he demonstrated. phenomenal. i sometimes think if i was in his shoes, would i have been able to do it, face failures the way he did it. - whoa, i dont know. that guy, he knew whats important, he knew he had lost, he knew how to accept it, AND he knew how to move on. he just did it and never ever looked back. he earned respect not for how he won, but how he lost and came back again and again and again... and again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he came back on stage in march 2011 to launch the ipad2. shrivelled up because of ill health but that passion dripping in everything he said. 'i couldn't stay back today.' - that drive comes not from money but from what you believe in. and that search to for the next best thing. of not being complacent in what you have achieved but to move on, find the next everest to conquer, the next moon to step on. just yesterday my boss and i were discussing of what was missing in the iphone4s launch - steve was and now he would always be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it may be foolish, even ridiculous to be feeling sad and sentimental about this.... but i can't count the number of times i have looked at his life to make sense of mine. passion, perfection, creativity, originality - that's what he  &lt;strike&gt;meant&lt;/strike&gt; means to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So long, then. &amp;lt; poof! &amp;gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;*The Minister of Magic has left the building*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-279725392044038982?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/279725392044038982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=279725392044038982' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/279725392044038982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/279725392044038982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/10/one-more-thing.html' title='One more thing...'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-1431954107389991340</id><published>2011-10-04T23:54:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-10-30T00:34:41.250+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Just a day when I...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;... felt my blog is my only friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am too demanding for the others. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah well... to you and me then bloggie. Thanks for listening - it was all I ever wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-1431954107389991340?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/1431954107389991340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=1431954107389991340' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1431954107389991340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1431954107389991340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/10/just-day-when-i-felt.html' title='Just a day when I...'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-2587020258953143463</id><published>2011-09-25T21:11:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-09-25T21:11:12.060+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Spark</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;You would meet/speak with a lot of people because of gossip or to pass time. But those that you meet in knowledge - to share a passion, a creation or learn something new - those few would make you realise the value of the spark that exchanges between two minds. Over time you would realize that the latter are rare. Very rare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And oh the pleasure, the pleasure of meeting someone who shares a common interest. Sometimes it also means, you are not the only one who is weird (o_0), who doesn't fit in anywhere. And two words... make the start of a friendship so, so easy: "You, too?" :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;cheers to you&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt; if I know you because you like any of the following things:&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;Books, music with good lyrics, witty jokes, poetry, comic strips, art, calligraphy, photography, traveling, driving, executing crazy ideas.&lt;br /&gt;Intelligent, weird conversations about anything under the sun.&lt;br /&gt;The capability of seeing things the way no one else sees - having that... that sight, that vision. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-2587020258953143463?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/2587020258953143463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=2587020258953143463' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/2587020258953143463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/2587020258953143463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/09/spark.html' title='Spark'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-3408163734391110964</id><published>2011-09-21T23:48:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-05T00:15:05.379+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FBI (Facebook Imports)'/><title type='text'>I am feeling lucky!</title><content type='html'>A hug, a useful advice and a kick in the butt - Consider yourself lucky  if you get these at the right place and at the right time!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-3408163734391110964?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/3408163734391110964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=3408163734391110964' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3408163734391110964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3408163734391110964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-am-feeling-lucky.html' title='I am feeling lucky!'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-3771184955419371591</id><published>2011-09-07T01:47:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-09-07T13:07:53.650+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Conversations'/><title type='text'>Perfection</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Me: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; oye do you believe in the quarter life crisis thing?&lt;br /&gt;Her: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; yup, to some extent yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;aren’t there so many changes in life&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;that’s the prime time of life&lt;/div&gt;Me: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; but the fact that your ideologies go for a toss and sometimes u fall short of reason&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;for things u believed in ardently&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;you tend to think people have changed - but keep questioning - is it u or is it them..&lt;/div&gt;Her: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; sometimes... inevitable changes.. and no explanations and no reasons&lt;br /&gt;Me: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; you think I have changed? as a person u knew in college?&lt;br /&gt;Her: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; yes lot more grown up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Yup definitely yes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;More mature&lt;/div&gt;Me: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; = old?&lt;br /&gt;Her: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; more stable with thoughts...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;No not old.... always young at heart&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;"&gt;Me: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; hmm. Honestly - I would trade maturity and stability for college life any day...but would it be as fruitful as these days are?...I don’t think so.&lt;/div&gt;Her: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; neither me... that's d trade off between college life and life after that&lt;br /&gt;Me: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; knowing that I can now make my own contribution to everything is different high&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Yes... now I don’t just have opinions, I have experience to go with it&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;"&gt;Her:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Actually every phase has its own importance in life, but we never believe it and when we look back.... there so many sweet memories, and we wish back to go to that phase...&lt;/div&gt;Me: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; we like to live in the past or the future... present just doesn't seem good enough&lt;br /&gt;Her: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; exactly, totally agree. Isn't it the human instinct - always wishing for something else?&lt;br /&gt;Me: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; But &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;perfection isn’t that demanding. It's just acceptance&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; acceptance of?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in;"&gt;Me: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Acceptance of imperfections. Living with them, making the best of them - that's perfection. It is said if you add a drop of Ganga's water to a glass of tap water the whole glass becomes pure. Same is the case of perfection... You don't demand the water to be pure u make it pure by your presence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Her: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; words of wisdom!&lt;br /&gt;Me: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; wow. By the way, wow = words of wisdom &lt;br /&gt;Her: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; wow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;The idea is definitely good - it is exactly what I needed&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Somehow u know everything, u just need a little help in reminding it to yourself?&lt;/div&gt;Her: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; hmmmm. ramayan se yaad aya- " hanuman ji too need to reminded of his powers&lt;br /&gt;Me: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; kab? when he wanted to cross ??&lt;br /&gt;Her: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I don’t remember exactly.. perhaps yes&lt;br /&gt;Me: &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; hmm. reminders.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-3771184955419371591?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/3771184955419371591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=3771184955419371591' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3771184955419371591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3771184955419371591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/09/perfection.html' title='Perfection'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-5668683691901555986</id><published>2011-09-01T00:33:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-09-01T00:56:46.797+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hindi'/><title type='text'>कई दिन बाद</title><content type='html'>आज कलम उठाई,&lt;br /&gt;लिखने के लिए टटोली दिल की गहराई&lt;br /&gt;सोचा ख्यालों के समंदर से कुछ बूँदें उठाऊँ&lt;br /&gt;पर हर एक ने नज़रें चुराई...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ग़म तो कई है, पर ज़ख्म कुरेदने से क्या फायेदा&lt;br /&gt;वो समां वो ज़िन्दगी कुछ और ही थी&lt;br /&gt;वक़्त-बेवक्त&lt;br /&gt;उस वक़्त को याद करने से क्या फायेदा?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;समझने समझाने की बातों का मैं क्या करू?&lt;br /&gt;यह बातें झूठी बातें है ... या नहीं ?&lt;br /&gt;सही ग़लत में फर्क कैसे करू?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;इस गज़ब दुनिया के किस्से क्या कहूं?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;किस पर शक,&lt;br /&gt;किस पर विशवास और किस से शिकवा करू?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;रह गए तुम्हारे कुछ ख्याल&lt;br /&gt;उनका&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span&gt;सहारा&lt;/span&gt; मैं कैसे &lt;span&gt;लूं&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;कुछ शब्दों में&lt;br /&gt;कई दिनों की मुस्कुराहट को कैसे गढू?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;एक गुगुदी सी हंसी कोने में बैठी है&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;जिसे अलग रहने की आदत हो गयी है&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;कभी फुर्सत से मिलो तो उससे मिलवायेंगे&lt;br /&gt;और &lt;span&gt;तब &lt;/span&gt;तक अकेले ही चलते जायेंगे...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-5668683691901555986?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/5668683691901555986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=5668683691901555986' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5668683691901555986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5668683691901555986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/09/blog-post.html' title='कई दिन बाद'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-7689771447600954167</id><published>2011-08-24T10:58:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2011-08-25T00:57:12.986+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Another lame post about self improvement</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My experiments with people management&lt;/span&gt; -&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; please do not read of you are not me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I have already mentioned (about a 100 times in the most boring manner) I think I suck at people management. (There I said it). To some people it comes naturally but to me its IS hard really hard to trust people with responsibility. Baljeet ma'am had once said that '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;to see the good in others&lt;/span&gt;' is a great art. Well if its an art... I need to polish my skills at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hence,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to change few things (or was forced to given the circumstances and future prospects) because I think if I am to do anything beyond what I am doing now I need to grow up and let go (sound familiar eh.) So Dibs (who has recently started working) and I discussed few things and looked up the internet for some tips. I have since been trying to experiment with some of these tips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Experiment 1: &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How to deal with another perfectionist? ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over a call with a Japanese client (yes, Moshi Moshi wala), things were not so good and our supersmart salesperson is asking why certain things are not as the client expected. He is pissed as he has been trying to identify the problem and is losing patience.&lt;br /&gt;I started out by agreeing with him and gradually told him the correct picture. Honestly, I was really frustrated at what he expected us to do and holding the frustration back over the call was an achievement in itself.&lt;br /&gt;The salesguy translated and let the client know. Things went upwards from. Though this is not the good part.&lt;br /&gt;The good part was that after the call I wrote an email to the sales guy saying that I appreciate his help with the translation over the call and his patience had increased the effectiveness of our communication manifold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sparks, lightening and thunder&lt;/span&gt;! The guy actually melted and wrote a whole paragraph about what he liked about our work!!! Haha! and this meant a lot! Coming from one of the toughest CEs to work with!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This stuff (tips) actually works!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Experiment 2: &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How to motivate people to work harder/be more productive?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there is this talented young person in my team who had been .. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what is the right word?&lt;/span&gt;... distracted from work a lot off late. The work/quality was suffering. And while I did want to tell him this, I didn't want to demotivate him. So, I took him aside and said that he is responsible for 1/3rd of the research piece and informed him of the timeline. I also said that he is responsible for training the new guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he IMs me later and says he is happy we had the discussion and training new people is our collective responsibility. and in the end he finished in time even though with some help. It worked again!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More to come! or as you are thinking Bore to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(To the non-working types and the rest of the world who isn't me, this would sound.. well.. boring or the work of an workoholic. But to be honest this is something I did wanted to change. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ghar pe shanti iske saath free free free&lt;/span&gt; ;) )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-7689771447600954167?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/7689771447600954167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=7689771447600954167' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7689771447600954167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7689771447600954167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/08/another-lame-post-about-self.html' title='Another lame post about self improvement'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-1611330176794479203</id><published>2011-08-15T23:33:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2011-08-16T00:31:03.975+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fiction'/><title type='text'>200 km/hr</title><content type='html'>"Ah, here we are again." He said as the car moved down the Mayapuri flyover. "The Delhi policewallahs have nothing better to do. Must be checking these damn trucks again." Shruti looked at the trucks he pointed to on their left. The leftmost of the three lanes was choked with trucks. Cars were crawling around them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't understand, why do they have to do this on a Sunday. At this rate we won't even reach Punjabi Bagh by 9.30." The car hadn't moved in the past five minutes. Shruti looked at him, and then turned up the radio. "Rajesh, let's just wait in peace. It will move eventually..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hmm," Rajesh was fidgeting with the channels. "By the way I was really happy to see that watch. I was pleasantly surprised, you know. I didn't think he'll be this mature  and remember to get something for us. I expected him to spend it all on booz and party, to be honest", he said, talking about the watch his son Vishal had gifted him earlier that day. Vishal had received his first salary that week. "I am proud of him." Rajesh smiled at Shruti. The car gently moved forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am just happy to see him grow up. He is becoming so much more responsible." Shruti said, adjusting her &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pallu&lt;/span&gt; on her lap. The sari was Vishal's gift too. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So much like you&lt;/span&gt;, Shruti murmered under her breath and looked at Rajesh again. Rajesh had always been particular about studies and basic discipline with the children. Probably one of the reasons why both their kids had excelled in their studies and otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The car inched forward. The trucks didn't seem to move at all. "By the way, what do you think we should buy Vishal this time?", Shruti asked.&lt;br /&gt;"Well, you are the one who always spoil him with expensive gifts. I am sure you have something planned already like last year." Rajesh winked at Shruti. She was the softer one of the two. He loved the balance they created together and secretly thanked god for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The car graduated further, they could see a police line being stretched on the right side oh the road. "There must have been an accident" Shruti said.&lt;br /&gt;"God, Look at this traffic! Why can't people drive more carefully?! I don't want to miss this party. Vishal said he had another surprise waiting for us," Rajesh said irritably. He maneuvered the car towards the left and picked up some pace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The car crossed the police jeep. Shruti peeked over Rajesh to catch a glimpse of what had happened. Four policeman were busy at the scene, scurrying around with walkie-talkies in tow. As the car moved ahead, she caught sight of a bike leaning against the railing. A white piece of cloth was fluttering on the ground. A hand lay limp under it. A pool of blood had formed on its side. Shruti gasped, and pointed it to Rajesh.&lt;br /&gt;"Crashed into the railing, my god! These irresponsible kids I tell you. They never learn. They drink and drive, and think they own the roads. Never think about the families that wait for them somewhere." Rajesh said as he gently stepped on the accelerator and drove away. " Ah, an open road after that jam, This is a blessing."&lt;br /&gt;--------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE IS NOT COMING?" Shruti shouted and grabbed the front of Rajesh's shirt. "Drunk..Alto.. near Mayapu-" Rajesh spluttered the words and stared at Shruti as he put the phone down. "It was - It was HIM!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Opinions change at the speed of 200km/hr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;P.S.(s): &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Alternative ending: Vishal killed someone... Read again?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Opinions change at the speed of 200km/hr :)&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/3399631395932953597-1611330176794479203?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/1611330176794479203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=1611330176794479203' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1611330176794479203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1611330176794479203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/08/20-kmhr.html' title='200 km/hr'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-8890695499665832298</id><published>2011-08-11T16:07:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2011-08-11T23:21:18.287+05:30</updated><title type='text'>For what it was worth...</title><content type='html'>So a very different kind of farewell today. In her goodbye email a juniour said this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;NA, you’re one PM I worked the most with. As I always say, I owe a lot of PPT skills to you. :) Thank you for all that you taught me, much appreciated!!! You’re a talented and a hard working girl, I am sure you’ll go a long way! Wish you all best in your career and otherwise as well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;I was writing a reply to her email when she left and since I have no means to say it anywhere, my dear old friend, my blog, comes in handy: &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Hey,&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for the kind words. You were the first person in my 'team' when I became a PM. So there was a lot to learn about what works with different kinds of people and what doesn't. &lt;em&gt;Being good yourself is easy... Inspiring goodness in others is tough&lt;/em&gt;. This is what I wrote on FB during that time.&lt;br /&gt;I definitely learned a lot (sometimes the hard way) about what professional relationships are about and what people look for in a mentor. A few months down the line you said: &lt;em&gt;I want to say thanks to you N for helping me get better at this.&lt;/em&gt; And I wrote on FB: &lt;em&gt;Job satisfaction: 1 mahine ki thakan aur frustration mita di, ek sentence ne.&lt;/em&gt; So all in all - have learnt a lot and passed on what i received (or atleast tried my best, &lt;em&gt;ofcourse with mistakes&lt;/em&gt;). All the best.... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;May the best of your past be the worst of your future. Good Luck and be well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few things that I didn't want to say but I learnt were:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About the sheer diversity of people there ARE in the world. When we come from different worlds it IS really difficult... I mean , really difficult to understand each other. And for someone like me, who likes to live in her own one all the time..Boy was it a challenge!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About the different levels of friendship and friendliness: So far, it was 0 or 1. Friends or not friends. But in the workplace there is a NEED to have different levels of friendliness if not friends. So far I used to believe that I can be myself and if people do not understand it is there problem. But in an environment when you want people to work for you – you cannot kick over the beehive if you want the honey. Be friendly not friends.&lt;br /&gt;Power distance is important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally, even when you give your best, sometimes it is not enough - things just don't work out. &lt;strong&gt;It is okay&lt;/strong&gt;. Some will understand. Some won’t. Just because some didn’t, don’t stop doing what you believe in because some will (lol). Still love training new people, still love learning and sharing. In the end it is about what you make of yourself. Becoming a good mentor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;...it was worth all the while. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-8890695499665832298?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/8890695499665832298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=8890695499665832298' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8890695499665832298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8890695499665832298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/08/for-what-it-was-worth.html' title='For what it was worth...'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-6609067178476867611</id><published>2011-08-10T15:48:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-05T00:15:05.380+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FBI (Facebook Imports)'/><title type='text'>One of those days...</title><content type='html'>when I feel like one of god's favourite children :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baithe baithe problems getting solved :) solution khud chal ke mere pas aa rahe hai, haha! :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-6609067178476867611?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/6609067178476867611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=6609067178476867611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/6609067178476867611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/6609067178476867611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/08/one-of-those-days.html' title='One of those days...'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-133931278749680864</id><published>2011-08-09T23:56:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-08-10T12:16:47.846+05:30</updated><title type='text'>2010</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; COLOR: rgb(192,192,192)"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(153,153,153)"&gt;The year is still new :) In the beginning of this year, I had intended to right a end-of-2010 post. Somehow, procastination got the better of me always. Publishing it finally.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;A year of definite growing up, of surrenders, of responsibilities, of knowing I cannot do everything but I can do something, of trusting people, of getting to know people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a year that taught me that it is the toughest times teach you the most. Well, if you knew how to handle them, they won't be tough you see. So cliched like hell but true like it too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a year of meeting online friends offline and (unfortunately) meeting offline friends only online. Life's strange.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a year of hiding my head like an ostrich - in work.... a year of promotion.... oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a year of confidence. I made one of the biggest (and possibly the stupidest) mistakes at work. It turns out I am getting better at handling disasters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a year that said an argument doesn't need to ensue if you don't want it to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a year when i learned that happiness comes from caring more about people rather than less. We like to think we'll be well alone. but on a lonely tuesday evening when even tears betray you, it's those people who would call you and tell you what a mess of a jerk you have been lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a year that made me feel stagnant - the scenery didn't change for a long while and I didn't feel like I moved at all. but I now know I have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a year of trying really hard to lose weight and then losing some and the doc said you have gained some. lol. The fight just got harder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a year of realizing again and again and again that voids are voids - they will remain there. a year of realizing that pain can bring you apart, but hope can pull you through. Because even though you may feel like you are dying inside, your heart is still beating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a year of being stupid from the word go and really enjoy it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a year that ended with me realizing that i had become the whiny little kid whose mom would drag her to the school called life. the kid who doesn't do the homework and says the teacher gave too much. Or who fails at a test saying it was out of course when in fact she didn't study for the exam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a year of interesting firsts. A first interview, a first night out, a first project, a first prize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all a mixed year. Just like how all the others are - mixed. Still confused, still fat, still a graduate. 2011 would a universe of possibilities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And before I finish this, here is an yearly round-up using facebook and twitter status messages:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;January 2010&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#in2010 i am going to spend more time with myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="statusMsg"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="statusMsg"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;perseverencem ev jayate!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;written while working on the NASSCOM report.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class="statusMsg"&gt;is smiling the mischievous smile... lolz :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class="statusDate"&gt;&lt;span style="TEXT-DECORATION: underline"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class="statusMsg"&gt;you live only once :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sirprised GS :)&lt;span class="messageBody"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;i wish i cud wake up one morning, feel lyk going to goa, and leave....fly... within less than 2 hours! now that would be freedom :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's on a to-do list&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="statusMsg"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;chilly delhi winter winds, 2 cups of piping hot tea, awesome street food, a best friend, undr a streetlight by the roadside @ 9 PM............ Reasons why life's good! :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Feburary 2010&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="statusMsg"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Just when you feel you are spiraling downwards, one of the eight would appear from nowhere :) thnks K, M, D, A, S, G, R and S! ... with you around.. ~I am always feeling lucky!~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's what friends are for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;N&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;ot every rose has a thorn...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;ts luck or may be life that lets us&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;omehow discover a fragrance too pure to fade away... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;H&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;owever dire the straits might get, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;ts time for us to celebrate that love, that life, that luck ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Emotional fool.. hmm.. may be... but atleast am honest :P&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;For what it was worth, it was worth all the while. :-(-:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;May your goodbyes be complete.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rashi left. and then Kanika did and then Keshav did. Attachments..... archived. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Set these right: alarm clock, hair, expectations :) aur chill maro :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;becoming a PM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="statusMsg"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;March 2010&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;had the most weirdest day ever.. a doorstep library, a note on barista wall, a call from an old mentor, a crashed car, interviewing a senior for recruitment, figuring out where you have been and where to go, an empty cab, a lost symbol, an extra belated birthday gift, a dinner with friends, a walk in the cool breeze... what more can you possibly do in a day?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;*That* kind of day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="statusMsg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ek 1000 watt ki smile maaro... duniya apne aap achhi dikhegi :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;This Works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;zindagi rango ki jhadhi hai, keemti ek ek ghadhi hai, khud ko sambhal ghalib, kisko teri padhi hai?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;[after 15 mins of chat] her: achha no discussions ryt nw...kal exam hai mera, thoda padh leti hoon Me: sure, ttyl her: ye discussn apne kabhi khatam nai honge, kal raat i slept fr one hr padhne k beech mein.. me: tu rehne de her: n sote sote paat nai hansraj ka strtin tym yaad aa gya tha me: abe padh le!! her: bas ek baat sunn le me: achha bata :D :D :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Gol and Mal. (Me and malvika)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;April 2010&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;You know what?? It's 3rd April again ;) ;) ;)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those moments that make you smile whenever you think about them - no matter where you are or what you are doing - that's when you lived. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Every cigarette, every puff took a bit of my life away. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smoke on! :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;May the new replace the old, may the joy overcome the pain I hold, may music fill the void punched in my heart, and return the warmth that had once gone cold...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;May 2010&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Thanks to office friends, schools friends, college friends, friends of friends, moms of friends, old friends, really old friends, never-met friends, far-away friends... hehe..awesome day! *big grin*&lt;br /&gt;------&lt;br /&gt;Mayank Girotra: Yaar sonal ke card pe toh kar diya, yeh Nishi ke card pe bhi draw kar de..dahlia tu karde.. Abhishek Chatterjee: Lao main karta hu...Arey meri drawing bahut achhi hai.. Mujhe digestive system banana ata hai (!!!!!) (almost) died of laughter today... awesome day!&lt;br /&gt;You know you have lived, when you look at a photo and say.." Kya din tha yaar!!" &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 day birthday celebrations!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;June 2010&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Survivor or a winner. What's it gonna be?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it doesn't kill u, it'll only make u stronger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am afraid of it, but I am loving it :) :) :) Have waited so much for this, and now its really happening. Really Happyning :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;More PMing ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;office ended early, weekend started early... buying mangoes, walking down an old street holding mom's pallu like I use to do when I was a kid... very relieving :) :) Koi tension nahin hai :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;July 2010&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Whats a sureshot cure for a headche?&lt;br /&gt;a. Disprin? No.&lt;br /&gt;b. Head Massage? No.&lt;br /&gt;c. Sleep? No.&lt;br /&gt;d. Rain that soaks you to your bones? Hell yeah!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some ppl wil get on your nerves. So build strong ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its strange hw u think u'l achieve something and it'l make u happy and when u do get it u r stil waiting for d happiness part to arrive...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Missed dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;is now a Senior Business Analyst at Evalueserve. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;August 2010&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Signs you are a workoholic: When you get free time in office, you have no idea what to do. 0_o . Really Bored&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Signs you had a good time: all the people you love appear in your recent calls list =]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Har ek ki mati main thode se kankar. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angad added: bhayankar. Bhayankar. bhayankar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Being good yourself is easy.. Inspiring goodness in others is tough.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, that phase when you learn this. You feel, I can do this in 10 hours why waste 15 in training someone else to do it. But that is not what you are paid for, now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What all can you do in a weekend? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;sleep late? ☑ yoga?☑ watch movie(s)?☑ chat with friend(s)?☑ long drive? ☑ eat streetfood? ☑ shopping? ☑ sketching? ☑ cooking?☑ picnic with friends? ☑ roam around lazily in pleasant weather? ☑ Finally click pictures and get into your dream home? ☑ dance in the rain after midnight? ☑ follow your curiosity and go to places u never planned? ☑ RECHARGE Yourself?? ☑☑☑!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Irreversible reactions: A truly irreversible chemical reaction is usually achieved when one of the products exits the reacting system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fear is fear. Your reaction to it can become the story of your lifetime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;September 2010&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Friend 1: Yaar, he is like Ross and he has a Rachel. I don't want to be Emily, if you know what I mean. Friend 2: Oh C'mon! He is Chandler, he has Jenice. Be the Monica!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: LMAO!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;N: Hi Mike, how are you? How's work?&lt;br /&gt;M: I am good N. I am very good. How are you? Work has been great. I am working 18 hours a day these days.&lt;br /&gt;N: So this one is really tough eh?&lt;br /&gt;M: Yeah, you learn a lot more on a bad day. You can say I am learning a lot these days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;I am learning a lot these days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just heard that 3 days of effort has gone down the drain. And you know what? Now I am getting so used to it, I am not even disturbed by it. In fact, I already have the solution for it in place too. Jab itni aag bhujai hai, ek aur sahi. Kyunki (fire)fighter kabhi nahin harta. lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Elasticity for disaster expands with each one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Murphy's law is a test of resilience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Those &lt;insert&gt;days!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Some events in your life change you forever. For better or for worse that is your choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Job satisfaction: I want to say thanks to you nishi for helping me get better at this. :) :) :) 1 mahine ki thakan aur frustration mita di, ek sentence ne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked why? My heart said because you want to. Madness - that's what it is. That's what it was. That's what it'll always be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;The answer to why go the extra mile?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;October 2010&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Keshavi Sharma: Sab teri wajah se hua hai! Me: Ja phir koi aur dhoondh le. Mere paas (MA)lvika (Malvika Gupta) hai. Mal are you there? (no reply) Lagta hai Mal chori ho gya. &lt;lla&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First you make a choice and then the choice makes you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haven't waited for a Monday with such ardor before. Bhagwanji, yeh wala monday thodha jaldi bhej do, please :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;KV comes to delhi ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Life is not for the fainthearted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feeling like a PM for the first time in my life! Haven't done anything since mrning and going off to lunch already :p :p :p (outlook also crashed but thats besides d point)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's good to have someone to talk to. But sometimes, you just need to hear yourself out, lose the argument and continue doing what you are supposed to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Great! Brilliant that lady!" (It was never supposed to be easy. It was always supposed to be worth it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;insert&gt;said this :) Remember your compliments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;November 2010&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;This Diwali, lets remember to go back to our roots and recall our forgotten traditions. Lets remember to trust each other, have faith in truth and goodness of a human being. Lets value those around us, and embark in sweet remembrance of those who are not. Lets shine our inner light and illuminate the world. Happy Diwali!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"In the end i am at war only with myself, and it seems like i am winning..." -adidas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;laugh when you want to cry,&lt;br /&gt;don't slouch when you can hold your head high,&lt;br /&gt;love life sooo much that it is forced to return it&lt;br /&gt;and when you look back you can say 'I did it!' :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We think, a soulmate, success, money, car and houses will bring us happiness, when really...... It's the other way around. Have a happy morning :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Night: uncertain, ignorant, solitary, sinful, dark,eerie, gloomy, feared, unwanted,wanted, relieving, restful, comforting, dreamy, beautiful&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wants to let the world know that today she saw it... her name on a NASSCOM report - right there in the acknowledgments. (yay!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone in this world is self centered, it is the radius that differs... via Siddhi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you cannot put your heart in it, take yourself out of it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;December 2010&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;In life, unlike chess, the 'game' continues after checkmate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Isaac Asimov&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I dont know if you have noticed anything missing.. But am long gone baby and i was real quiet when i closed the door...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you are running too fast, it takes time to slow down/stop. #LongDayAtWork #GyaniMeha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Awesome Cab Discussions!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/lla&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-133931278749680864?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/133931278749680864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=133931278749680864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/133931278749680864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/133931278749680864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/01/2010.html' title='2010'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-3885810532728632344</id><published>2011-06-29T01:47:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-05T00:15:05.381+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FBI (Facebook Imports)'/><title type='text'>Error! Memory full.</title><content type='html'>Your memory card is not accessible because it is full. Please delete some files.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-3885810532728632344?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/3885810532728632344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=3885810532728632344' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3885810532728632344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3885810532728632344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/06/error-memory-full.html' title='Error! Memory full.'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-8850048140328875744</id><published>2011-06-12T16:58:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-12T18:27:14.715+05:30</updated><title type='text'>They have a way</title><content type='html'>Somewhere, sometime when you are not looking, it will blindside you... creep up behind you and in low raspy voice say 'Boo!' right into your ear. You wonder what just happened and why are your eyes so full and the heart so empty?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels like watching a blot of black paint dissolve in a transparent glass of clear water. Little clouds of black engulfing the clarity. Slowly all you see is black. The clear water lost forever, as if it never existed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is like someone has pushed you into the cold dark corner of your heart that you had locked up ad swallowed the key, swearing you will never open again. And there you are sitting in it, watching 'alone' become 'lonely'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You think you are running away from it. But you are only running deeper into them. Some memories haunt you. They have a way. They &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;find&lt;/span&gt; a way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-8850048140328875744?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/8850048140328875744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=8850048140328875744' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8850048140328875744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8850048140328875744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/06/they-have-way.html' title='They have a way'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-3969288852199659656</id><published>2011-06-08T12:58:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-08T18:29:12.199+05:30</updated><title type='text'>If my life is for rent...</title><content type='html'>I've always thought&lt;br /&gt;that I would love to live by the sea&lt;br /&gt;To travel the world alone&lt;br /&gt;and live my life more simply&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea what's happened to that dream&lt;br /&gt;Cos there's really nothing left here to stop me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if my life is for rent and I don't learn to buy&lt;br /&gt;Well I deserve nothing more than I get&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cos nothing I have is truly mine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While my heart is a shield and I won't let it down&lt;br /&gt;While I am so afraid to fail so I won't even try&lt;br /&gt;Well how can I say I'm alive&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If my life is for rent...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Lyrics of a Dido Song... Background music of my life these days.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-3969288852199659656?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/3969288852199659656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=3969288852199659656' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3969288852199659656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3969288852199659656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/06/if-my-life-is-for-rent.html' title='If my life is for rent...'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-7991612169605948547</id><published>2011-05-27T00:24:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-05-27T00:43:58.284+05:30</updated><title type='text'>What I learnt in school today</title><content type='html'>I was reminded once again that if we start focusing on why things &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;can &lt;/span&gt;be done, they &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;do&lt;/span&gt; get done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world tells us 1000 reasons why something can't be done. All you need to do is focus on that 1 reason why it can be done. Or may be there is no reason to believe it, yet you do it. First mover advantage! She said, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;abhi yeh mat socho yeh kaise hoga. Pehle yeh socho ki karna kya hai. Woh ho gaya, toh yeh bhi ho hi jayega&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think experience sometimes is a hindrance - especially when it only tells you the limitations. Yes, being real is important. But the enthusiasm, the lets-try-this attitude of a fresher - nothing beats it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't burn your enthusiasm so soon, don't be cynical about things and especially don't give up on yourself and others. Yes, it broke your heart, yes you burnt your fingers... &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;haan thodha dard hua, par chalta hai!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because only ashes were left when that fire was gone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-7991612169605948547?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/7991612169605948547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=7991612169605948547' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7991612169605948547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7991612169605948547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/05/what-i-learnt-in-school-today.html' title='What I learnt in school today'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-8058537988448844668</id><published>2011-05-16T00:16:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2011-05-18T00:45:40.172+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hindi'/><title type='text'>57</title><content type='html'>Na jaane kis des kis gali&lt;br /&gt;Ho yahan, ya tum nahin?&lt;br /&gt;Hote se lagte ho..&lt;br /&gt;par ho nahin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jahan ho, na jane kaise ho?&lt;br /&gt;Par yaad ho...&lt;br /&gt;Hum bhule nahin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sab theek hai&lt;br /&gt;aur hai nahin&lt;br /&gt;Par tum saath ho&lt;br /&gt;....ya shayad nahin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ek aah hai&lt;br /&gt;har raah main&lt;br /&gt;aur ek gum hai&lt;br /&gt;har chaah main...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;girte hai, phisalte hai&lt;br /&gt;sambhalte hai, Sambhaalte hai&lt;br /&gt;dukhta hai kabhi kabhi&lt;br /&gt;rundhta hai gala&lt;br /&gt;rukte hai...par phir badhte hai&lt;br /&gt;thakte hai, par phir ladhte hai&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;par khush rehte hai&lt;br /&gt;aur chalte jaate hai&lt;br /&gt;aur jaise tumne bataya tha&lt;br /&gt;waqt ke saath dhalte jaate hai&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;P.S.: Happy Birthday Dad!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-8058537988448844668?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/8058537988448844668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=8058537988448844668' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8058537988448844668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8058537988448844668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/05/57.html' title='57'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-8315842349787567000</id><published>2011-05-07T16:58:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-05-07T16:58:17.172+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><title type='text'>Let's not look back</title><content type='html'>No. It wasn't a thud.&lt;br /&gt;It didn't drop.&lt;br /&gt;It didn't shatter.&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't glass.&lt;br /&gt;But now, does it matter?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was rock. Rock solid.&lt;br /&gt;It withered away.&lt;br /&gt;The rain eroded&lt;br /&gt;and the wind rubbed it.&lt;br /&gt;Took a lot of time... you noted?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good while they were&lt;br /&gt;In cardboxes they lie&lt;br /&gt;Memories all packed&lt;br /&gt;Its tough.&lt;br /&gt;But let's not look back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-8315842349787567000?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/8315842349787567000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=8315842349787567000' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8315842349787567000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8315842349787567000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/05/lets-not-look-back.html' title='Let&apos;s not look back'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-7941965444969431733</id><published>2011-04-24T23:39:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2011-04-25T01:57:53.638+05:30</updated><title type='text'>How to make a good weekend?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;If it isn't too much of an effort, please read this in British accent ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A weekend, is a grand 2-course and sometimes 3-course stress-buster that helps you swallow the 5-day bitter medicine called the weekdays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Total time: 2-3 days&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Preparation time: Think on your feet!&lt;br /&gt;Refrigeration time: Freeze it with pictures as you go!&lt;br /&gt;Cooking time: Go with the flow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Difficulty: Easy.. Verrray Easy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ingredients:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;1 weekend:  preferably a 3-day weekend, however, since these are scarce, you can use a 2-day weekend too. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;1 car: any car with an air conditioner and a music system would do. If you don't have access to one, involve a friend who has one or make us of the metro. If you don't live in Delhi, well too bad.. you gotta make do with public transport.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;1 Forgetful friend(s): Forgetful people are abundant. Forgetful friends, however, are not. Pick one whose company you like. I ordered mine from Mumbai.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;1 Cafe: I prefer using Barista, especially the one in Kamla Nagar. You can use any, but make sure you like the place. Cha Baar is a good escape too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;1 guitar: Live music is just what you need. If you have one that is shaped like a cup of coffee and has the third string missing - nothing like it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A pocketful of cash, if you don't have one, rely on your friend ;) &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A bookstore.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;An ounce of brain and kilos of no-brainer jokes.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A pinch of summer and sunscreen and shades to taste&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Recipe:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take your 3-day weekend, and slice it into three usable pieces for your 3-course stress buster. Make sure these are washed with care to drain all grainy sands of the weekday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Friday Highday!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Stuff your beloved car with your favorite music, and refill the tank till the needle swings to full. Seatbelt up if required (read: you see a traffic mamu).&lt;br /&gt;2. Drive from West to South Delhi and pick up your favorite forgetful friend. Try and head towards North Delhi.&lt;br /&gt;3. Drive responsibly, but chatter incessantly. Drizzle the conversation with updates on crushes, sprinkle with assorted jokes and let it reminisce in old memories.&lt;br /&gt;4. Once you realize you are lost, take a U-turn and decide to stick to the Ring Road. And while you do that stir up a pot of thought: Why do two, otherwise normal, mature women, Always get lost on the way and enjoy it so much.&lt;br /&gt;5. Take the long road to North Delhi. Let the beauty of a wide empty road, the music and the laughter pour on you.&lt;br /&gt;WARNING: You will notice a signboard asking you to turn left for India Gate emerge after every 2-3 k.m. Don't let any such board confuse you. Delhi gol hai. India Gate beech main hi rahega. Keep heading straight on the ring road, call a few friends en route to ensure you are heading in the right direction.&lt;br /&gt;6. In a cozy cafe, mix more conversation with, green apple iced tea, jokes and watch people play a mug shaped guitar. Topics for conversation can be: Jimi Jimi Jimi, aja aja aja (referring to Jimi Hendrix), Learn Punjabi in a month, a guitar shaped pen drive, a purple scarf etc.&lt;br /&gt;7. Head back South again to home made Pasta and a game of badminton with your cousins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You just made yourself a Friday Highday!&lt;br /&gt;Recommendation: Let the conversation brew at Keventor's before shifting to Barista and don't hesitate to buy that cute button from the roadside thelas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Saturday Betterday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Figure out a totally random place to visit on the face of Delhi's map. Then refuse to follow the directions on the map. Once again take a your beloved car and head south. Keep on heading south, till you feel that if you went anymore South you'll reach North soon. Enjoy the drive.&lt;br /&gt;2. Return to West around midday and reheat your your lunch plan with friends. Head West to the new Pacific Mall and have a great lunch with great office friends, though avoid the great movie they are gonna watch.&lt;br /&gt;3. Decide to check out the 'few' stores at this new hut and wander around to your heart's delight. Lifestyle, Mango, Kazo are a few good ones to be in.&lt;br /&gt;4. Get a call from your friend who asks you to meet in North Delhi. Without much negotiation, you decide to meet in the Centre. Head to Fabindia to check out the summer collection. Post which you head towards CP.&lt;br /&gt;5. Run out of battery. Call friend 2 to call friend 1 to meet you near the Nirulas express at Rajiv Chowk - all from a stranger' phone. When you meet there, head to Barakhamba and then to the Statesman house.&lt;br /&gt;6. Enter the world of books and tea - Cha Baar and Oxford bookstore. Don't believe your luck when it says 'Sale' everywhere and register yourself for the Book Lover's club. Order 'Karma' and 'Organic Nilgiri' - love the karma, hate the nilgiri - and leaf through books - on astrology, biographies, spirituality, tantric sex, fiction, non-fiction. Decide to mail the book on  Kamasutra to your friend on her birthday, get her thrown out of her house for it and offer her to stay with you in Delhi. Laugh secretly at your evil plan.&lt;br /&gt;7. Buy the recycle bag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If your betterday still isn't cooked - go get slushed with cold coffee and maggi dinner at home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Sunday Fundae&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Sleep.&lt;br /&gt;2. Read.&lt;br /&gt;3. Sleep.&lt;br /&gt;4. Wake up late. Like really late. Clean up the house at make mom happy.&lt;br /&gt;5. Watch Robert Patinson starer Remember Me. For the nth time.&lt;br /&gt;5. Meet another friend in the evening at Jwala Heri. SHOP! for Kurtas. Hang around for juice. Chat over an ice cream. and the cherry on the Fundae? - Get a sweet discount deal on the Kurtas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love what you read? Now Try it yourself!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-7941965444969431733?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/7941965444969431733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=7941965444969431733' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7941965444969431733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7941965444969431733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/04/how-to-make-good-weekend.html' title='How to make a good weekend?'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-7858898766541739806</id><published>2011-04-24T11:43:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-04-24T12:17:55.368+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A little something II</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This isn't in continuation of the first part, but connected somehow. Read Part I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/02/little-something.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are few people in your life that you trust more than you trust your own self. Your parents teachers, older members of the family, your mentors at work, in life. The people you turn to for advice when all else fails.  They form the very basis of your belief system. You believe in certain things because they believed in it. You can trust their judgment because of what it is - it is Their judgment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the past week I have realized that few of these people that you put on a higher pedestal will eventually step down. You will or at least I have realized, that they are going through an evolution as you are. They may be fighting different wars, but they are still fighting them. And their judgment and decisions can go wrong as well. Sometimes the things they will say or do will NOT be in sync with what is right *. (This is a little more menacing for those (like me) who depend on others for certain decisions.) But this is okay. Because in the end, its is only you (and your god if you believe in one) who is going to be by your side through thick and through thin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Men may come and men may go, but I go on forever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So. I realize that: These few people cannot be right or wrong always. You have to learn to make use of your own judgment. Establish your own beliefs. Be ready to be proved wrong. And when you are, be ready to mend. Modify certain parts of  it, polish the others and rearrange it. And again - be ready to be proved wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; *Come to think of it what &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; right? This reminds me of that scene from the movie Akhiri Rasta - The father writes 6 on the palm of his hand and shows it to his son, who standing on the opposite side sees a 9. The father says that if I ask you what you see, you'll say 9 and I'll say 6. Both of us are correct but you are free to believe that I am wrong and so am I. .... That's the point right. Sometimes, we just need to agree to disagree. Accept that choice will be right or wrong based on the point of view it is seen in. And may be there is no need to classify everything as right or wrong. There are gray areas, and we can let them be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-7858898766541739806?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/7858898766541739806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=7858898766541739806' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7858898766541739806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7858898766541739806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/04/little-something-ii.html' title='A little something II'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-6373640135762521351</id><published>2011-04-10T06:30:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-04-11T17:07:16.421+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Chick and The Bitch'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Self Analysis'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Food for Thought'/><title type='text'>Hi5 anyone?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img140.imageshack.us/img140/6149/candb3.png" alt="Nain Sukh Prapti" width="95%" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I wanted to write a post about how rocking the World Cup night was. But this is more important.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't even know what I want. I have absolutely NO freakin idea of what I want to do with my life. I am always confused, I am always questioning my choices, I am always worried. Hell, I am worried about 'being worried'. I want to be one thing today and another tomorrow. I am afraid or skeptical or hardly EVER looking forward to what is to come. I just want to hold on to the good things that have happened. Because that's something no one can take away from me. BUT even after all this, even after whatever the f has happened, whatever has come so far... I AM ROCKINGGG ITTT!! Hell yeah!!! I have more often, than not, done things I would have never imagined I'll do. I have made friends I didn't knew I'll make. I have made through crazy work I didn't think I'll do. I have done it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And YES I worry. Yes I have loads of gyan to give/take. Yes I feel guilty of not being able to apply this gyan to when it is really required. But I am trying to and it is making me who I am!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I got not one but three compliments these past weeks - dependable, patient and funny - from three different people. And since these didn't come from my best friends I would like to believe them to be true (afterthought lol anyone?). So way past all the crap that I feel about not being able to make the most of it or not being sure of what I want. I am just feeling awesome about ME Today. Ok, more than a fat than what I'd like, but I am working on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are reading this, have a drink on me. Because I am living it! Not my dream. But something beyond it. Something I haven't even dreamt of!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I never got to where I wanted to go. But I always got a great story. (HIMYM)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-6373640135762521351?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/6373640135762521351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=6373640135762521351' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/6373640135762521351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/6373640135762521351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/04/hi5-anyone.html' title='Hi5 anyone?'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-6988691519146449150</id><published>2011-03-30T23:33:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-05T00:15:52.871+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FBI (Facebook Imports)'/><title type='text'>Kya swad hai zindagi main!</title><content type='html'>Feel like dancing like that cadbury girl!!! Lol !!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;What a taste life has ;)&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-6988691519146449150?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/6988691519146449150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=6988691519146449150' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/6988691519146449150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/6988691519146449150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/03/kya-swad-hai-zindagi-main.html' title='Kya swad hai zindagi main!'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-3641870141197465146</id><published>2011-03-21T00:19:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2011-03-21T08:40:41.995+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Chick and The Bitch'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Humour'/><title type='text'>Nain Sukh Prapti</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://img5.imageshack.us/img5/4083/nspfinal.png" alt="Nain Sukh Prapti" width="95%" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;P.S.: For non-Hindi Speakers, the  title translated in English would be: Gaining happiness through the eyes [lol, it sounds equally cheesy in Hindi too]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-3641870141197465146?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/3641870141197465146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=3641870141197465146' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3641870141197465146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3641870141197465146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/03/nain-sukh-prapti.html' title='Nain Sukh Prapti'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-7747223206954039585</id><published>2011-03-20T02:40:00.011+05:30</published><updated>2011-04-11T16:51:25.297+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Chick and The Bitch'/><title type='text'>An Internal Contradiction</title><content type='html'>People, after much deliberation, I give you:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;"The Chick and The Bitch"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;An Eternal Contradiction&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;(A webcomic-of-sorts. Well. Laughter is not expected as much as amusement is... so Stick Around! The idea evolved from me talking to myself, and pushing and pulling certain thoughts out of shape by over-thinking. Let's see how this goes. Following is just the genesis. The story begins a little later this week. Feedback is welcome!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;img src="http://img233.imageshack.us/img233/528/genesis.png" alt="" width="95%" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;P.S.: I do not promise regular updates. Expect it when  the chick's thinking again and the bitch is in the mood to contradict (which is pretty often).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. 2: Erm, as you can see, I didn't want to use the profane word, but.. erm.. the other options didn't appeal as much (or illustrated the theme as such).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-7747223206954039585?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/7747223206954039585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=7747223206954039585' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7747223206954039585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7747223206954039585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/03/internal-contradiction.html' title='An Internal Contradiction'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-2292127654036971315</id><published>2011-03-16T16:57:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-04-11T16:52:00.952+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><title type='text'>If you love me</title><content type='html'>If you love me&lt;br /&gt;please know it’s a tough phase for me&lt;br /&gt;wait for me while I deal with this mess&lt;br /&gt;stand by me when I do so&lt;br /&gt;bare with me when I rant about it&lt;br /&gt;tell me I can do it when I can't think so&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you love me&lt;br /&gt;treat me to chocolates and coffee&lt;br /&gt;come with me on our evening walks&lt;br /&gt;Make me laugh like you always do&lt;br /&gt;And know that the things I tease you for&lt;br /&gt;are the ones that draw me to you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you love me&lt;br /&gt;take me on a long drive with our favorite music&lt;br /&gt;sing along and don't react when you notice me looking at you ;)&lt;br /&gt;(okay smile may be, I’d love it)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you love me&lt;br /&gt;keep tabs on me... be interested in the details&lt;br /&gt;call me back later if we have to cut short&lt;br /&gt;sometimes... remember what I say&lt;br /&gt;I'd love it if you do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you love me&lt;br /&gt;Ask me to walk when you know I have been running long&lt;br /&gt;Ask me to stay when you know I want to flee&lt;br /&gt;Don't ask me to stop thinking&lt;br /&gt;Because.. you know.. that wouldn't be me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you love me&lt;br /&gt;gently tuck my hair behind my ear&lt;br /&gt;and give me the most precious thing you have - your smile –&lt;br /&gt;which is so much more audible than your laughter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you love me&lt;br /&gt;know that my sitting in silence next to you&lt;br /&gt;is something I had been dreaming off&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry I am not sad or bored, I just want to be there with you&lt;br /&gt;Words will come when they are required&lt;br /&gt;meanwhile let me just sit and stare at you&lt;br /&gt;absorb every detail...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you love me&lt;br /&gt;tell me about your childhood&lt;br /&gt;tell me about why you have that scar on your hand&lt;br /&gt;tell me about your habits - you inspire with some and make me laugh at the others&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tell me silly stories and tell me serious ones&lt;br /&gt;and the ones where you lost and the ones where you won&lt;br /&gt;tell me who you are and where you are from&lt;br /&gt;tell me what you like and what you don't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you love me&lt;br /&gt;trust me&lt;br /&gt;with your thoughts and disappointments and dreams...&lt;br /&gt;know that you can depend on me and&lt;br /&gt;I'll be by your side before you even ask me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you love me&lt;br /&gt;make me a part of you, your life, your problems and solutions&lt;br /&gt;because you would be of mine...&lt;br /&gt;because in me you will find:&lt;br /&gt;the one you have been waiting for so long&lt;br /&gt;and all the ones you didn't expect to come along ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;P.S.: Based on an idea from Ashu's post '&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://ashuspeak.blogspot.com/2010/09/love-me-but-with-care.html"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Love me, but with care&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;'.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-2292127654036971315?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/2292127654036971315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=2292127654036971315' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/2292127654036971315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/2292127654036971315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/03/if-you-love-me.html' title='If you love me'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-3798240982509104347</id><published>2011-03-15T23:50:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-04-11T17:07:16.422+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Self Analysis'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Food for Thought'/><title type='text'>When does alone equal lonely?</title><content type='html'>When you are alone and you are blaming yourself for a situation... and you cannot even enjoy your own company.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-3798240982509104347?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/3798240982509104347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=3798240982509104347' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3798240982509104347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3798240982509104347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/03/when-does-alone-equal-lonely.html' title='When does alone equal lonely?'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-7232936125266018544</id><published>2011-03-14T23:59:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-04-11T17:07:16.424+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Self Analysis'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Food for Thought'/><title type='text'>Vice President of Trouble Shooting</title><content type='html'>So.&lt;br /&gt;- My boss of 2.5 years, who has been my mentor, is leaving the team.&lt;br /&gt;- My team is disintegrating into 2 parts. With the part to which I belong moving to a team which already has 4 managers.&lt;br /&gt;- I am moving into a role I have been avoiding for 2.5 years. And I am still apprehensive about it.&lt;br /&gt;- The account that I have worked on for the past 6 months is being passed on to another Manager.&lt;br /&gt;- The worst part is, that all of this is happening at a time when we are at the peak of utilization and revenue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My usual initial reaction should have been OMG! But surprisingly, this time, for a change (pun intended), I was not worried. I somehow knew that if I have to leave this harbour, I WILL find another one. I just know that after having been through so many disasters and tough situations, I'll see through this one as well.  I am ready for the next big bomb blast. [I picture myself as one of those cartoons that swallow a bomb, but nothing happens to them except a burp. That's where I am at.] Yes I assure you that I'll crib about it being tough but I 'KNOW' I'll be better past it. Expanding the comfort zone - that's how I see it. Now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So cheers! Cheers to the change. Cheers to being worried all the time, yet being able to exceed expectations. Cheers to think I'll not be able to do it and then being able to do it. Cheers to the confusions, the turmoil, that makes us who we are! Cheers to the constant flurry of things and bomb blasts that keep happening around me, that tell me - Your are alive! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Cheers to living!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and btw, here is a conversation I am pretty proud of that happened today:&lt;br /&gt;My Manager who is in Netherlands currently pings me:&lt;br /&gt;A: Hi Nishi, What is the status of request 1, 2 and 3?&lt;br /&gt;N: All 3 delivered. Working on the 4th.&lt;br /&gt;A: there is a 4th?&lt;br /&gt;N: Yes, have replied to the client and will send it in 2 hours.&lt;br /&gt;A: Wow. What about L (another account)?&lt;br /&gt;N: Yeah, just finished following up with the analysts. All on track except one. Have given feedback to all. Will deliver by 17.&lt;br /&gt;A: &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;You are becoming superhuman or is my watch going slow?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N: *bows* I am super human. Always was. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[This is followed by loads of smirks on my face. Of course I need to say no to the workload sometime soon. But hey - the feeling of achievement of having things completed is awesome - that's a big high. Really big. &lt;em&gt;Who says I can't get high without getting stoned.&lt;/em&gt; ]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;P.S.&lt;/span&gt;: I like the phrase Trouble shooting. Is 'trouble' shooting or being shot at?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;P.S. 2&lt;/span&gt;: Proud of another line a friend wrote for me: There is whirlwind of things happening around you all the time, and you talk fast and think fast and too much. But I suspect it is just the observer/listener that's confused in the end. You Know what you just said and it will make perfect sense if people waited to understand the logic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;P.S. 3&lt;/span&gt;: Yes I am in a little show-off mood today. It's kind of an anti-climax mood, given the office politics. But this is the thing.&lt;br /&gt;P.S.4: This is kind of  the permanent expression on my face these days: Confusion, Surprise, Sarcasm, Amusement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aDlHLTxMTj0/TX-RRrJ26CI/AAAAAAAACQk/NyWzvCpTxAI/s1600/1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 152px; height: 156px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aDlHLTxMTj0/TX-RRrJ26CI/AAAAAAAACQk/NyWzvCpTxAI/s320/1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584341795790579746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-7232936125266018544?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/7232936125266018544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=7232936125266018544' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7232936125266018544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7232936125266018544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/03/vice-president-of-trouble-shooting.html' title='Vice President of Trouble Shooting'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aDlHLTxMTj0/TX-RRrJ26CI/AAAAAAAACQk/NyWzvCpTxAI/s72-c/1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-2351825149405893768</id><published>2011-03-13T13:05:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2011-04-11T17:07:16.425+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Self Analysis'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Food for Thought'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Epi-funny'/><title type='text'>That's how we do it</title><content type='html'>(It's Friday, I suddenly meet my boss's ex-boss in the hallway. He was the guy I said all sorts of things to when the company revoked transport last December.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hi PP! How are you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PP: Hi N! I am fine how have you been? How's the new project?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Am well, work's pretty good. I think we are gonna make this a big one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PP: Sounds Good. So your transport issue is resolved?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me (thinking): Now, You don't want to have this conversation now. Trust me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me (out loud): No. No it isn't. The cab is disintegrating starting 1st of April. One of the cabmates is getting married and shifting to Pitampura. *Makes a straight face*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me (thinking again): What? Did you expect me to say, it's all going fine and walk away? *rolls eyes*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PP: Oh. Oh that sounds bad. What are you doing about it? Have you found -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me (I cut in): I am gonna crib out it. *nods head* Yes, that's what I am gonna do *nods head and smile* That's easy right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PP (now laughing heartily): hahahaha. hmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Me (thinking): Ok. I have put him in a tight spot again. lol.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me (out loud): And then I'll go look for some solution. That's how it work's right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PP (still laughing): That's the way it should be *nodding head*.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me : * smiles and starts to walk away* Yeah that's how it's gonna be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PP (walking away, calls out): Good Luck!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: *looks back and shrugs* Thanks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Later)&lt;br /&gt;I narrate the incident to one of my cabmates. We laugh and then she adds: "Hmm. Come to think of it, this is how it always is.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; There is always a solution.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-2351825149405893768?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/2351825149405893768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=2351825149405893768' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/2351825149405893768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/2351825149405893768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/03/thats-how-we-do-it.html' title='That&apos;s how we do it'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-5724417502526292817</id><published>2011-03-06T23:46:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2011-03-06T23:58:11.443+05:30</updated><title type='text'>There are a few things in life</title><content type='html'>that money can't buy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mTsIghFqk5U/TXPMLI39ArI/AAAAAAAACQQ/DzgOFUaZNSM/s1600/157036_473627307407_597962407_6031550_321098_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mTsIghFqk5U/TXPMLI39ArI/AAAAAAAACQQ/DzgOFUaZNSM/s400/157036_473627307407_597962407_6031550_321098_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581028854974972594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;...for everything else there is MasterCard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;But 'everything else' just doesn't matter as much...&lt;/span&gt; :| &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A photo from a friend's wedding. I have been looking at it for months. Makes me miss dad a lot - knowing that I'll never have this moment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-5724417502526292817?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/5724417502526292817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=5724417502526292817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5724417502526292817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5724417502526292817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/03/there-are-few-things-in-life.html' title='There are a few things in life'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mTsIghFqk5U/TXPMLI39ArI/AAAAAAAACQQ/DzgOFUaZNSM/s72-c/157036_473627307407_597962407_6031550_321098_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-1142000028918671658</id><published>2011-03-03T21:32:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-05T00:15:52.871+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FBI (Facebook Imports)'/><title type='text'>Hurt?</title><content type='html'>BK Ma'am said: "Most people have someone they need to please - a boss, a wife, a gf/bf, parents, friends - and in the process of doing so they will hurt you. It's okay. It's reality. You just don't be one of them."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-1142000028918671658?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/1142000028918671658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=1142000028918671658' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1142000028918671658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1142000028918671658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/03/hurt_03.html' title='Hurt?'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-1558188707791834807</id><published>2011-02-17T11:17:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2011-02-17T12:41:20.206+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Connect the dots</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was one of those days when I just wanted to be alone, skipped office, switched off the phone and just slept to my heart's desire. And ofcourse watched some movies (I forward and watch only the good parts), rested my tired back and that bump on the eyelid I am sporting these days (Wiki telles me it called a stye).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And how can I forget my favourite pastime - thinking. Analysis is more than an occupational hazard now. Khair. Chetan Bhagat's logic in his book 2 states was this: He wanted to be a writer and in the meanwhile he wanted a high-paying job. So when asked which company he'd join he said WPM - Whoever pays more. .... I got my mid-year review the day before and I was told that while am a good analyst I should now start thinking about growing the business rather than just delivering. They are right - I should be doing it. But really - am I ever gonna be able to do it? ergh. It's frustrating. Very frustrating. I know I chose it but still I am going to crib about it.&lt;br /&gt;Everytime something new starts, the first reaction is whoa - Change, i don't like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'll see you through.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note, I also got a call from an old friend who recently launched her chocolate boutique in the middle of Kamla Nagar and wants me to join as the 'gift wrapper'. Wow. My dream job (my own trousseau and crafts store). But won't pay as much as this one. Of course I can do it as a side one now and make it full-time when it pays as much. It definitely sounds exciting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;One lifetime is not enough for the infinite lives I want to live.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-1558188707791834807?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/1558188707791834807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=1558188707791834807' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1558188707791834807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1558188707791834807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/02/so.html' title='Connect the dots'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-2759588201149032065</id><published>2011-02-11T15:39:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-02-11T15:49:19.456+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Aisey hi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Self Analysis'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Food for Thought'/><title type='text'>A little something</title><content type='html'>I realized today, that when I first meet people, I put them on a higher pedestal than myself. It may be a case of low self-esteem (and I blame my weight for it) (erm.. Did anyone notice what I just did, oh well.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I meet a good-looking girl for instance I have this feeling that she is way better than me. When I get to know more about my seniors in the team and the kind of things they have done, my first reaction is “Wow!” and the second is “Will I ever be able to do it?”. Somehow their achievements become a burden on our conversations. I feel shy/stupid to speak my mind assuming that he or she would know way better. And this shy/vulnerable side tells me to run from them or not share my thoughts openly with them.... (Wow, this is amazing – after all the years of ‘Never cared for they say’ I am actually writing this.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, gradually I realize that they are just normal people, who normally get angry like I do, act foolish like I do. They are not as super-humn as they appear to be and, well, they are great not because they wanted to be great, they just did what came to them. “Greatness”, if any, is a byproduct of their actions/experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being bogged down by others' achievements and thinking I not good enough has acted as a barrier to actually getting to know these people. Over my recent trip I realized that they are well-natured normal, really just normal people – with a pretty face or a hefty degree sometimes – but decidedly normal. And I can Be normal with them too. &lt;em&gt;*Breathes* &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-2759588201149032065?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/2759588201149032065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=2759588201149032065' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/2759588201149032065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/2759588201149032065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/02/little-something.html' title='A little something'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-7256294468499576353</id><published>2011-02-03T10:56:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-10T22:46:45.363+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Nobody knows</title><content type='html'>I think about the last time I saw you... ALL the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a picture of you I took on that trip. No one knows there is one. I look at it occasionally and think - What if I could have stopped you from going? When I heard you coughing, why didn't I turn and saw you one more time? Why didn't you stop when you said you won't go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are many other pictures from that trip that came out well. I don't want to click anymore because of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe in Vaishno Devi anymore. And when people tell me about there trips, I imagine the same things could happen to them and secretly pray it is not tragic for them. When people give me 'prasad' from Vaishno Devi, I throw it in the closest dustbin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note, people tell me that Dadi and Baba prayed a lot to the Devi to have you. She died years ago and all these years you were here to take care of Baba. Baba died in 2008. You left exactly 362 days later. People say you were here for your parents. (Who is here for me?) And Devi took you back in her lap and that this is the best possible 'exit' anyone could have from the circle of life and death. Moksha. Nirvana. So I shouldn't be angry with the Devi. Still she and I are not on speaking terms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a picture of you in my office desk in the second drawer from the top, under the paper laid at the bottom of it. Sometime I forget that it is there - but other times it is a way of knowing you are around me. It's a little comforting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ask for your permission more often now, than I used to earlier. Somehow, it was easier to be a rebellion when you were around. The other day, at Sonam's place, both she and Divya drank wine - as much as I wanted to - I did not even touch it. In fact I got up saying that I am feeling out of place and I left while the only thought in my mind was what you will think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I once saw you or I think I saw you standing among the crowd watching me. It's hard to make peace with knowing it isn't you. It can't be. This has happened twice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saw a friend crying on her dad's shoulder after the wedding, at the time of bidai. The moment is etched in my mind - knowing that I'll never have this moment.&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mTsIghFqk5U/TXPMLI39ArI/AAAAAAAACQQ/DzgOFUaZNSM/s1600/157036_473627307407_597962407_6031550_321098_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-7256294468499576353?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7256294468499576353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7256294468499576353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/02/nobody-knows.html' title='Nobody knows'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-371739410216221536</id><published>2011-01-31T00:55:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-05T00:15:52.872+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FBI (Facebook Imports)'/><title type='text'>Relax!</title><content type='html'>Sometimes we raise the bar of our happiness so high that we never get happy. Relax.. people have been happy for a lot less.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-371739410216221536?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/371739410216221536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=371739410216221536' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/371739410216221536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/371739410216221536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/01/relax.html' title='Relax!'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-3563135396611132504</id><published>2011-01-23T10:32:00.007+05:30</published><updated>2011-04-22T23:13:21.071+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><title type='text'>I have grown-up now, silly</title><content type='html'>An innocent smile&lt;br /&gt;lost.&lt;br /&gt;lost in a sea of people&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the spark in the eyes&lt;br /&gt;dimmed.&lt;br /&gt;dimmed by the haze of lost dreams&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cheerful, beautiful eyes&lt;br /&gt;darkened.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WvdHsGxQRco/TbG75JhMGpI/AAAAAAAACSc/vg1fUD_Xo-o/s1600/170766_146576215400374_100001439906190_278451_1543113_o.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;darkened by a void gouged by destiny&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;disheveled hair&lt;br /&gt;straightened.&lt;br /&gt;Straightened by the complex ways of the world&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a sense of wonder&lt;br /&gt;answered.&lt;br /&gt;Answered by the curt 'no's from people&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the cute dimple on the cheeks&lt;br /&gt;filled.&lt;br /&gt;filled with worries, nostalgia and a pinch of hurt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the air of happiness&lt;br /&gt;replaced.&lt;br /&gt;Replaced by blooms of gloom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When did coke get replaced by screw-driver?&lt;br /&gt;When did she lose her ringing laughter?&lt;br /&gt;When did she stop writing?&lt;br /&gt;I think right after she stopped listening&lt;br /&gt;to the silly teen-aged girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Inspired from a picture I saw on fb and a line of Ashu's latest post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WvdHsGxQRco/TbG75JhMGpI/AAAAAAAACSc/vg1fUD_Xo-o/s1600/170766_146576215400374_100001439906190_278451_1543113_o.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 304px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WvdHsGxQRco/TbG75JhMGpI/AAAAAAAACSc/vg1fUD_Xo-o/s400/170766_146576215400374_100001439906190_278451_1543113_o.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598462402280299154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-3563135396611132504?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/3563135396611132504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=3563135396611132504' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3563135396611132504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3563135396611132504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-have-grown-up-now-silly.html' title='I have grown-up now, silly'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WvdHsGxQRco/TbG75JhMGpI/AAAAAAAACSc/vg1fUD_Xo-o/s72-c/170766_146576215400374_100001439906190_278451_1543113_o.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-6011761781714879729</id><published>2011-01-16T15:12:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-01-16T21:37:21.303+05:30</updated><title type='text'>World's a fractal</title><content type='html'>Parts of it resemble the complete design. Its like that poem "To see the world in a grain of sand and eternity in an hour etc. etc..".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had a pretty interesting discussion today around the habits associated with directions and disha pranams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Hypothesis:&lt;/span&gt; Each direction is associated with certain traits - good and bad. North is associated with ego, self-centered-ness, anger and arrogance. East is associated with attachment and resistance to change. South is associated with desire - both physical and mental, while West is associated with gluttony and greed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come to think of it, it is true in so many cases. It may just be a coincidence - but it seems to be true nonetheless.&lt;br /&gt;1.  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Human Body:&lt;/span&gt; North has the brain - the storehouse of arrogance, ego and  anger. South has the genitals - the desire. East has the heart - the  bearer of attachment. West has the liver - the sponsor of digestion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.Take&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; India&lt;/span&gt; for example. Eastern India is the least developed or changed with the times and people there generally stick to their traditions with great ardor. North Indians by nature are short fuse -angered easily- we like to show-off a little too much. West India is the hub of business and money. Gujjus make the best businessmen and I can just go on and about how much a gujju is in love with food. South India has given us Silk Smitha way before Rakhi Sawant striked. Love scenes have been common in Mollywood before they entered Hindi movies. Intelligence - thirst for knowledge is also pretty noticeable in southern India.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Europe&lt;/span&gt; for instance. Western Europe is way more forward than eastern is. Southern Europe has Spain and Italy. South of France is know for its ability to fulfill all types of human desires. North European - well they don't want to be interested in a lot of stuff happening around the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The World:&lt;/span&gt; Eastern Hemisphere has stuck to its traditions and culture - It has bee slow to change. Conservatives. Western Hemisphere is the leader in business and paradise for gluttons. South: How many of us haven't desired the desirable Latinos and North, well what can I say, most of the human population is above the equator - and egoists we are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coincidence may be an explanation. It's a really good coincidence then.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-6011761781714879729?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/6011761781714879729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=6011761781714879729' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/6011761781714879729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/6011761781714879729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2011/01/worlds-fractal.html' title='World&apos;s a fractal'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-8001306502560577411</id><published>2010-12-29T09:16:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-12-29T10:24:28.420+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Lies and Liabilities</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;The times of bullshit&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Early morning in the cab, and this is what I read '&lt;a href="http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/SC-woman-judge-lists-daughters-as-liabilities/articleshow/7181234.cms"&gt;SC woman judge lists daughters as ‘liabilities’&lt;/a&gt; '. The lady has declared 'two daughters to be married' as a liability. She didn't say the daughter is a liability, she said the burden of marriage and dowry is. And isn't that true? I mean who are we fooling? India has probably the world's largest middle class population. After paying for the kids' (both boys and girls) education, car, home, food, gas, phone, Petrol, festivals, relatives - if a middle class person is worried about her daughter's marriage - is it really as obnoxious as the media is portraying it to be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And isn't it quite true? My family has been looking for a groom for my sister and lo and behold - haven't we seen so many jerks asking for exorbitant dowry. And if it isn't dowry, they'd want a 'lavish' wedding at a farmhouse or a Deepali/Kwatra tent house. The bare minimums would come in close to 10-15 lacs. Lavish means over the roof. Instead of preaching 'don't think of your daughters as a liability' they should probably preach 'don't think of your son as a golden goose' and may be then it'll be easier to list daughters as assets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes I earn, and I probably earn more than certain sons do, I have studied well and if not extraordinary I have done okay for myself and my family. But does that mean when I get married, it won't cost money? It's one of the prime stresses and if you already know you are not one but three sisters, it's enough to to cause hairfall. Not getting married is an even worse situation. Get a loan to get your daughter married - and pay it back later - that sounds a way out to me. Oh, but obviously once the daughter is married the additional earning source shifts base too - paradox, no?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, even after all my contemporary education and being 'forward' - there have been numerous times when I have been made to wish that I was a boy. This is one of those. Heck that six inches gives so much freedom to the person as well as the families, I say!&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;Us, women, we like to be lied to and be told that we aren't a liability and then we are made to feel so by the society (NOT family) everyday. &lt;em&gt;I love the way you lie. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-8001306502560577411?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/8001306502560577411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=8001306502560577411' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8001306502560577411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8001306502560577411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/12/lies-and-liabilities.html' title='Lies and Liabilities'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-8235594699265638658</id><published>2010-12-15T23:57:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2010-12-16T06:46:38.724+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><title type='text'>Just for now</title><content type='html'>Just for now&lt;br /&gt;don't ask me how&lt;br /&gt;don't ask me why&lt;br /&gt;just hold my hand&lt;br /&gt;and walk under the evening sky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah the world's been a little too bad lately&lt;br /&gt;but you are gonna be fine&lt;br /&gt;and you don't know it yet&lt;br /&gt;But I am secretly on your side&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leave your worries behind&lt;br /&gt;and stop turning&lt;br /&gt;Stop by here instead, and over a coffee&lt;br /&gt;tell me what's burning?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if&lt;br /&gt;this is what you wanted&lt;br /&gt;or that what you need&lt;br /&gt;but just know that there is a friend indeed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I won't judge or be mean&lt;br /&gt;maybe crack a few jokes if you'd allow&lt;br /&gt;But it'll be a little relief&lt;br /&gt;... Just for now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I won't get you out of it&lt;br /&gt;No.. I won't&lt;br /&gt;But I am here if you need me&lt;br /&gt;and not if you don't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Written right after watching 'The Holiday' (the nth time). Also seen here is my favorite line from Boston Legal&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-8235594699265638658?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/8235594699265638658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=8235594699265638658' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8235594699265638658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8235594699265638658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/12/just-for-now.html' title='Just for now'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-3292908270207707655</id><published>2010-12-06T19:52:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-12-06T19:54:46.375+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Celebration</title><content type='html'>We sat at the table together. You calm and under-control as you always are and I excited as any other day when I am with you. Its an anniversary. I stare at the tempting cake. A women looks at our table smilingly. You get your hand around my shoulders, hold the knife with me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and blow the candles off on my 8th birthday cake. Thanks daddy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;P.S.: Inspired from this picture I saw on fb a few weeks ago. The idea of a twist in tale is kinda old though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/TPqZcMa80CI/AAAAAAAACHs/wB6GjPQDaPw/s1600/63633_477209776760_732866760_6216543_1136252_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546914600709836834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/TPqZcMa80CI/AAAAAAAACHs/wB6GjPQDaPw/s400/63633_477209776760_732866760_6216543_1136252_n.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-3292908270207707655?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/3292908270207707655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=3292908270207707655' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3292908270207707655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3292908270207707655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/12/celebration.html' title='Celebration'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/TPqZcMa80CI/AAAAAAAACHs/wB6GjPQDaPw/s72-c/63633_477209776760_732866760_6216543_1136252_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-3814069913345263951</id><published>2010-12-05T00:40:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2010-12-05T00:55:56.264+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Break ke Dauran II</title><content type='html'>Mom: Kyaa kar rahi hai? Itni der se awaaz de rahi hu..&lt;br /&gt;Me: Kuch likh rahi hu, bas khatam ho gya... ek minute main aayi.&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Kya likha hai? Kuch mujhe bhi suna de.&lt;br /&gt;Me: (awkward pause) er..well... ok..&lt;br /&gt;(I read out something )&lt;br /&gt;Mom: yeh toh bahut achha hai, kissi magazine main kyun nahin bhejti?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I looked at her and managed a smile. My heart was grinning end to end.)&lt;br /&gt;--------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first time I seriously 'wrote' something was about 5 and a half years ago. Mom told me &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;today&lt;/span&gt; that I write well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nothing else matters.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.: Also, interesting is how the value of a parent's opinion of you changes with age.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-3814069913345263951?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/3814069913345263951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=3814069913345263951' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3814069913345263951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3814069913345263951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/12/break-ke-dauran-ii.html' title='Break ke Dauran II'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-8354354873307997381</id><published>2010-12-03T19:41:00.012+05:30</published><updated>2010-12-03T22:59:42.985+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Break ke Dauran</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Flying at the speed of light&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thoughts were spinning in my head &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;So. I heard too many lectures from too many people that I should get a life away from work. I did have it, but wasn't quite living it too well. Heck, all work meant my GK level going down (1 discussion, 2 seriously foolish answers =&gt; Start reading the newspaper again baby!) and me turning super worried, super dumb and the kind of person I sweared I won't be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And I don't even know what kind of things I've said &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mouth kept moving and my mind went dead &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A short 9-day sabbatical from work and I am back. The challenge, however, is to keep being me &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;when&lt;/span&gt; I am working. And I realized that following are the top 5 time-wasters I indulge (indulged) in that ate most of my free time and didn't leave anything to spend on the things that mattered:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Facebook:&lt;/span&gt; Oh well, what were you expecting? Had to top the list, in fact, it has the potential of being the only one on the list, but wait I have got more.&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Listing-type blogs&lt;/span&gt;: 50-creative-ads - there goes your half an hour.&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Youtube&lt;/span&gt;: I solemnly swear I was up to no good.. ever *winks*&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Star World&lt;/span&gt;: Re-Runs ran away with a lot of time. And, yes, its loads of stuff to 'discuss' but there is a line I need to draw in my sketchbook.. so limiting it.&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Brooding&lt;/span&gt;: over the past, over the present, over the future, over spilled milk, over a lost opportunity, over work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What was left when that fire was gone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I thought it felt right but that right was wrong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All caught up in the eye of the storm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And trying to figure out what it's like moving on. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;... So, picking up the pieces, now where to begin?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Solutions Solutions!:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are not oh-my-god-why-didn't-I think-of-it solutions. Simple things that worked for me:&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woke up this mornin' feelin' fine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;There's somethin' special on my mind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;1. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;No FB/twitter updates until it says '&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;updated a week ago&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;' under my last update&lt;/span&gt; - Simple reminder yet Very effective. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Success rate: Moderate to High. Even if I don't really stick to the regime (yeah well, need to get over the addiction) atleast I resist the temptation to post anything there. This helps in three ways:&lt;br /&gt;a. I don't get 'comments' on it so no future waste of time.&lt;br /&gt;b. I don't post my thoughts instantaneously which gives me time to think in detail and if all goes well I can blog about it. That implies CPR to my &lt;strike&gt;drain&lt;/strike&gt; ..er..blog. (Won't be a drain anymore.)&lt;br /&gt;c. Significant reduction in urge to check fb on my mobile =&gt; Significant stability in my mobile's balance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Save the URLs or mark for viewing later&lt;/span&gt;. For email forwards and listing type blogs I told my self that I'll view it later. And more often than not - I lost interest 'later'.&lt;br /&gt;Success Rate: Very high (for me). May be because I have an undiagnosed ADD. Well whatever, works for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Er.. Well.. in honest, simple words: If you Are thinking of Saving time. You wouldn't go back there. I made a list of 41 things (it kept on growing over the week) I decided I wanted to do. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;In the words of A.A. Milne: When free-time, goto list ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The list included simple stuff such as watching Social Network and buying an NSC to difficult ones such as joining the gym (oh yeah baby, back at it in full swing.)&lt;br /&gt;Success Rate: As I write this, 32 of the 41 things have reached completion and said a loud No to youtube. So that's a high. Very high \m/.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I have asked a friend to give me the entire seasons of FRIENDS, HIMYM, Kyle XY and Lie to Me etc. Since i HAVE them now. The urge to see them on tv reduces. I can watch it at any time. Success Rate: Moderate to High. Well, kinda skewed logic. But again, works for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. People just tell me to stop thinking. No one says how. Here is the 3 'how-to's' I figured:&lt;br /&gt;a.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; STOP listening to sad/brooding songs:&lt;/span&gt; This led me to look for happy songs. This led me to realize I gotta let go of a LOT of my favorite songs. This led me to realize that I can 'try' disassociating myself from songs (which I realized later is not possible for me, they still affect me). So deleted lot of 'seemingly-good' music from my phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It's hard to let you go.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I know what it takes to move on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I know how it feels to lie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Success Rate:&lt;/span&gt; Very high. In fact I am back to the I-feel-like-dancing/talking mood. My mom is happy as I am back to talking to her in depth. (Good moods are contagious). Have restarted meeting people offline. Have restarted pulling some serious legs. Well - some bad pjs are gonna make there way back here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;b. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Write it somewhere:&lt;/span&gt; That's like baap of all cliches, but seriously write it off. Makes thinking easier. And when I re-read some stuff, it makes me realize the flaw in my thought process (oh yeah it does). And I realized, I don't really have to 'share' all thoughts with friends (even close ones) and hence I get the privacy and vent while they get freedom from the dull and boring me. (Well this doesn't mean no 'thoughtful' discussions with friends. Hell no. This means no repeated 'thoughtful' discussions. (btw if you know me you'll know 'repeated' here implies atleast 15-20))&lt;br /&gt;Corollary: Read the stuff you wrote somewhere. Old posts for example. I read &lt;a href="http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2007/11/5-good-things.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2009/05/ladies-and-unke-bhaiyon.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9135509488357594469&amp;amp;postID=8443256148566667695"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; lately.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Success Rate&lt;/span&gt;: Moderate to high. Haven't bored my friends by talking about my crushes repeatedly. (Oh and crushing makes you write weird stuff in a diary...lol.) That's a start. And workplace venting has boiled down to nothing. In fact, as I jot things down, I get more ideas to write about later. Pirogresss, I say!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;c. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Restarted reading newspaper&lt;/span&gt;: Self-absorbed. That's one word that described my thought process off late. Realized that not reading the newspaper (for like 4 months until before this week) actually helped in remaining self-absorbed. So, to not be self-absorbed, be aware of whats happening around you - read the newspaper and I don't mean just the movie section. (Oh this will help in giving not-so-dumb-answers too.)&lt;br /&gt;Success Rate: Moderate. To be properly tested next week actually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.: They say - 'We have had many first days.' Well, knowing myself I preempted that as well. So I have tried and tested the above more than twice or thrice this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Somethin' tells me I'm into something good&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/R3vkOxLBJ4I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/alkGOI5fThc/s1600-h/0618_133344.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/R3vkOxLBJ4I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/alkGOI5fThc/s400/0618_133344.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150961541197145986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-8354354873307997381?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/8354354873307997381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=8354354873307997381' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8354354873307997381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8354354873307997381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/12/break-ke-dauran.html' title='Break ke Dauran'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/R3vkOxLBJ4I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/alkGOI5fThc/s72-c/0618_133344.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-1221492891745501251</id><published>2010-12-03T09:11:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2010-12-03T12:26:54.317+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><title type='text'>Fireflies</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/TPhnAWVXjnI/AAAAAAAACHk/znV1hwyG-Bo/s1600/moto_3162.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 274px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/TPhnAWVXjnI/AAAAAAAACHk/znV1hwyG-Bo/s400/moto_3162.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546296196799630962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I don't promise to see you through it&lt;br /&gt;And I won't be here when the day dawns&lt;br /&gt;I won't be here when darkness surrounds&lt;br /&gt;or when it is difficult to move on...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I promise,&lt;br /&gt; my presence would be like the fireflies&lt;br /&gt;Won't be able to light up the darkness&lt;br /&gt;But will bring a smile among doubts and lies...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;"&gt;Inspired from 'Fireflies' Oil on Canvas by&lt;a href="http://www.prenitadutt.com/"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.prenitadutt.com/"&gt;Prenita Dutt&lt;/a&gt; @ Open Palm Court IHC (On till 6th December)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-1221492891745501251?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/1221492891745501251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=1221492891745501251' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1221492891745501251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1221492891745501251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/12/fireflies.html' title='Fireflies'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/TPhnAWVXjnI/AAAAAAAACHk/znV1hwyG-Bo/s72-c/moto_3162.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-2962896389258745001</id><published>2010-11-30T22:21:00.007+05:30</published><updated>2010-12-03T12:26:54.317+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><title type='text'>Ravine</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/TPUxtmt5egI/AAAAAAAACHM/vpRlzEfmjpw/s1600/earth-cracks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/TPUxtmt5egI/AAAAAAAACHM/vpRlzEfmjpw/s400/earth-cracks.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545393175733565954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the cracks of my mind&lt;br /&gt;and in the crevices of my memories&lt;br /&gt;lie places where I have been&lt;br /&gt;and the places where I could be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where the cracks end&lt;br /&gt;is the beginning of me&lt;br /&gt;and if the ending was any different&lt;br /&gt;I would be you&lt;br /&gt;and you would be me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Inspired by 'Ravine' - an ink on paper artwork by Gautam Bhatia at Triveni Kala Sangam (on till 9th Dec).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-2962896389258745001?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/2962896389258745001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=2962896389258745001' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/2962896389258745001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/2962896389258745001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/11/ravine.html' title='Ravine'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/TPUxtmt5egI/AAAAAAAACHM/vpRlzEfmjpw/s72-c/earth-cracks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-3508499103930727122</id><published>2010-11-16T11:41:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-11-16T18:49:16.965+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Thinking about you</title><content type='html'>Every day, I have thought about you only twice...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;...Evertime I breathed in and every time I breathed out.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;P.S.: These lines have been roaming in my head for too long. Inspired from one of Ashu's poems. Tried putting it in my version of 'If you love me' but oh well that has to wait some more ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-3508499103930727122?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/3508499103930727122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=3508499103930727122' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3508499103930727122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3508499103930727122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/11/thinking-about-you.html' title='Thinking about you'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-9038938622658163316</id><published>2010-10-26T09:32:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-11-15T19:18:47.142+05:30</updated><title type='text'>What will I do without you?</title><content type='html'>I think I'll slowly rot. Then the salty water would dry. Then I'll disappear inch by inch. Then my heart would become weak. My blood would be less red. My mind would be clouded. And by then if I don't go insane, I think I'll follow you and try to die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I don't die or if people won't let me die I'll run away from people and lock myself up in your house and touch the things that once belonged to you - and I'll remember how we argued over them. I'll stop eating because I used to wait for you to eat before I would. Everything would be pointless - the Diwali lights - who needs them? They won't light up the darkness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll miss you waking me up at 5 am for morning tea. I'll miss you massaging my feet when I was in pain. I'll wait for you to buy me a saree because I have never worn anything anyone else bought me. I'll miss you telling me - Tu sochti bahut hai. Fikar mat kar, maine sab soch rakha hai.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll wake up every morning at 5 and roam around our house looking for you - knowing completely well its been 630 days since you have gone. And I'll worry endlessly about what did I do to make you go away. I'll worry about everything you left behind and everything you did not.&lt;br /&gt;You used to say, "dekh ek din chala jaauga toh khub yaad karegi." And when we used to fight and you would say main chala jaunga... why, why for even one minute why did I think I would be able to live without you. I guess, at that time, when you said you'll never come back - you didn't mean it, did you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now I know what never is. Never means that no matter what I think say or do - I'll never hear you. I'll never hear you shouting. I'll never hear you teasing me. I'll never hear you making plans for going out that would irritate me. I wouldn't see you driving off to office. I will never cook for you. Oh what I wouldn't do to have you come back, if only you would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What will I do without you? I wouldn't live anymore, I'll just exist.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-9038938622658163316?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/9038938622658163316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/9038938622658163316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/10/what-will-i-do-without-you.html' title='What will I do without you?'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-6581939965334565013</id><published>2010-10-24T03:44:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-12-03T12:26:54.318+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><title type='text'>Loved Ones...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;When tears trickle down their face&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;They look for comfort and you are there&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Not knowing what to say or do ,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Makes it hard and sad for you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You try to put their smile back on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wish their troubles would soon be gone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And when u see them crying still ,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You feel helpless,disappointed in urself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;They hold you tight and just won't stop&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You ask them why, what happened, whats wrong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And let them know you are there for them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But it makes them cry even harder still.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;No matter how much you try to hold your tears&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;No matter how much you try to show you are strong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You forget, the bond is just so strong,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And a small one rolls down your own.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You hug each other&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and exchange smiles.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nothing feels more important.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Anything, for even a faint smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://keshavi.blogspot.com/2008/06/loved-ones.html"&gt;Sourced from KV's Blog&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&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/3399631395932953597-6581939965334565013?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/6581939965334565013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/6581939965334565013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/10/loved-ones.html' title='Loved Ones...'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-4044875404075224154</id><published>2010-10-10T01:47:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-12-04T10:11:11.085+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><title type='text'>सुना?</title><content type='html'>आज फिर अल्विदा कहा है,&lt;br /&gt;शांत है, अकेली है रात,&lt;br /&gt;पर कल सुबह जब जागोगे,&lt;br /&gt;सूरज की हर किरण कहेगी मेरे दिल की बात&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;धूप बढ़ेगी तो इसका एहसास और बढ़ेगा,&lt;br /&gt;और शाम को हज़ारों रंगों से फिर सुनना,&lt;br /&gt;हल्का सा झोंखा  मुझे छूकर तुम तक जायेगा,&lt;br /&gt;उसके स्पर्श, उसके एहसास मैं मुझे ढूंढना&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;जब तारे भी वही बोले तो समझना मैं ही थी&lt;br /&gt;सांस थामे रात सन्नाटे में खङी थी&lt;br /&gt;फिर जब तुम्हारा दिल दोहराया वही लफ्ज़&lt;br /&gt;तो सपनों में मिलना, तुम्हारे इंतज़ार में मैं वही थी ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-4044875404075224154?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/4044875404075224154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=4044875404075224154' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/4044875404075224154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/4044875404075224154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/10/blog-post.html' title='सुना?'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-3620616223048762544</id><published>2010-10-07T01:28:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-10-17T00:35:41.830+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Drift</title><content type='html'>It was different then. I was bold. I didn't care what (any of) you think. Now I think I do. I want to empty my head once again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-3620616223048762544?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/3620616223048762544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=3620616223048762544' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3620616223048762544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3620616223048762544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/10/drift.html' title='Drift'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-8544263305376217166</id><published>2010-10-05T22:32:00.007+05:30</published><updated>2010-10-06T00:35:55.261+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Just-a-graduate</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me (to an interviewee who is a MS in IT from a US university):&lt;/span&gt; Do you intend to pursue MBA or any other higher studies in the future?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Interviewee:&lt;/span&gt; I want to pursue Ph.D. someday. I really want to get into research.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me thinking:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What??? business research aint related to Ph.D. in anyway except the ambiguous word "Research". Have you read the job description?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me out loud: &lt;/span&gt;OK. and why is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Interviewee:&lt;/span&gt; I think just being a graduate today is..urm.. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bad&lt;/span&gt; education...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me thinking:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Heyyy! I am 'just-a-graduate' too crazy woman!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Interviewee:&lt;/span&gt; ... &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;I think people serious about there careers would think about higher studies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(I shoot a look at my manager, catch a smirk there.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;I was dejected. She was rejected. (grr and lol respectively :P)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;How this girl(the interviewee) would hope she hadn't said it; How this girl(me) hopes she hadn't said it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; :|&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strike&gt;P.S: FYI she also didn't know many answers which led to the eventual rejection. The above scene was hardly the reason for it. Its just the unknowing statement she made that made me put this up.&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me thinking: Since when did I start explaining my posts trying to be politically correct?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-8544263305376217166?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/8544263305376217166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=8544263305376217166' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8544263305376217166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8544263305376217166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/10/just-graduate.html' title='Just-a-graduate'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-4155795853547099897</id><published>2010-10-02T11:31:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-10-02T11:38:05.584+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I am a loser.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am losing...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... weight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yipeeeee!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.1: 7 kgs in 2 months, baby. Have a drink on me ;)&lt;br /&gt;P.S.2: No VLCC, no crash diets - pure hardwork and determination... I am loving it :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-4155795853547099897?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/4155795853547099897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=4155795853547099897' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/4155795853547099897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/4155795853547099897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-am-loser.html' title='I am a loser.'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-8249531762610472232</id><published>2010-09-30T15:34:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-10-10T15:41:29.460+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I think I'm ready</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You can let go now daddy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You can let go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Oh I think I'm ready to do this on my own&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It's still a little bit scary&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But I want you to know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'll be okay now daddy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You can let go...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Crystal Shawanda - You can let go)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;I too died that day... and then I was sent back to do this. I think I'm ready&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-8249531762610472232?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8249531762610472232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8249531762610472232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-think-im-ready.html' title='I think I&apos;m ready'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-3200333110246599505</id><published>2010-09-29T10:28:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-09-29T10:29:41.749+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I am working on it.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;As I get older I will be stronger. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what am I working towards? That one day tragedies, setbacks and mishaps won't shake me, my confidence, my faith. Yes, they would test them, but I'll pass that test - without fail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;It won't be easy. It'll be worth it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-3200333110246599505?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/3200333110246599505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=3200333110246599505' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3200333110246599505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3200333110246599505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-am-working-on-it.html' title='I am working on it.'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-4447844560941820195</id><published>2010-09-24T23:24:00.007+05:30</published><updated>2010-09-25T00:34:50.272+05:30</updated><title type='text'>This part of my life is called 'Deciding'</title><content type='html'>Whenever I will look back to this part of my life, here are a few things I'll always remember:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;When you don't have anything, you work hard to get it or create&lt;/span&gt;. Can't go on complaining - doesn't help. Gotta trust yourself that you'll be able to do it. And yes you'll be able to do it.&lt;br /&gt;- You'll never have a team of star analysts to work for you. You gotta make star analyst out of people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;It is not about what you didn't have. It's about what you did with what you had&lt;/span&gt;. Make the best of it. Do a rocking job - ki jab socho iske baare main - you say - yaar kaam woh kiya tha.. kya kaam kiya tha.. phodh dala..lol Seriously, itna mast kaam kiya ki kya batau... uske baad log kya kehte hai i don't care.. I know I did it to the best of my capabilities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember my first performance evaluation at EVS:&lt;br /&gt;N: So Nishi, what do you think your rating is on this one?&lt;br /&gt;Me: N I know it was one of my best works. Even if you give me a 4 - I don't care - I know I did my best. There is nothing more I could have done. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I feel like a winner even before you say it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Being good is easy. Inspiring goodness in others is tough&lt;/span&gt;. Job satisfaction: I want to say thanks to you nishi for helping me get better at this. :) :) :) 1 mahine ki thakan aur frustration mita di, ek sentence ne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. That night when C was really really pissed with us. I had made up my mind. And I told her: What we can't do, we can't do. What we can do, none can do it better than us. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Make only a few rules and stick to them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;When the going gets tough, the tough become super human and get going&lt;/span&gt; - even if alone, even if beaten, even if broken. Keep going. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;When no one joins you, don't bother, WALK ALONE. Ekla chaalo re.&lt;/span&gt;.. (Source: From an elder brother, I thought I never had.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I asked why? My heart said because you want to. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Madness - that's what it is.&lt;/span&gt; That's what it was. That's what it'll always be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Some events in your life change you forever. For better or for worse &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;that is your choice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Who says god doesn't exist? It does when someone calls u suddenly when u are at your lowest, when your friends tell you things you wish you heard everyday and things you need to hear everyday, when&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; you know it'll be all okay&lt;/span&gt; :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. One day it'll all make sense... Till den enjoy d confusion!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.Murphy's law is a test of resilience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Just heard that 3 days of effort has gone down the drain. And you know what? Now I am getting so used to it, I am not even disturbed by it. In fact, I already have the solution for it in place too. Jab itni aag bhujai hai, ek aur sahi. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kyunki (fire)fighter kabhi nahin harta&lt;/span&gt;. lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;12. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Elasticity for disaster expands with each one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Whatever you do in life will be insignificant. But it is really important that you do it, because no one else will. - M.K. Gandhi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. N: Hi Mike, how are you? How's work?&lt;br /&gt;M: I am good N. I am very good. How are you? Work has been great. I am working 18 hours a day these days.&lt;br /&gt;N: So this one is really tough eh?&lt;br /&gt;M: Yeah, you learn a lot more on a bad day. You can say I am learning a lot these days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;...I am learning a lot these days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Choices: &lt;/span&gt; Agent Smith: ... You can't win. It's pointless to keep fighting. Why, Mr. Anderson? Why? Why do you persist?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Neo: Because I choose too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; A bigger problem is waiting...&lt;/span&gt; ... to bring out the best (that you didn't know you had) in you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Fear&lt;/span&gt; is fear. But your reaction to it can become the story of your lifetime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. Everything is possible.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The impossible just takes longer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19.When you really want something to happen, the whole universe conspires so that your wish comes true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Even Sachin Tendulkar has to prove himself at every match. &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;What are you made of?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the 'something' she looked for everywhere&lt;br /&gt;was to be found only in this place&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;her heart had always carried&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;her quantum of solace....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-4447844560941820195?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/4447844560941820195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=4447844560941820195' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/4447844560941820195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/4447844560941820195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/09/this-part-of-my-life-is-called-deciding.html' title='This part of my life is called &apos;Deciding&apos;'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-384731771652279446</id><published>2010-09-15T10:09:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-09-15T10:22:14.069+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Wednesday morning blues</title><content type='html'>roz maala khul ke bikharti hai, woh roz moti samet-ti hai, phir ghabrati hai, phir himmat karti hai, kuch dur chalti hai, phir bikhar jaati hai.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeh aansun bhi saaley dhokebaaz nikle, ankhon ko jab tab chhodh ke, gaalon se sajish karke tapak jatey... kehtey hai ankhon se beh kar dil halka kar rahe hai&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;aur yeh dil kamina kam hai kya, jitna marzi samjhaon, humesha ulte paon ulti disha main hi bhagta hai.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;~frustrated~&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;~tired~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-384731771652279446?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/384731771652279446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=384731771652279446' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/384731771652279446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/384731771652279446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/09/wednesday-morning-blues.html' title='Wednesday morning blues'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-1720499713913241403</id><published>2010-09-14T00:14:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-09-26T16:12:42.386+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Fikar</title><content type='html'>Beta, sab theek toh hai na? Itni der kyun ho rahi hai aajkal?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kaam samajh toh aa raha haina?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeh le 20 rupaye, chocolate le aana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nahin, tu hi chal. Teri choice achhi hai.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kya hua, kuch nahin hua. Sab theek hai. Tu fikar mat kar main hu na.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-1720499713913241403?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/1720499713913241403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=1720499713913241403' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1720499713913241403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1720499713913241403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/09/fikar.html' title='Fikar'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-8202905762162732725</id><published>2010-09-07T02:05:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-09-19T15:07:24.149+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lyrics'/><title type='text'>But it rained.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;This is about those who are left behind..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wrapped in a polythene, tucked away safe in my mind,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;a little goodbye, maybe, or just a passing smile,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the clouds are all beside me to see me through all the good times,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;maybe he'll come back again, make up for the forsaken time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Well does life get any better&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;more yesterday than today,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;How I thought the sun would shine tomorrow,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But it rained...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- Parikrama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-8202905762162732725?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/8202905762162732725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=8202905762162732725' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8202905762162732725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8202905762162732725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/09/but-it-rained.html' title='But it rained.'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-7028225659986654938</id><published>2010-09-04T23:15:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2010-09-19T15:08:38.252+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><title type='text'>You. Me. We used to be.</title><content type='html'>Yes I did.&lt;br /&gt;Yes I did try it.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I did try saying it.&lt;br /&gt;You pretend to forget so easily.&lt;br /&gt;You pretend to forget.&lt;br /&gt;You pretend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stopped.&lt;br /&gt;I stopped hoping.&lt;br /&gt;I stopped hoping you'd say it.&lt;br /&gt;It hurts me to say it.&lt;br /&gt;It hurts me to say.&lt;br /&gt;It hurts me.&lt;br /&gt;It hurts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Night fades.&lt;br /&gt;Night fades away.&lt;br /&gt;Night fades away, but memories still stay.&lt;br /&gt;We used to be there for us.&lt;br /&gt;We used to be there.&lt;br /&gt;We used to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.: A little idea implemented in 5-7 mins. Playing with sentence lengths and meanings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-7028225659986654938?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/7028225659986654938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=7028225659986654938' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7028225659986654938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7028225659986654938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/09/you-me-us.html' title='You. Me. We used to be.'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-5882708478246791324</id><published>2010-08-31T00:13:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-08-31T00:14:50.493+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Choices</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It took me a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to me in an instant while I was chained to a wall and being tortured. I realized, somehow, through the screaming in my mind, that even in that shackled, bloody helplessness, I was still free: free to hate the men who were torturing me, or to forgive them. It does not sound like much, I know. But in the flinch and bite of the chain, when it’s all you’ve got, that freedom is a universe of possibility. And the choice you make, between hating and forgiving, can become the story of your life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;- Shantaram&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-5882708478246791324?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/5882708478246791324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=5882708478246791324' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5882708478246791324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5882708478246791324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/08/choices.html' title='Choices'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-1392561638004981126</id><published>2010-08-27T09:59:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2010-08-27T10:07:00.898+05:30</updated><title type='text'>If I could script a day in my life</title><content type='html'>oh what I wouldn't give away to have you come back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing else.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-1392561638004981126?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1392561638004981126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1392561638004981126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/08/if-i-could-script-day-in-my-life.html' title='If I could script a day in my life'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-2150357488800932657</id><published>2010-08-26T23:45:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-09-26T16:08:37.079+05:30</updated><title type='text'>May be. May be not.</title><content type='html'>Senior analyst at 23... Probably the youngest sr. analyst in the company. I used to think of it as an achievement. Now am not so sure. I should have taken my time in growing up. Do an mba may b. Why grow up so fast? Is it a curse? Maybe. Maybe not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-2150357488800932657?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/2150357488800932657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=2150357488800932657' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/2150357488800932657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/2150357488800932657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/08/may-be-may-be-not.html' title='May be. May be not.'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-3866109624369362472</id><published>2010-08-22T00:30:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-08-23T00:35:49.778+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sketches'/><title type='text'>Winner</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The thought was born from a conversation, not out of vanity&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/TGMPKiKdn9I/AAAAAAAABdk/V555cpxBcSE/s1600/moto_2236-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 301px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/TGMPKiKdn9I/AAAAAAAABdk/V555cpxBcSE/s400/moto_2236-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504259843220676562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;When you look at me,&lt;br /&gt;why do you only see the crown?&lt;br /&gt;and not the sweat and blood&lt;br /&gt;in which my soul drowns?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see the accolades&lt;br /&gt;and say a winner was born overnight&lt;br /&gt;you overlook the fears and desires&lt;br /&gt;that try to hold me tight....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, opportunities have closed doors on me&lt;br /&gt;and I have been on the edge and back...&lt;br /&gt;but all that disappeared in the dust behind me&lt;br /&gt;as I have neared the end of the track.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-3866109624369362472?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/3866109624369362472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=3866109624369362472' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3866109624369362472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3866109624369362472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/08/winner.html' title='Winner'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/TGMPKiKdn9I/AAAAAAAABdk/V555cpxBcSE/s72-c/moto_2236-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-6481574972783306570</id><published>2010-08-22T00:26:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-08-23T01:52:17.972+05:30</updated><title type='text'>One day I'll live in a home like this.</title><content type='html'>Ever since I started working in Gurgaon, this is the one &lt;strike&gt;house&lt;/strike&gt; home, that would always catch my attention when my cab crossed it. It was a love at first sight :). I always thought one day I'll click pictures and keep them as reference for the future. But, well, never got a chance to get off the cab, until......... today :) :) :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing I like about this place is its naturalness. Its not very grand. No huge balconies, no big iron gates, no overuse of shape. It's cozy, it's artistic. It's well-thought. It's romantic :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/THF65C2q8YI/AAAAAAAABeU/D6AS_jXmAW0/s1600/moto_2335.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/THF65C2q8YI/AAAAAAAABeU/D6AS_jXmAW0/s400/moto_2335.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508318939688137090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/THF64eE8hlI/AAAAAAAABeM/ZcP8RnM83Ak/s1600/moto_2334.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/THF64eE8hlI/AAAAAAAABeM/ZcP8RnM83Ak/s400/moto_2334.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508318929815897682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/THF63nNN0vI/AAAAAAAABeE/l6GO549hupo/s1600/moto_2329.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/THF63nNN0vI/AAAAAAAABeE/l6GO549hupo/s400/moto_2329.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508318915086635762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/THF63OPQSiI/AAAAAAAABd8/ErsqJRGhifo/s1600/moto_2328-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 263px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/THF63OPQSiI/AAAAAAAABd8/ErsqJRGhifo/s400/moto_2328-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508318908384299554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/THF62aBv10I/AAAAAAAABd0/amev5GRyYUY/s1600/moto_2326.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/THF62aBv10I/AAAAAAAABd0/amev5GRyYUY/s400/moto_2326.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508318894369003330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/THF6J_A-FxI/AAAAAAAABds/aSJP-otkShE/s1600/moto_2337.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/THF6J_A-FxI/AAAAAAAABds/aSJP-otkShE/s400/moto_2337.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508318131203741458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I talked to the owner and he let me in and check out the interiors too. You wouldn't believe me when I say, that it looked exactly the way I had always imagined it to be. It had skylights, it had a small drawing room that opened in to the lawn, it had a dining table right in front of a kitchen, a double story gallery on the inside. It was like this little haven, every nook and corner of which said: 'the people who live here have been in love with life and its beauty :)'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked him who the architect was and if I could get his contact. He said, he found about him just the way I did, by asking a home-owner who designed theirs. That is it. That is how an artist should be recognised - through his work :) And this artist had said too much through his work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The place is dreamy. Comfortable. The kind you' enjoy each day of the year. It looks like a result of hardwork, lot of thought and tons of love packed in 360 sq. ft.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And like the owner rightfully said: '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This kind of home cannot be bought, it can only be made.&lt;/span&gt;'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-6481574972783306570?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/6481574972783306570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=6481574972783306570' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/6481574972783306570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/6481574972783306570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/08/one-day-ill-live-in-home-like-this.html' title='One day I&apos;ll live in a home like this.'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/THF65C2q8YI/AAAAAAAABeU/D6AS_jXmAW0/s72-c/moto_2335.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-183261499665014249</id><published>2010-07-27T21:35:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-07-27T21:51:01.180+05:30</updated><title type='text'>If I were</title><content type='html'>Felt like posting something: here's a tag I saw at J’s&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a month, I’d be September (I love the near end of rains and the beginning of winters)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a day of the week, I’d be Saturday baby!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a time of day, I’d be 6 pm – time to begin enjoyment (go out, walk, talk ;))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a season, I’d be the monsoon. (The Wait. The Longing. The Arrival. The Smiles. The Fun.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a planet, I’d be Saturn (It has a different ring to it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a sea animal, I’d be an electric eel :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a direction, I’d be North-West. (That’s where the wind lives)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a piece of furniture, I’d be a massage chair. Lol. (Comforting ;) )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a liquid, I’d be honey ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a tool, I’d be a paint brush.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were an element, I’d be Sodium (Na = my initials )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a gemstone, I’d be a painite (It’s rare)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a musical instrument, I’d be a Violin (Difficult but worth the effort ;) )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a color, i’d be green!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were an emotion, I’d be surprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a fruit, I’d be an orange.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a sound, I’d be the sound of rain falling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a car, I’d be a RR Phantom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were food, I’d be HCF.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a taste, I’d be sour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were a bird, I’d be a Weaver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if I were you, I’d leave a comment!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-183261499665014249?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/183261499665014249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=183261499665014249' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/183261499665014249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/183261499665014249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/07/felt-like-posting-something-heres-tag-i.html' title='If I were'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-5649487209996098982</id><published>2010-07-20T00:10:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2010-07-20T01:28:06.983+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Q: Sup? A. This is:</title><content type='html'>I read some of my old posts. And I know there is a huge difference in the way I right. Khair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is strange how you receive hypocrisy from one person and you feel the entire world is a hypocrite. Do you feel the same when you receive love from someone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loner-NotSoLoner-Loner - Uh oh! Off late either I have been really busy or I have been very bored alone. I miss you KV. The remaning janta in Delhi is no good *sniff*. Nobody wants to watch Inception with me :( other college friends. Well they are in their MBA and MCA colleges. I don't relate to them when they sulk about professors and colleges. They don't relate to me when I sulk about EVS transport or working hours. I don't feel lke calling any of them. They are all speaking french. I wish I knew french. I wish I could go to a PG college. Khair.&lt;br /&gt;[hmm... I never thought I'd say that about college friends. Workoholic in the making.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am one of those crazy control freaks. Lol. Erm. maybe not crazy but yeah perfectionist you can call me. I am finding it really difficult to let go my work. I feel the new people won't do as much justice to it as I would. But i gotta let them be. Somebody had let me be too. Or may be its the old case of change again. If I let go of analystgiri I have to take up different responsibilities - get out of a comfort zone. duh! I waited for this so long. And I feel am skeptical about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best thig about a writer's club meet is that people are having fun discussing ideas and thoughts without liqour and smoke. That's my kinda fun. Hate the office parties. Simply hate them. Moreover good friends have left EVS and the remaning ..well.. all the more reasons not to go there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Facebook is becoming the showcase of people's lives. Including mine. So I agree facebook is the only remaning link between me and my college friends. But itnaaaa?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watched Hum Aapke hai Kaun and DDLJ recently. Even though overacting was clearly visible... Still love the magnificence of the sets that actually looked like sets. Simplicity of these movies and the songs.. *sigh* Love the mandolins :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am *trying* to read Atlus Shrugged. [stop rolling eyes]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am listening to Naav from Udaan. Kya gana hai!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Building a rapport with new juniors is.. umm... is difficult. I want them to have fun and make the most of the initial days. I like joking with them. But I want them to take me seriously too. I dont want run after them like warden but I want to motivate/inspire them to work just the same. Relationship building is definitely an 'area of development' for me. Why doesn't life come with a 'How-to-use' guide?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there is so much more... till the next time. gnyt!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-5649487209996098982?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/5649487209996098982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=5649487209996098982' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5649487209996098982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5649487209996098982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/07/there-is-just-so-much-to-say.html' title='Q: Sup? A. This is:'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-1773172502999910139</id><published>2010-07-05T00:31:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2010-07-05T01:39:27.255+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Ryting</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So you turn up at a writer's meet, unprepared: not a pen, not a paper,  not a thought...you didn't expect yourself to go. There, the odd group comprises of people almost your age  presenting their works with such ardour.. some of them have even books published...you feel stupid for having  brought nothing, then the beloved vodafone (and its dog-like network)  totally fails you.. and u feel even more stupid, huh! what were you thinking?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;now you knw that they'll know you are such a show off, trying to read your blog on your cellphone..huh who does that??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Well then a friend offers help, Google bothers to care and you find your blog on its cache... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;u didn't expect that either. No one visits your blog, you Know that. You stopped writing a while back and all you publish now is what &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;u write in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ur office cab. So why is your blog cached anyway?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So you select one of your hindi poems. One of your works where &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;u put in Some thought atleast. Slightly nervous but sure. You read it out loud...and look up out of the corner of your eye. Oh please I hope it wasn't that bad. And surprise! People are clapping! Can you believe it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And then you realize, its Barista once again. Apparently, lately all good things have happened to you in a Barista. Then you also realize what a gathering - a juniour from college, a school friend and a blogger friend. World shrinking? And at different times during the event each of them tells you to write. Signs? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that is the story behind me updating my blog with nothing but a line (or a few):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now remember who I was&lt;br /&gt;maverick, crazy and lost&lt;br /&gt;I used to spin my world with words&lt;br /&gt;and thoughts flew everywhere like birds&lt;br /&gt;yes - I am going back to following my heart&lt;br /&gt;and thankfully I know where to start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.: Might not mean much to the reader (if there are any), but I have integrated my past with my present. The old blog's post are now published on this blog too. 82 posts. 821 comments. It was a good part of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome me back ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-1773172502999910139?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/1773172502999910139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=1773172502999910139' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1773172502999910139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1773172502999910139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/07/ryting.html' title='Ryting'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-4966975417305195754</id><published>2010-06-20T21:22:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-09-19T15:08:38.252+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The road is empty&lt;br /&gt;the heart has a void&lt;br /&gt;eyes have tears&lt;br /&gt;joy devoid&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anxious mornings&lt;br /&gt;restless nights&lt;br /&gt;its getting tougher&lt;br /&gt;for her to hold on tight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;confused thoughts&lt;br /&gt;lack of decisions&lt;br /&gt;er........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to say&lt;br /&gt;that you are missed&lt;br /&gt;every second of the day&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-4966975417305195754?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/4966975417305195754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=4966975417305195754' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/4966975417305195754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/4966975417305195754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-want-to-say-that-you-are-missed-every.html' title=''/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-7363553411999894054</id><published>2010-06-19T12:55:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-19T13:06:45.651+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A Beautiful Poem...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Koi deewana kehta hai&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;koi paagal samajhta hai&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;magar dharti ki bechaini&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ko bas badal samajhta hai&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;main tujhse dur kaisa hoon&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;tu mujhse door kaisi hai&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yeh tera dil samajhta hai, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ya mera dil samajhta hai&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ki mohabbat ek ehsaanson ki&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ek paawan si kahani hai&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;kabhi kabira deewana tha, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;kabhi meera deewani hai&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yahan sab log kehte hai, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;meri aankhon main aasun hai&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;jo tu samjhe toh moti hai, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;na samjhe toh paani hai...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;samander peer ka aander hai, lekin ro nahi sakta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ye aansu pyar ka moti hai, isko kho nahi sakta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;meri chahat ko dulhan tu bana lena magar sun le&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;jo mera ho nahi paya wo tera ho nahi sakta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bhavar koi kumudani par machal baitha to hungama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hamare dil mein koi khawab pal baitha to hungama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;aabhi tak doob kar sunte the sab kissa mohhabat ka&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;mein kisse ko hakikat mein badal baitha to hungama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;P.S.: Not original.. read on the internet...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&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/3399631395932953597-7363553411999894054?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/7363553411999894054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=7363553411999894054' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7363553411999894054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7363553411999894054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/06/beautiful-poem.html' title='A Beautiful Poem...'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-227818913876468949</id><published>2010-06-04T14:39:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-09-19T15:11:19.290+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><title type='text'>Let Go</title><content type='html'>Even though you are the one I believe&lt;br /&gt;can bring me back&lt;br /&gt;from the darkness where I hide&lt;br /&gt;If you want... I'll let you go&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I never had you in the first place&lt;br /&gt;but you had me completely...&lt;br /&gt;doing nothing yet making me smile&lt;br /&gt;as if am on the brink of insanity&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wind beneath my wings&lt;br /&gt;is flirting with a new shore&lt;br /&gt;but I just gotta drift away&lt;br /&gt;a distortioned reality ... but love this is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am sure&lt;br /&gt;letting go would not be easy&lt;br /&gt;but to see you smile and wave at me&lt;br /&gt;would be a relief&lt;br /&gt;to know atleast you are happy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So good luck my love&lt;br /&gt;may today be the dawn of all your dreams&lt;br /&gt;as you turn them in to reality..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though, as I let you go...&lt;br /&gt;a strong part of me leaves today&lt;br /&gt;but I think I'll go look for some strength&lt;br /&gt;until then I'll live with you in my mind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope our paths cross one last time&lt;br /&gt;and then may they never separate&lt;br /&gt;meanwhile, a little pain is fine&lt;br /&gt;as for you, eternal happiness awaits...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-227818913876468949?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/227818913876468949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=227818913876468949' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/227818913876468949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/227818913876468949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/05/let-go.html' title='Let Go'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-7092639469824950593</id><published>2010-05-27T01:30:00.007+05:30</published><updated>2010-05-27T01:56:10.349+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Straightening out</title><content type='html'>I like to be honest about my feelings. It makes people think I am immature or weak. But I am not. I want them to know what I feel for them. They'll not be around for long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not afraid of being honest about my feelings. Even though it puts me in trouble so many times. I think I have been honest with all my closest people. And when I feel they don't appreciate all the honesty, I mute, I drift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometime back I started hiding my feelings. It is the 'mature' way of doing things you see. I was also afraid of getting hurt. I chose slow death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was very killing. I stopped. I restarted being honest. Restarted hating hypocrisy. You can again look through me. And if I can't, I'll not look through you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wont force myself to be what I am not. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I am breaking my habit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-7092639469824950593?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/7092639469824950593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=7092639469824950593' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7092639469824950593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7092639469824950593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/05/straightening-out.html' title='Straightening out'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-3174336931409260183</id><published>2010-05-26T22:46:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-09-19T15:11:19.291+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><title type='text'>You know what?</title><content type='html'>Accuse me&lt;br /&gt;Forgive me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;forget me&lt;br /&gt;remember me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lose me&lt;br /&gt;love me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hate me&lt;br /&gt;ignore me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;try me&lt;br /&gt;test me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hold me&lt;br /&gt;let go of me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;berate me&lt;br /&gt;underestimate me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you know what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I, I, oh, I'm still alive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-3174336931409260183?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/3174336931409260183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=3174336931409260183' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3174336931409260183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3174336931409260183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/05/you-know-what.html' title='You know what?'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-8488463215071930796</id><published>2010-04-17T23:02:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-04-17T23:03:54.082+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Zindagi hai Chhoti, har pal main khush raho!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Office me khush raho, ghar mein khush raho...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Aaj paneer nahi hai, dal mein hi khush raho...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Aaj gym jane ka samay nahi, do kadam chal ke hi khush raho...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Aaj Dosto ka sath nahi, TV dekh ke hi khush raho...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ghar ja nahi sakte to phone kar ke hi khush raho...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Aaj koi naraaz hai, uske iss andaz mein bhi khush raho...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jise dekh nahi sakte uski awaz mein hi khush raho...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jise paa nahi sakte uski yaad mein hi khush raho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Laptop na mila to kya, Desktop mein hi khush raho...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bita hua kal ja chuka hai, usse meethi yaadein hai, unme hi khush raho...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;aane wale pal ka pata nahi... sapno mein hi khush raho...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Haste haste ye pal bitaenge, aaj mein hi khush raho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Zindagi hai choti, har pal mein khush raho&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(From an email forward)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-8488463215071930796?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/8488463215071930796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=8488463215071930796' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8488463215071930796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8488463215071930796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/04/zindagi-hai-chhoti-har-pal-main-khush.html' title='Zindagi hai Chhoti, har pal main khush raho!'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-2324087674650004578</id><published>2010-04-17T02:06:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-04-17T02:11:54.170+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><title type='text'>I Like</title><content type='html'>the loneliness in the crowd,&lt;br /&gt;the silence inside when I am loud&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the street that knows me&lt;br /&gt;the rain that soaks me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the first bite of chocolate&lt;br /&gt;and the last bite of the lunch ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the warmth of your hand&lt;br /&gt;when its cold outside&lt;br /&gt;the cool of your head&lt;br /&gt;when mine is heated inside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the rush of getting late&lt;br /&gt;and then reaching on time&lt;br /&gt;chhole kulche for lunch in an auto:)&lt;br /&gt;your song's last line&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;giving Christina, Avril and Amy&lt;br /&gt;the best competition by far&lt;br /&gt;by singing at the top of my voice&lt;br /&gt;in my gulabo..er.. car&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;walking down the street&lt;br /&gt;with a cellphone in my hand&lt;br /&gt;the floating feeling you get&lt;br /&gt;when the plane is about to land&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;shopping for unusual things&lt;br /&gt;giving surprises to my friends&lt;br /&gt;cracking PJs in a group chat&lt;br /&gt;winter and the chills it sends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;standing alone on the terrace&lt;br /&gt;with my pen and a piece of paper&lt;br /&gt;my 50-shade box of pastels&lt;br /&gt;drawing some beautiful eyes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the raindrops on my window&lt;br /&gt;the sun rising far away&lt;br /&gt;and the light breeze that&lt;br /&gt;takes my worries away&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-2324087674650004578?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/2324087674650004578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=2324087674650004578' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/2324087674650004578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/2324087674650004578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-like.html' title='I Like'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-4917965752478568415</id><published>2010-04-02T23:44:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-04-10T22:47:43.725+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Penseive - Part II</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;A random collection of things I have been thinking... for long.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has it ever happened to you when you are really focusing on the computer screen that your point of focus shifts to a couple of inches in front of it and some random scene from your life plays in front of you. Something you have been avoiding. Something you really want. Something you regret, Something you cherish. Dazed is the word I guess. (and that's the time I need another cup of tea.)&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just when you thought you have the most troubled existence of all the people you know. Someone tells you what happened to them and you realize you are way better than them. Sadness is relative I guess. Happiness is absolute.&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just when you thought this is  the worst possible day of the world, you receive a card from a beloved teacher and you realize that someone up above is...no... not looking after you...STARING after you..That's a miracle.&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loo..oong ago when I had seen the movie &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bruce Almighty&lt;/span&gt; for the first time, this is the scene that has always remain etched in my mind. I like this part so much I have it recorded on my computer. This is the best scene from the best movie I ever saw. Following is the transcript:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/SYSR4M_GP2I/AAAAAAAAAcI/XA_wHxqfz4Q/s1600-h/003BAL_Morgan_Freeman_012.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/SYSR4M_GP2I/AAAAAAAAAcI/XA_wHxqfz4Q/s400/003BAL_Morgan_Freeman_012.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297519456439123810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(God (Morgan Freeman) has granted Bruce (Jim Carrey) all his powers and went on a vacation. Bruce gets tons and tons of prayers everyday. He has said yes to everyone. Result ? Utter chaos alll around. Now he has come to meet God to seek help. They both have just finished mopping the floor.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bruce : (looks around) Its good. Its GOOOD.&lt;br /&gt;God : Its a wonderful thing. No matter how filthy something gets, you can always clean it right up.&lt;br /&gt;Bruce : But they are so many.. I just gave them all they want.&lt;br /&gt;God : Yeah.. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;But since when does anyone have a clue of what they want?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bruce :(Pauses) So what do I do?&lt;br /&gt;God: Parting your soup isn't a miracle Bruce, its a magic trick. A single mom shuffles two jobs who still finds time to take her kid to a soccer practice, thats a miracle. A teenager says no to drugs and yes to education, thats a miracle.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;People want me to do everything for them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; What they don't realize is.. they have the power.&lt;/span&gt; You want to see a miracle son? Be the miracle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(A whilte light lights up in the ceiling. God starts to climb up the ladder.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bruce : Wait! Are you leaving?&lt;br /&gt;God : Yeah.. I think you can handle things now.&lt;br /&gt;Bruce : But what if I need you, what if I've questions?&lt;br /&gt;God : (laughs) Thats the problem Bruce, thats everybody's problem. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You keep looking up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What doesn't kill you, will make you stronger.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is possible to cry without being heard, without being seen, without being felt and without being missed.&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoever said that the first impression was the last impression never really looked again. ;) People are so much more beautiful on the inside than what they show.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-4917965752478568415?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/4917965752478568415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=4917965752478568415' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/4917965752478568415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/4917965752478568415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/04/penceive-part-ii.html' title='Penseive - Part II'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/SYSR4M_GP2I/AAAAAAAAAcI/XA_wHxqfz4Q/s72-c/003BAL_Morgan_Freeman_012.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-675749036275435268</id><published>2010-04-02T23:30:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-04-02T23:40:10.696+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Aadhi si baat...</title><content type='html'>" Achha suno, ismain battery kam hai. Toh main rakhta hoon."&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;"Haan aaj raat ko kaam karte karte do baj jayenge...hmm.. chalo main rakhta hoon"&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;"ar...arey.. acha sunao..."&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;"acha chalo gudnyt"&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;"dil se gud night... ab hume toh itna hi aata hai, tum saamne hoti toh baat aur thi...&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;"emmm.. nahin"&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;"arey mujhe nahin aata"&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;"milke bataunga.. gud nyt"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-675749036275435268?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/675749036275435268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=675749036275435268' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/675749036275435268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/675749036275435268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2009/12/low-battery.html' title='Aadhi si baat...'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-5887509725342046984</id><published>2010-03-23T23:15:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-03-24T00:25:08.384+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Yeh jo mohobbat hai...</title><content type='html'>Yeah this sure is a weird way to start but what the heck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the relationships that I had the opportunity to closely observe, saw weird turns this year, finally ending in the usual we-are-just-friends story. Hmm. Love. That's love? You don't understand what the other said for 3 weeks and you give up? Your mother didn't understand what you said for the first 2 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe your love is different from my mine. May be I am too unpractical, too idealistic or too optimistic. But it has sailed me through. My love? My love is freedom that binds two hearts together. You don't have to tolerate, compromise or even try. Love.. well I think it just makes one plus one, one. It's like that comfortable feeling you get when you face the world, that if you fall, you'll fall in somebody's arms. ... and words..well yes a chatterbox like myself agrees.. love doesn't need words. It's when the guy is too shy to say it and looks away. It's when the friend lectures and scolds and then winks that says it all. It's when you look into her eyes and see yourself. Love doesn't need that person to be around you all the time, because its as if they never left. The thoughts, the magic still linger...&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My love is not judgmental. It doesn't expect anyone to change, because they are like two piece of a puzzle that fit so well together forming their own design :) You think that the other is too rude/dominant? Bhai maal pasand karne se pehle sochna tha!!!... you liked it then, h/she didn't change..u did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pyar rahe unke liye, jo dhoondhe woh unko mile :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May love be meant for those... who have looked for it. Amen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.: Love is divine. Pyar divya hai :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-5887509725342046984?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/5887509725342046984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=5887509725342046984' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5887509725342046984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5887509725342046984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/01/yeh-jo-mohobbat-hai.html' title='Yeh jo mohobbat hai...'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-9129610384656644988</id><published>2010-03-07T21:20:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2010-03-07T23:24:20.490+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The thing I have realized...</title><content type='html'>... is that if there is even one person who is ready to help you improve yourself for no ulterior motive of his/her own... then consider yourself lucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After graduation when I stepped in to a world outside my own, I was amazed by its ways. And the most drastic difference I noticed was that people don't care. They simply don't care about what is happening to you, what troubles you are facing and what you can do to get over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are no guiding signs. No posts. Nobody to give directions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt as if I was blindfolded and left in the unknown, to experience and to feel the world on my own. And I did. And I fell. A couple of times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But gradually you find your way around. And you realize, people won't help you get up. Rather, you need to open you eyes. Wide. And observe them. Observe what they do. Watch and learn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then if you are lucky, you will find those one or two people who are willing to answer your silly questions.  Who are willing to tell you what you said wrong and how you could have improved it. While the Others - they won't react as much as a twitch and leave you wondering if you were right or wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember the days when we used to sing "Never care for what they say.".. well it turns out they don't say anything. "They" have their families and their jobs to worry about. WHY in the world will they give you enough importance to SAY anything about you. (Hillarious piece of thought but yes it crossed my mind.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, getting back to the point. If anyone points out a couple of ways to do it better. Listen. Learn. And feel lucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel blessed... you have found what very less people find, you have found HELP in materializing an opportunity to grow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the best!&lt;br /&gt;-------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BTW: As a corollary to the above epiphany: Learn to give genuine help. It could be a simple word of advice - even if unwarranted. It could be a praise. It could be a smile or may be a nod. it could be anything. Help people correct themselves. BUT. But when you point out an error always suggest a solution to correct it.&lt;br /&gt;-------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Be right back!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-9129610384656644988?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/9129610384656644988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=9129610384656644988' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/9129610384656644988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/9129610384656644988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/03/thing-i-have-realized.html' title='The thing I have realized...'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-1588896122639873507</id><published>2010-02-25T20:01:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2010-09-19T15:11:19.291+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><title type='text'>A Quantum of Solace</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;White mixed into gray&lt;br /&gt;and the gray turned black&lt;br /&gt;the wind kept moving on&lt;br /&gt;without looking back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there was a rush...&lt;br /&gt;a rush to get somewhere&lt;br /&gt;no idea where it was...&lt;br /&gt;would have known if she had been there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what was it that she was looking for?&lt;br /&gt;what was it that she would find?&lt;br /&gt;did she even know what she wanted..&lt;br /&gt;food, shelter, answers, or a peaceful mind?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why stopping was not an option?&lt;br /&gt;Why did she have to always roam?&lt;br /&gt;why she couldn't just stay at one place?&lt;br /&gt;and have a heart to call hers and a place to call home?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was she still looking at others?&lt;br /&gt;why is she still wondering what's wrong?&lt;br /&gt;why can't she care enough to find out?&lt;br /&gt;and What the hell is taking so long?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And she wandered some more&lt;br /&gt;and  she flew by the meadows&lt;br /&gt;and blew besides an old house&lt;br /&gt;she rubbed the misty windows&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and what she saw&lt;br /&gt;caught her attention&lt;br /&gt;because she had never&lt;br /&gt;seen her reflection&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then it dawned upon&lt;br /&gt;as she finally met the one&lt;br /&gt;that if she was the question,&lt;br /&gt;then she was also the solution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that while she wandered in search of something&lt;br /&gt;that 'something' she carried all along&lt;br /&gt;and that's why all her searches&lt;br /&gt;ended with everything wrong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the 'something' she looked for everywhere&lt;br /&gt;was to be found only in this place&lt;br /&gt;her heart had always carried&lt;br /&gt;her quantum of solace....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-1588896122639873507?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/1588896122639873507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=1588896122639873507' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1588896122639873507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1588896122639873507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/02/quantum-of-solace.html' title='A Quantum of Solace'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-5538075179632955221</id><published>2010-02-10T19:42:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2010-02-10T20:18:34.952+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Another turning point: Good Byes and a New Phase</title><content type='html'>Close to one year ago I had posted &lt;a href="http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2009/04/sandwich.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;. I got to know yesterday that R is leaving the company nd yesterday was her last day as well...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what I'll miss the most - R or the freedom R used to give me or the feedback that she used to give me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a long time you know - 6 months out of an year - I was interacting only with her and N about work and has she helped me or what. and she always understood. I mean there were just so many things that were not needed to be said, but were plainly understood. And now I'll have to start right at the bottom with other peers/seniours. And she'd always let me know, just by slightest of the hints, where I needed to improve. And now I have to figure it out myself. :|&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said she believed in me and she actually did. The freedom I felt in her presence was immense, and together we would turn into an idea factory. And the client feedback used to be legen - wait for it - dary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good Bye R, would really miss you. And there is only one promise to keep: would never forget what you gave me and will pass it on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The attachment though, I feel, at one plane or the other, was also because of the comfort zone. And now I have to step out of it. I mean we weren't going to stay together forever. She has moved on for her own good. And now I have to push myself outside of that mindframe of being understood all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is said that we grow up the most when we are in the valley. So more challenges ahead. I gotta cope up with seniors who are more critical than her, people who may be less cooperative. Or may be, I should just give up my opinions of others and give them a fair chance to help/influence me...hmm.. I think I really need to make a fresh start. But I am armed with the knowledge R passed me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Time grabs you by the wrist;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; directs you where to go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So make the best of this test&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; and don't ask why.&lt;br /&gt;It's not a question&lt;br /&gt;but a lesson learned in time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the time has come that I should finally accept that people will never stay with you forever...  It's only what you learnt from them and their memories that you can keep.. rest is all momentary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So make the best of what/who you have right now. Because, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;kal ho na ho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's something unpredictable, but in the end that's right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life... as they say...  is full of surprises. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&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/3399631395932953597-5538075179632955221?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/5538075179632955221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=5538075179632955221' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5538075179632955221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5538075179632955221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/02/another-turning-point-good-byes-and-new.html' title='Another turning point: Good Byes and a New Phase'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-2034769124530629442</id><published>2010-01-25T21:15:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-01-25T21:26:00.361+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Cranky, Insecure and Vulnerable</title><content type='html'>I promised that this will be the last time I'll let anyone hurt me. That is it. I'll build an even stronger facade. Won't let anyone in. But somehow or the other, there is always someone who finds a weakness somewhere , a secret passage in and blasts me down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/S12-7RsWf3I/AAAAAAAAA84/Q71vcDwASVE/s1600-h/farawaybyanarashake4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/S12-7RsWf3I/AAAAAAAAA84/Q71vcDwASVE/s400/farawaybyanarashake4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430706651249672050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i fiercer than ever, inhuman than ever, make bloated promises never to forget the scar, yet feel empty, because I said the same last time too and failed to keep it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I have to fail at everything?? Can't I even pass at being nothing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Piece by piece..something is dying inside.&lt;/span&gt; And I hate it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-2034769124530629442?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/2034769124530629442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=2034769124530629442' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/2034769124530629442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/2034769124530629442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/01/cranky-insecure-and-vulnerable.html' title='Cranky, Insecure and Vulnerable'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/S12-7RsWf3I/AAAAAAAAA84/Q71vcDwASVE/s72-c/farawaybyanarashake4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-5392591965502638705</id><published>2010-01-24T01:27:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-01-24T02:00:05.200+05:30</updated><title type='text'>antiSocial - Social - antiSocial - Social - uh oh!</title><content type='html'>so it happened once again... second time in a month... that's like scary... fighting with my three lifelines at one go in one day for no major reasons.. feel unhappy about absolutely minor unimportant things - family friends and work - arguments everywhere... feeling frustu... irritated.. and this aint PMS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problems: I need a lifestyle change. I absolutely hv to give up the mechanical office-home/home-office routine and bring in something that would break the monotony.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Long time haven't read a book. and i have more than a couple of them at hand..&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;winner stands alone&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;have a little faith&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;fountainhead&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;tara road&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;past is another country&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;the secret&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;thank u jeeves&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;blink evening news&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;zahir&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;jeffry archr double novel&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;the guitar classes... been over a month since i fixed it.. i think i shud just stop being lazy and go once.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;yes it irritates me when people act uber formal. avoid them! &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;dont call them if you know they wont respond... its only frustrating...avoid these too!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;they are too busy for ur sunday plan... frustrating isn't it.. hw many plans u make and how many excuses they generate to fail them.. stop making them.. avoid it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;why hav u started expecting out of people?? remember urself.. u r frnds wid ppl bcz u want to be.. and nw if u dnt want then dnt be.. make ur life easier.. pick those who you want, those who want you and just sieve out all the rest...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;music.. yeah i think i need to find some new songs... vh1 here i come :)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;lone trips around delhi.. perfect.. god have i missed myself.. nothing like shopping and exploring in delhi.. minus the drama minus the waiting, minus the phones.. yeah..!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;evening walks.. that wud reallly get me cracking ..&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;movies... of course i am yet to see so many of them.. yo great time pass too..&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;exercise.. of course.. meditation,, i totally forgot abt it...suryanamaskars would be wonderful.. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;colours.. its been a while since i painted.. and sketches.. lord hw cud i hv frgotten it...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;photos and blogging.. ok not much interest left in revealing inner secrets but well well... i now have a nearly good camera.. photography starts!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;god why did i even stop doing any of these??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you may roam around the world looking for happiness.. you'll always reaturn home to find it :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to feel part of anything.. u first need to be a part of urself :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-5392591965502638705?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/5392591965502638705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=5392591965502638705' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5392591965502638705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5392591965502638705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2010/01/antisocial-social-antisocial-social-uh.html' title='antiSocial - Social - antiSocial - Social - uh oh!'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-5713564062427159999</id><published>2009-12-01T22:35:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-01T22:44:01.361+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Posts, Drafts, Gyan, etc.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Posts:&lt;/span&gt;I just published 4 posts before this one. Purely on a whim. They were all written at different times in different frames of mind by a different me. Only one thing in common: they all are sadly about sadness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Drafts: &lt;/span&gt;And plan to publish all my drafts this month.. so expect about 8 more posts this month. Don't wanna carry anything in the new year. 2009 - I hope I never see you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Gyan:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;1. To get different results, you need to do different things.&lt;br /&gt;2. Humara darr humaari takat ban sakta hai, agar hum usse aanken na churaye toh. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Source: NDTV)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Etc.:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(From a poem I wrote for a friend long ago)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;When the good times came,&lt;br /&gt;they didn't last,&lt;br /&gt;The bad ones&lt;br /&gt;didn't either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When success came,&lt;br /&gt;it didn't stay,&lt;br /&gt;The failures&lt;br /&gt;didn't either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were all blown away&lt;br /&gt;with time's swift flow,&lt;br /&gt;and we sailed&lt;br /&gt;even farther...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://thisisindexed.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/card2298.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; height: 90%;" src="http://thisisindexed.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/card2298.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;Picture Courtesy: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://thisisindexed.com/"&gt;Indexed&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With love luck and a little doze of madness,&lt;br /&gt;the wanderer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-5713564062427159999?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/5713564062427159999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=5713564062427159999' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5713564062427159999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5713564062427159999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2009/11/posts-drafts-gyan-etc.html' title='Posts, Drafts, Gyan, etc.'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-5931880724264281388</id><published>2009-12-01T22:19:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-01T22:42:58.354+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><title type='text'>Life...</title><content type='html'>madness it is...&lt;br /&gt;to love what is wrong&lt;br /&gt;to hate what is right&lt;br /&gt;to say one thing&lt;br /&gt;hear the other&lt;br /&gt;and mean none of them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;joke it is&lt;br /&gt;and all I can do is laugh at myself&lt;br /&gt;at the sadistic pleasure people drive in my pain&lt;br /&gt;its good atleast your happy&lt;br /&gt;my blood will not go in vain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and I laugh&lt;br /&gt;I laugh at you yes you right there&lt;br /&gt;for believing you could even change things&lt;br /&gt;for even trying to budge out your thinking&lt;br /&gt;I hope life sucks for you!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.: Sorry for the cliched title.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-5931880724264281388?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/5931880724264281388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=5931880724264281388' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5931880724264281388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5931880724264281388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2009/12/life.html' title='Life...'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-6753914291234316925</id><published>2009-12-01T22:13:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-01T22:24:36.580+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><title type='text'>and then there is a tomorrow...</title><content type='html'>and one more sun sets&lt;br /&gt;putting another day between me and you&lt;br /&gt;pushed hard to reach the finishing line&lt;br /&gt;and then there is a tomorrow...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promised to grow up&lt;br /&gt;I promised to brave it&lt;br /&gt;was hardly able to get though today&lt;br /&gt;and then there is a tomorrow...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shouted and I screamed&lt;br /&gt;did you hear me somewhere?&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to black out crying&lt;br /&gt;but then there is a tomorrow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I'll give up&lt;br /&gt;I thought I'll give in&lt;br /&gt;Its easy to break up&lt;br /&gt;but then there is a tomorrow...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;am learning something new&lt;br /&gt;did you see me growing up a little more today&lt;br /&gt;am learning to fight&lt;br /&gt;'cause then there will be a tomorrow...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-6753914291234316925?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/6753914291234316925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=6753914291234316925' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/6753914291234316925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/6753914291234316925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2009/12/and-then-there-is-tomorrow.html' title='and then there is a tomorrow...'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-8677322043356908671</id><published>2009-12-01T21:11:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-01T22:24:51.862+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><title type='text'>Just another day...</title><content type='html'>when I chose to blame the world&lt;br /&gt;for the things I could correct&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when I let out my anger on myself&lt;br /&gt;by not working for what I want&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when I got frustrated&lt;br /&gt;over little things that don't really matter&lt;br /&gt;like the clutch wire of my car and vodafone customer care&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when I dreamt about running away, as fast as I can&lt;br /&gt;but I know escape is not an option&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when I could have been happy in someone else's happiness&lt;br /&gt;but I rather wanted to see everyone crying&lt;br /&gt;and was jealous of their laughter and wished they wouldn't laugh or even smile&lt;br /&gt;What was it they were happy about anyway?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;How can I blame you, when its me I can't forgive?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-8677322043356908671?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/8677322043356908671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=8677322043356908671' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8677322043356908671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/8677322043356908671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2009/12/just-another-day.html' title='Just another day...'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-4818845339317303039</id><published>2009-12-01T20:50:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-01T22:25:09.714+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><title type='text'>Abhi toh</title><content type='html'>abhi toh bahut ladhna tha tumse&lt;br /&gt;aur tum abhi se saath chhodh chale&lt;br /&gt;abhi toh kitne nakhre dikhaane the&lt;br /&gt;aur tum na jaane kahan kho gaye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ek mauka dete kuch karne ka&lt;br /&gt;sirf bana kar hi chhodh gaye&lt;br /&gt;abhi toh maafi maangni thi&lt;br /&gt;aur tum rooth kar hi chale gaye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;abhi toh galti karna seekha tha&lt;br /&gt;tum sahi kiye bina chale gaye&lt;br /&gt;abhi samajhna shuroo kiya tha&lt;br /&gt;aur tum uljha kar hi chhodh gaye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kachche se sapne dekhe the&lt;br /&gt;tum tufaano main chhodh gaye&lt;br /&gt;anjuli bhar aas toh thi&lt;br /&gt;tum seheraon main chhodh gaye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;haath thaamke chalna sikhaya&lt;br /&gt;aur zindagi ke dhakkon main chhodh gaye&lt;br /&gt;tumhaare haath se agle ghar jaana tha&lt;br /&gt;tum khud na jaane kahaan chale gaye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;jhooth se nafrat karna sikhaya&lt;br /&gt;aur kadhwi sachai peene ko chhodh gaye&lt;br /&gt;hasne ki bahut koshish karti hu&lt;br /&gt;par chaahat tum apne saath le gaye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dhoop main chhaon bane ab tak&lt;br /&gt;ab saari chamak leke kahin chale gaye...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-4818845339317303039?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/4818845339317303039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=4818845339317303039' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/4818845339317303039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/4818845339317303039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2009/12/abhi-toh.html' title='Abhi toh'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-1263440567167020015</id><published>2009-11-12T22:24:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-12T22:57:11.470+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Velvet</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/SvxFDcBJnnI/AAAAAAAAAug/XfuHmr1r3aA/s1600-h/pd_darkness_071029_ms.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/SvxFDcBJnnI/AAAAAAAAAug/XfuHmr1r3aA/s400/pd_darkness_071029_ms.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403269578300694130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;black and dark surround&lt;br /&gt;like am the only one around&lt;br /&gt;a little lost like always&lt;br /&gt;but today I wanna be found...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanna know&lt;br /&gt;where m gonna go&lt;br /&gt;disoriented as always&lt;br /&gt;an inner compass in tow...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I whisper in the night&lt;br /&gt;only darkness behind&lt;br /&gt;a little flicker in the distance&lt;br /&gt;or a fault in my sight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and silence dies midway&lt;br /&gt;like darkness by the day&lt;br /&gt;the velvet of indifference  surrounds&lt;br /&gt;and leads me far away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the velvet soothes me down&lt;br /&gt;and ignorance surrounds&lt;br /&gt;I close my eyes and sleep&lt;br /&gt;oblivious to whats going around&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and once again...&lt;br /&gt;black and dark surround&lt;br /&gt;making me feel am the only one around&lt;br /&gt;lost n sleepy again&lt;br /&gt;I wish I had been found...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-1263440567167020015?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/1263440567167020015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=1263440567167020015' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1263440567167020015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1263440567167020015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2009/11/velvet.html' title='Velvet'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/SvxFDcBJnnI/AAAAAAAAAug/XfuHmr1r3aA/s72-c/pd_darkness_071029_ms.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-5690516705992030762</id><published>2009-11-11T20:36:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-11T21:39:25.487+05:30</updated><title type='text'>It's a drain</title><content type='html'>In a recent conversation a friend once again asked, "Where have you been? and your blog-", "It's a drain, it's not a blog anymore," I cut in. Yes. This space is no longer my true reflection. It's just a drain for my thoughts, when they get murkier. Well, so be it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Sometimes I envy people who can 'be strong' and contain themselves.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-5690516705992030762?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/5690516705992030762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=5690516705992030762' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5690516705992030762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/5690516705992030762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2009/11/its-drain.html' title='It&apos;s a drain'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-1971482246352184325</id><published>2009-10-31T23:07:00.007+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-01T00:15:48.829+05:30</updated><title type='text'>No Strings Attached</title><content type='html'>I have decided to log off&lt;br /&gt;and shut down&lt;br /&gt;the careless person I used to be&lt;br /&gt;who'd open her heart to anybody&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough is enough&lt;br /&gt;we'll drift anyway&lt;br /&gt;so let's stand apart from the beginning&lt;br /&gt;and walk at a distance along the way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No strings attached is my new motto&lt;br /&gt;lets work, laugh, flirt and play&lt;br /&gt;but don't ask whats really on&lt;br /&gt;it makes it easier to get on with the day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't be nosy&lt;br /&gt;and I won't interfere&lt;br /&gt;and I won't blame you&lt;br /&gt;when you are not there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a friendship of convenience&lt;br /&gt;not like 'something has died inside my heart'&lt;br /&gt;Am whole and alive&lt;br /&gt;just trying to make a new start&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It will be painful though&lt;br /&gt;to shift towards the hypocrite side&lt;br /&gt;but now I see the truth&lt;br /&gt;and all the hurt it is able to hide&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Immature I was to share my feelings&lt;br /&gt;to be happy and sad infront of you&lt;br /&gt;and never really appreciated the bloody&lt;br /&gt;"mysteriousness" you carried in you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I am&lt;br /&gt;Agreeing with all of you finally&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Its stupid to be open&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;and trust people so easily."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I agree I was foolish in wasting&lt;br /&gt;my days, months and years&lt;br /&gt;'expecting' to open you up&lt;br /&gt;when every single time I only got some tears&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So say bbye; I know you'll not&lt;br /&gt;miss the older senseless me,&lt;br /&gt;and welcome the new and improved&lt;br /&gt;The Non-Demanding Me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So come, we'll be 'friends'&lt;br /&gt;who do not care as such&lt;br /&gt;but we'll ask each other 'wassup'&lt;br /&gt;and be settled with a 'nothing much'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then we'll get back to our lives&lt;br /&gt;and forget we cared if we must&lt;br /&gt;but the only problem is&lt;br /&gt;like an idiot....... I'll still miss 'us'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-1971482246352184325?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1971482246352184325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1971482246352184325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2009/10/no-strings-attached.html' title='No Strings Attached'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-3192264441247532673</id><published>2009-10-31T19:15:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-31T21:20:24.363+05:30</updated><title type='text'>erm..kaise kahu yeh raaz tumhe?</title><content type='html'>Have you felt that feeling.. of people moving away..one moment one day at a time. how slowly and suprisingly it happens. You start feeling comfortable with newer people and places, and awkward with the old. As if awkwardness and comfortability had just switched places.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You suddenly are at a loss of words with people you knew thoroughly. You had talked with them for hours at an end.. and suddenly you just don't know what to talk about. The 'bond' you share is now malnourished due to lack of similarity. You don't share the same song and stage and whenever you speak up you are always out of tune.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How I wish I could still understand them...and they could understand me. No matter how different we were becoming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was such a comfort to know them. and a comfort that they know you. you could open yourself up, give and get a truhful answer to the question 'how are you?'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's tough...&lt;br /&gt;... to watch people &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;grow&lt;/span&gt; away and not be able to do anything about it.&lt;br /&gt;... to try and figure out what's wrong now.&lt;br /&gt;... to understand your own self and how you behave/react/respond&lt;br /&gt;... to grow up&lt;br /&gt;... to accept responsibility&lt;br /&gt;... to accept reality&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;suddenly I am reminded of the lyrics from that Queen's song..'Too much love will kill you'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I feel like no-one ever told the truth to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;About growing up and what a struggle it would be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;In my tangled state of mind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I've been looking back to find&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Where I went wrong&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I'd stop dreaming, thinking... being.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-3192264441247532673?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/3192264441247532673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=3192264441247532673' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3192264441247532673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3192264441247532673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2009/10/ermkaise-kahu-yeh-raaz-tumhe.html' title='erm..kaise kahu yeh raaz tumhe?'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-3080516358684408116</id><published>2009-10-06T22:35:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-06T22:46:48.774+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Pensieve</title><content type='html'>a picture of my college trip&lt;br /&gt;my dark green framed black specs&lt;br /&gt;my dis appearing hairline&lt;br /&gt;a packet of gujrati shingdana&lt;br /&gt;a packet of 50 shades of oil pastels&lt;br /&gt;a 5 in 1 pirated dvd&lt;br /&gt;nicholas spark's at first sight&lt;br /&gt;a coffee break&lt;br /&gt;the elaichi tea&lt;br /&gt;the officer&lt;br /&gt;a pco&lt;br /&gt;oily hair&lt;br /&gt;the chocolate bag&lt;br /&gt;the shouting match&lt;br /&gt;the aaloo tikki burger&lt;br /&gt;thw waiting Swift&lt;br /&gt;the discharged phone&lt;br /&gt;the room with 4 colors&lt;br /&gt;the missing SMS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* a list of things i came across today&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-3080516358684408116?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/3080516358684408116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=3080516358684408116' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3080516358684408116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/3080516358684408116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2009/10/pensieve.html' title='Pensieve'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-2789300846695060880</id><published>2009-09-26T17:35:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-26T18:18:09.202+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Smile Please!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img175.imageshack.us/img175/8689/02131652381lp7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 433px; height: 323px;" src="http://img175.imageshack.us/img175/8689/02131652381lp7.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And slowly and steadily&lt;br /&gt;life pushed its way around&lt;br /&gt;looking for the sunshine&lt;br /&gt;breaking through the ground&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a spark here&lt;br /&gt;and a burst there&lt;br /&gt;light was making it through&lt;br /&gt;really from no where&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from unexpected things&lt;br /&gt;came little pieces of happiness&lt;br /&gt;its a matter of how open you are&lt;br /&gt;and how much you want to cling to sadness&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It may seem scary to get out there&lt;br /&gt;and face the storm&lt;br /&gt;but a cycle it is&lt;br /&gt;and the show needs to go on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the memories may haunt&lt;br /&gt;no matter how much peace&lt;br /&gt;you may want&lt;br /&gt;but let it all out&lt;br /&gt;and feel light and fly&lt;br /&gt;let the bads shrivel up&lt;br /&gt;and die...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;clung enough&lt;br /&gt;cried more&lt;br /&gt;died enough&lt;br /&gt;thinking of living some more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you had no control then&lt;br /&gt;you have no control now&lt;br /&gt;day led to night, night will lead to day&lt;br /&gt;follow the light all along the way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;choose to smile&lt;br /&gt;love to laugh&lt;br /&gt;make someone happy&lt;br /&gt;with a heart and a half&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life..it's priceless, you know&lt;br /&gt;too much to just give away...&lt;br /&gt;believe in hope&lt;br /&gt;it will never betray :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.: I really want to start my photoblog again... it was something, you know, being able to say a thousand things in a few lines with a picture.. and those lines really did had immense thought wrapped in them...ah.. no vanity.. but it was very special for me... i think am gonna get back to it... thanks ash:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-2789300846695060880?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/2789300846695060880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=2789300846695060880' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/2789300846695060880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/2789300846695060880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2009/09/smile-please.html' title='Smile Please!'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-1888336750668128182</id><published>2009-09-20T20:41:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-20T21:43:11.895+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Hang On!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;For a friend: here is a sort-of-pep-talk I wrote for myself a while ago. Hope it helps you as it helps me.&lt;/span&gt;..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know... you know?... I really actually truly believe in the heart of my hearts, that this is gonna get solved. Yes. This is gonna be over. It is the law of the nature. What comes has to go. As the day ends, night would too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its like those scary exam days. When you thought you really would never make to the other end. But they do. They somehow just do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything will fall into the right place. You just gotta believe in it long enough. You remember that one liner?? Its not the final blow of the hammer that drives the nail in. If the nail is in the wood, its because of all the blows that didn't seem to have any effect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have got to be patient. You have got to hold on... really. Just hang on and be patient. Bear it. The confusion, the frustration.. just go through it. YES it will hurt..and YES it'll make you wanna quit. But you gotta keep doing it. Till you no longer feel it. and then you'll get the result. The result that'll make everything, every moment of helplessness, every frustration seem worthwhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life can only be lived forwards, but it is understood backwards.That's the beauty of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just has to work out. Absolutely has too. There has got to be a way. And if you can't see it now, just believe in it so bad that it is forced to materialize out of nowhere!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You never thought you'll get into this situation. So how can you think you can't get out of it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know why the rain dance works?? Because they don't stop dancing till it rains... Keep dancing.. It's GOTTA rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the fear of not making it till the end that stops you at every step. Trust me every step. I know. I trust you. But you gotta know who is strong. The fear or your determination? So who is it gonna be?? What are you made of?? What the hell ARE you made of?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Things aren't the way they were before. &lt;/span&gt;It IS sad. It IS NOT unfair. You have no idea what other people's life's are made on. This is your challenge. YOU face it. YES you want to shout, to hit people where it'll hurt them the most. BUT this is how it is. And will always be. You have got to get through it. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;In the end, it doesn't even matter &lt;/span&gt;what happened or didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To get something you have never had before, you gotta do something you haven't done before. You gotta change. You gotta take this up. It's your pain. Yours. Not somebody else's. They have theirs. And you have yours. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It won't be ignored.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I will never know myself until i do this on my own &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and I will never feel anything else until my wounds are healed &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I will never be anything till I break away from me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I will break away. I'll find myself today &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Erase all the pain till its gone...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/SrZUckPDEuI/AAAAAAAAAr4/7CViz3Z9yAE/s1600-h/2121_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/SrZUckPDEuI/AAAAAAAAAr4/7CViz3Z9yAE/s320/2121_.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383583254307869410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;P.S.: Like old days, Linkin Park saves my soul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-1888336750668128182?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/1888336750668128182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=1888336750668128182' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1888336750668128182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/1888336750668128182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2009/09/hang-on.html' title='Hang On!'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WLKyo4rb-6M/SrZUckPDEuI/AAAAAAAAAr4/7CViz3Z9yAE/s72-c/2121_.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3399631395932953597.post-7524054702825985698</id><published>2009-09-12T23:45:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-13T01:46:25.117+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Cigrettes</title><content type='html'>that lack of words&lt;br /&gt;that awkwardness&lt;br /&gt;that simplicity&lt;br /&gt;that intelligence&lt;br /&gt;the wisdom&lt;br /&gt;that innocence and that hard work&lt;br /&gt;that sense of humour (and its overwhelming presence!)&lt;br /&gt;that 'lost' look in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;and that style (or lack thereof :P)&lt;br /&gt;that concern in your voice&lt;br /&gt;that smile and that laughter&lt;br /&gt;that easiness&lt;br /&gt;that ability to soothe nerves&lt;br /&gt;that honesty and That temper (my my!)&lt;br /&gt;those silly dreams and quest for answers...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its no suprise that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I love you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we can't be together&lt;br /&gt;(No chance, no way)&lt;br /&gt;It's written like that&lt;br /&gt;and it's designed that way...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like two sides of the river&lt;br /&gt;running parallel, side by side&lt;br /&gt;never to meet&lt;br /&gt;but nothing to hide...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I didn't want you then&lt;br /&gt;and I don't want you now&lt;br /&gt;If truth be told,&lt;br /&gt;and we &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;were&lt;/span&gt; together&lt;br /&gt;..that'll be total mess! (I swear!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And seriously, I don't even &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;care&lt;/span&gt; what you think of me (hah! :P)&lt;br /&gt;or if you think of me &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;at all&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;I just wanted to say...&lt;br /&gt;that I have &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;always&lt;/span&gt; loved you&lt;br /&gt;...and there is nothing you can do about it (how about that?:P)&lt;br /&gt;nor can I...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;P.S.: Smoke On! :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3399631395932953597-7524054702825985698?l=musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/feeds/7524054702825985698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3399631395932953597&amp;postID=7524054702825985698' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7524054702825985698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3399631395932953597/posts/default/7524054702825985698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://musafirhuyaaron.blogspot.com/2009/09/blog-post.html' title='Cigrettes'/><author><name>The Wanderer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15488078612693291004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTqebu4iQYI/Tp2Xn82B7HI/AAAAAAAACmg/tTsQUa1IRgY/s220/blogger.png'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry></feed>
