tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29273851727132705672024-03-13T09:56:25.688-07:00Om! vibes on the Water lipLove, Life & Lamborghini...no..well,err...laugh!M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-48926569955687102962009-02-05T03:17:00.000-08:002009-02-05T18:23:15.908-08:00Scary story...<p><em><span style="color:#00cccc;">This is the story of a comic script gone all wrong.</span></em></p><p><a href="http://threewordwednesday.wordpress.com/2009/02/04/3ww-cxxiii/#comments">3ww-Crumple,Illicit, Nerve</a></p><p>I hurled the <strong>crumpled</strong> paper<br />My script, bejewelled<br />By courage that seemed ancient,<br />Nested provoking humour.<br />Words on it sprinkled<br />Along the wind which carried<br />My dreams,<br />Of laughter beyond seams<br />As though <strong>illicit</strong> in purpose<br />Into obscurity…<br />An ignorant attempt at humour<br />What <strong>nerve</strong>?<br />At a time like this!<br />Questions of frozen reality<br />Spiked up like pillars of the mirage<br />Holding it strong<br />Are we there yet?<br />Can we laugh at ourselves? </p>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-29400968285030862102009-01-21T06:31:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:32:25.612-08:00Maya<p align="justify"><a href="http://threewordwednesday.wordpress.com/2009/01/21/3ww-cxxi/">3ww -Cadence,Humble,Resolve</a> & <a href="http://www.blogger.com/">Deception,Panic,Scheme</a></p><p align="justify"></p><p align="justify"><em>How could I? Would it not be <strong>deception</strong> of the worst order? How could I even think of something like that? What about my Minnu who, with her <strong>humble</strong> love, has shown me the right path & unconditionally been there for me always? What about our common ideals that we struggle to hold up day in and out?..The days when a pinch in one’s heart would bring tears in the other’s eyes & the soothing of one’s senses could be felt by the other’s mind? I have lived in the warmth of her vibes all these years. How can I even forget the sail against the storm that Minnu made to get me to the shore? She risked her life to keep my virtues alive. How could I forget that? How could I even entertain the thought of love for Raag when Minnu is in love with him? I had felt the innocent happiness Minnu felt at the very moment she realised that finally her unkind, hard life gave her something to look forward to. A reason to want to live. A reason, to celebrate life despite all it had been to her so far. No. I can’t do it.</em> Maya stood frozen, struck by <strong>panic</strong> as thoughts whirled in her mind wildly plunging her into a sense of darkness. She felt like nothing, as though diffused in the wind that was filled with smells of a traitor. She was pulled back to reality by the loud voice of the light man who informed her that her next scene was ready to be shot. Maya had decided that she would forget her love for Raag. Maya knew she would never be able to love any other man in her life ever again. But this is the least she can do for Minnu. She was her best friend, almost her alter ego. After Maya’s ten year relationship crashed, she had lost trust in men & all hope in life. And she had lived like a recluse, counting down to end her life. Until Minnu came along. That’s when her clotted emotions felt a rush again. Minnu taught her to cry for others’ pains, fight for others, laugh with others & feel solace in enriching others' lives forgetting her own. The smiles & blessings Maya got wherever she went after Minnu happened in her life healed her & brought her more contentment than anything could ever bring. As Maya perfected her look, she had <strong>resolved</strong> to bury her love for Raag, end it once & for all. The camera rolled, “Minnu, Episode 1058”, shouted out the clapper-loader as Maya readied her <strong>cadence</strong> & went on to perform the role of the protagonist that she was in the soap. Maya slipped, with perfect ease, into the <strong>scheme</strong> of Minnu, the dramatic illusion that had gradually, through the years, flown over all seams & seeped into the immaculate artiste's world & had left it soaked in alive delusion...</p>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-83620019571508457042009-01-14T09:41:00.000-08:002009-02-05T03:26:13.954-08:00Picture Perfect<a href="http://threewordwednesday.wordpress.com/2009/01/14/3ww-cxx/">3ww - Entwine, Forfeit, Tryst</a><br /><br />Each distinct,<br />Each unalike<br />Entwine in a splash,<br />In a sweep of expression<br />Forfeit the ego<br />To lose into a harmony<br />That echoes the lure<br />Of married perceptions<br />Of a solitary spirit;<br />In a tryst to form<br />A joyous art,<br />A celebration of life!M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-66060206412384647322008-12-25T03:24:00.000-08:002009-02-05T03:26:37.759-08:00Two to One<p><a href="http://threewordwednesday.wordpress.com/2008/12/17/3ww-cxvi/">3WWW - Whisper, Faith, Miracle</a></p><p>Two<br />Hearts<br />Held together<br />By <strong>whispers</strong> on the lips,<br />Of <strong>faith<br /></strong>As they pour into each other<br />Beyond all wafts of reality<br />They rise to a <strong>miracle</strong> of togetherness<br />Melt to an ecstatic, warm<br />One</p>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-1718068882020083642008-12-13T10:37:00.000-08:002009-02-05T03:27:02.773-08:00Conquer self, as One, for One<p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#000000;"><a href="http://threewordwednesday.wordpress.com/2008/12/10/3ww-cxv/">3WWW - Enemy, Shatter, Vague </a></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><strong>Enemy</strong> of the night, rose</span><br />to <strong>shatter</strong> to smithereens,<br />the darkness that shadowed <strong>vague</strong>,<br />thrown thoughts, strewn by the storm<br />Dawn set in and cracked the chill<br />Finally, we awakened<br />The ball of fire rising inside us, as well<br />Diverse many, brought together<br />Thinking one thought, in one language<br />Ready to end the killer of peace<br />Ready to bring on a new beginning<br />A beginning, as One.</span></p>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-19770632022902211262008-03-14T01:55:00.000-07:002009-02-05T03:27:35.003-08:00Untitled - Medley of 3WW, Firday 5 & Sunday Scribblings<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="http://poefusion.blogspot.com/2008/03/friday-5_13.html">Friday 5 - Sylph, Rabble, Fizzy, Suasion, Freckled</a> </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="http://threewordwednesday.wordpress.com/2008/03/12/3ww-lxxvii/">3ww - Apartment, Began, Numb</a></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="http://sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/">Sunday Scribblings - Smorgasbord</a></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I <strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">began</span></strong> walking away </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">from the noisy <strong><span style="color:#00cccc;">rabble</span></strong> near my <span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>apartment,</strong></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#cccccc;">stroking my early stubble,</span></span><span style="color:#cccccc;"> </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">my stance straight</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">like a freshly chopped log of wood</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">my complexion, still bronzed<br />from the beach vacation i had taken a month back<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I could not believe it was over<br />And I was back from an euphoric romanticism<br />to the exhausting realism; the clichéd dots and crosses<br />Of an all-Monday life. Damn!<br />Even Sundays visited me in their pre-Monday disguise</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />Come Monday and a dramatic dullness would<br />begin to wind the wheel of life<br />with a biased tilt towards demanding work<br />I needed more time with life, with myself<br />I needed a change...<br /><br />A warm workplace that would play<br />a happy host to my <strong><span style="color:#00cccc;">fizzy</span></strong> ideas<br />With not a price of separate <strong><span style="color:#00cccc;">suasion</span></strong>;<br />The ideas would do<br />their own elevator pitching</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">That place would not make me feel drained </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">to the brink of sane time,</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">It would not make me jaded</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">it would not give me any aches; only s</span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">pells</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">of prosperous togetherness with my life...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I let my eyes wander into the mirage of<br /><em>dawn dreams</em>; until my gaze<br />came to glide on her smooth, <strong><span style="color:#00cccc;">sylph</span></strong> like silhouette<br />She had a yummy tan too</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">embossing a checkered perception<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">She was glowing; h</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">er solid skin</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">as though diaphanously housing <span style="color:#00cccc;"><strong>freckles</strong></span> of gold</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">underneath<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">She seemed appealingly nutty</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">mystifying the connoisseurs; </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">her fanatics</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">always ended up in an addictive affair with her<br /><br />No doubt she fed the appetite of my<br />greedy eyes; but i was seduced,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I could not wait for more...<br />I slowly brought her closer to me<br />My eager mouth ready to be filled..with her<br /><br />I softly sunk my teeth on to her</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">and felt an ecstatic slink down my throat<br />Aah! Such indulgence...<br />Deep throated; </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">smothering speechlessly,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">infusing an energising fluid; filling my <strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">numb</span></strong> senses...<br /><br />I <em>chewed on</em>; i knew where i wanted to go</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">forget the bond; fairness to all is the priority<br />This Monday, i would set the job-hunting ball rolling<br />With that sunup, I carried on</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">with the blissful satiation of my taste buds;<br />sometimes chocolate therapy does wonders...</span>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-64826062832454703432008-02-27T08:49:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:29:11.342-08:00Resolution of the 'Late' Mr.X with mistaken identity<p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="http://threewordwednesday.wordpress.com/2008/02/27/3ww-75/">3WW - Apology, Consider, Distant</a></span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He got off his bike and dashed to the facade of his work-house;<br />House, yes, he spent most of his time there keeping at<br />carving a place for himself in the corporate history,<br />to be known, to be seen, even from the moon...<br /><br />His jog stance hardly matched his striking black formal suit<br />Otherwise a sucker for class, he could not thwart<br />the rather clumsy verb he was then indulged in<br />With only about five minutes to get to his office swipe point<br />style or even a drift that way seemed </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#00cccc;"><strong>distant</strong><br /></span><br />He ignored the elevator and hopped up the stairs<br />Zipped past the receptionist, not forgetting to flash a smile<br />It was his way of expressing thanks to the silent,<br />amused one-man audience of his everyday nick-of-time drama<br /><br />He skid to a stop at the door, knowing as he swiped<br />that all the tussle had been in vain, a speculator that he was,<br />by profession and now, out of a recessive kip,<br />late. By a cascaded minute; ‘Damn!!!!’ he whined, stopping abruptly<br />as if he would continue tomorrow..<br /><br />He walked in, anyway; actually, that being the only way<br />With his feet not on the ground, almost<br />He got to his workstation in inconspicuous strides<br />a couple of minutes to settle in, to boot<br />For the next long minute he <strong><span style="color:#00cccc;">considered</span></strong> how his toil for identity<br />despite his versatility, people person-ness et al<br />was sidestepped by this period of effortless foot dragging.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He raised his bottle like a ritual and gulped down the water ,<br />feeling it slide down his throat, wetting the dryness<br />caused by a moisture less <strong><span style="color:#00cccc;">apology</span></strong> that was strewn by guilt<br />flushing down the vice that won today, again<br />in the race seeking to win the identity crisis;<br />the go-getter in him was NOT going to be known as the latecomer.</span></p>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-80315517468397981042008-02-18T23:09:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:29:11.342-08:00Dedicated to my 'body doubles', a.k.a., duos-in-perfect-positive-correlation<a href="http://readwritepoem.org/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img height="32" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2366/1832765104_d99c408f3e_o.jpg" width="150" /></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span><a href="http://readwritepoem.org/2008/02/18/get-your-poem-on-14/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Prompt: A poem based on 'ode to the body'</span></a></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Loyal couples on my body<br />So near, yet so far<br />from each other; even so<br />growing or getting smaller in happy duets<br />with nothing to choose between them<br />their sync keeps me ‘poised’ too!<br /><br />*<em> I am so glad that our hands, legs...get bigger or smaller in <strong>exactly similar proportions</strong>. Dare to imagine otherwise?! :)</em></span>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-33169679620190087542008-02-17T22:41:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:29:11.343-08:00Am like a bird...<a href="http://poefusion.blogspot.com/search/label/Monday%20Mural"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;">Monday Mural - Birds</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"> & </span><a href="http://creativegoddesses.blogspot.com/2008/02/monday-poetry-train-44.html"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;">Monday Poetry Train</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></span><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_c1x4or3gcP4/R7ks7Z2Y-TI/AAAAAAAAABs/eEZ0GYiuZkI/s1600-h/birds.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168211446447274290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_c1x4or3gcP4/R7ks7Z2Y-TI/AAAAAAAAABs/eEZ0GYiuZkI/s200/birds.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I love to see the birds fly;<br />the family unions, the solitary soars<br />I shut my eyes, my imagination flying riot<br />and there I was, on cloud nine... literally<br /><br />I bathed in the glory of infinite independence<br />It gave me a high; higher than any other<br />With no laid ways and no destination, I flew, on a mysteriously invisible path<br />that revealed itself up as I flew, for no one to follow<br /><br />I flew a peacefully smooth, sweeping flight<br />with nothing to hold except my light self<br />I expected nothing too<br />and that nothingness was fulfilling, addictive...<br /><br />Then they came - The clan.<br />Invites are not expressed in this world above the world<br />I joined them, aligning with their rhythm;<br />their peace and poise well preserved.<br /><br />As we soared high like one family, we were so full<br />of easy, language-less harmony;<br />The world, with all its pain and glory, was under our feet<br />and was nothing much.</span>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-85021388608281447102008-02-16T00:56:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:29:28.834-08:00Smooth as silk<p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"><a href="http://sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/">Sunday Scribblings - Sleep</a></span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Retiring after a hard day’s work, I glided on to the satin sheets of my bed<br />sleep craved, yet swirling and curling on the smooth covers of </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">the solo strife-less delight in my life<br />I felt dizzy; the lullaby of the velvety peace drowned<br />by the emotional turbulent ride I had had that day<br /><br />I wondered how even a royal smoothness was not enough<br />to pamper me to slip into a state of blissful ignorance, a melting unconsciousness<br />And how even when in the thick of indulgence<br />I felt naked and exposed to the darkness;<br />the overpowering obscurity that scared me when I was awake<br /><br />I was tired, mentally and physically; usually, getting to such a brink would do<br />The fall would occur by itself, as though some invisible guardian hands<br />gave me a soft nudge; where is my guardian today? Where are those motherly hands?<br />Oh, maybe those invisible hands haven’t recognised me yet<br />I was veiled, by the thoughts that disturbed my undisturbed fantasy<br /><br />I undressed; stripping off the burdening veil with some difficulty<br />the estrangement disseminated into the darkness, losing its form<br />And there they were; those reassuring, motherly hands of hope<br />tenderly caressing my back, shaming my sleepless yearning</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I silently and happily slid away from the spiny reality<br />falling into a deep, deep air of serenity;<br />Whispering a soft, slumbered thanks;<br />I drifted into a light nothingness, cocooned in the silky indulgence of <strong>hope</strong> for a brand new dawn..</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">*<em> <span style="color:#ff6600;"><span style="color:#cc33cc;">On teeth - an earlier post, courtesy the Sunday Scribblings 'Fridge Space' prompt (following the 'Too Late' post) </span>- <a href="http://the-awm.blogspot.com/2008/02/too-late.html">A Forthright Mock</a></span></em></span></p>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-14020645342378936432008-02-14T21:22:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:29:28.835-08:00Stroke of Luck<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"><a href="http://poefusion.blogspot.com/2008/02/friday-5_14.html">Friday 5 - Skew, Foreign, Wailing, Travel, Arithmetic<br />Theme: Someone moves the end</a></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The <strong>skew</strong> occurs every time<br />in her economics, with not one flattening twist<br />Still, the start recurs, religiously regular;<br />her <strong>travel</strong> to the casino covertly planned out<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">and all the moves-<strong>arithmetic</strong> flawlessly worked out<br />by our gullible beauty; and the hungry beasts<br />yet, again this time, devoured in a not-so-<strong>foreign</strong> fashion<br />Until her last <strong>wailing</strong> penny<br />And our lady as usual, felt that kick in the teeth<br />As though <span style="color:#66cccc;"><strong>someone</strong></span>, from nowhere, <strong><span style="color:#66cccc;">moved the end</span><em>;</em></strong></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><em><br /></em></strong>Those flashy machines had taken her for a ride<br />one more time; but our lady is no dark horse<br />and she will not end her affair<br />with luck; she still strokes with fiscal feathers<br />those that glitters, those that will give her gold<br />play on, she will, until she gets too old..<br /><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;">*<em> i do not gamble; i have only seen a casino when on a tour schedule! :) This is a totally imaginative poem; to give the readers a light, enjoyable read..hopefully that is!</em></span></span>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-23055811991472863152008-02-13T09:20:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:32:25.612-08:00My mind seems blank now...<div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"><a href="http://threewordwednesday.wordpress.com/2008/02/13/3ww-lxxiii/">3WW - Girlfriend, Imagined, Slight</a></span></div><div align="left"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Girlfriend</strong>? Well, I’ll try................ All that my mind sees now is a blinding whiteness, a blank that is crystal clear. No, I am not renouncing today’s prompt yet. I will persist my hunting for some connected image, verse, events – something, anything - even if suspended well over me, I will reach out; I am sure I can do better – but no, not a <strong>slight</strong> blurb, not even a silent fizz. I try seeking and the words dunk in the ether. Getting visibly invisible. Not that girlfriends are alien to me or that I have an alien for a girlfriend and THAT is a classified affair; but today, my psyche (that I always <strong>imagined</strong> I had) seems vague, pokerfaced & detached. Could it be because a lizard fell on me a couple of minutes back? Of all days, today(!!), when i am already dumbstruck by the elusive dream that I have been pursuing for years now; the dream that has so far remained only a dream... I shuddered for a moment before I could gather myself again and carry on to take a shot at today's 3WW prompt... (Ugh!!Damn it!! I HATE reptiles!)</span></div>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-76000231298373217212008-02-12T22:12:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:32:25.613-08:00Unconscious Mutterings....not totally unconscious though<p align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6600;"><strong><a href="http://subliminal.lunanina.com/trackback/10231/"><em></em></a></strong></span></p><p align="justify"><a href="http://subliminal.lunanina.com/um/comments/10231/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#cc33cc;">I say... and you think...? <em>Week 262</em></span></span></a></p><ol><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#00cccc;">Score</span> :: What's my blog score? Well, ok, let me not jump the gun... I shall wait until you are through with the whole wordy simulated footage. This ain’t even a teaser. </span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#00cccc;"><blockquote><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></span></blockquote>Luxurious</span> :: Right now, the distance between me & my man getting to a ruling zilch is more luxurious than the getting together of all luxuries in the world into one sugary swirl and it is the one luxury I ever, would ever want. With that in place, I do not mind if the other luxurious thingies in the world share a roof with me; I am generally a very generous soul. </span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#00cccc;"><blockquote><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></span></blockquote>Party</span> :: My sexy party bag, which I haven’t had a chance to use since I got it six months back... Moral of the story? Well, i just haven’t had the chance to make any waves! Blankness in the Page 3 of my life’s journal right now is the scoop & THAT is not even a typo! </span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#00cccc;"><blockquote><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></span></blockquote>Limited edition</span> :: Sheer class! Indulging exclusivity is my style preference. Strict NO to clones!! And hey, I am a glad ritzy limited edition too! (5’3’’ ONLY in this whole wide world & over!!)</span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#00cccc;"><blockquote><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></span></blockquote>Security</span> :: Made me rake my brain so much, this word...yet i feel totally blank...i can’t be bothered more.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#00cccc;"><blockquote><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></span></blockquote>Betty</span> :: One of my two best friends from college – beautiful Betty. One strong woman; stronger than she thinks she is. We live thousands of miles apart; yet whenever we meet it seems like a happy routine. Lovely wife, doting mom and to me...she’s a mind reader, propeller, my ego...She sort of seems to home a multiple personality disorder (!) only to whip me softly back to order. The possibilities of personality are endless & she never ceases to try. I love her for what she is. And yeah, the Management guy – how can i forget him, her romantic extension who’s turned this apparently hard-nut-to-crack rough chic a little bit slushy; kudos to him. He’s definitely come through as a most successful CEO. Yet, at home, it's not him at the top most rung neither it is Betty; their adorable chief keeps them on their toes - Rhea!<br /><blockquote></blockquote>The story is not complete without the soft, subtly sassy and sweet Gayu, the second best friend; second only in number & not in order. She & her man with a rehearsed, final cut smile, have recently brought this new package of a sweeter-than-sweet version of Gayu into this world – I am now a very happy friend; God bless them!<br /><blockquote></blockquote>Betty, Gayu & I - Someone once said, we were like Charlie’s Angels (ok, i admit, i said that!) – Betty playing the voluptuous Drew, Gayu playing Lucy Liu (it’s not only the rhyme in name, but the rhyme in the slender suaveness too!) & I would play Diaz, for no better reason than that it was the only possibility left out! I am from no angle whatsoever, comparable to Diaz or Diaz to me! (Remember the 'Limited Edition' secret?!!)</span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#00cccc;"><blockquote><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></span></blockquote>Under construction</span> :: My Love. For my family – present & future. Having the instinctive, inherent kit of beat & pulse, for laying a strong foundation, I will go on to leave no stone unturned in getting this concrete high, higher & higher & higher... My love is vastly spacious, accommodative, serviced, well ventilated, lush and lifts to a sky scraping high, perhaps even past the windows of Zeus. </span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#00cccc;"><blockquote><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#00cccc;"></span></span></blockquote>Pest</span> :: Mosquitoes, dead & bloody on my skin – I killed them in a slap. Earlier, I used to feel very sorry not wanting to hit them; but now I have evolved & my survival instincts have taken over me. These rascals of suckers have pricked my peace out of me! Invaded my privacy, my flow of thoughts, don’t let me sleep or even lounge in peace, causing pain with no corresponding visible / even invisible gain & seem to be f***ing multiplying (pun intended!) by the nano second in our city – enough motive for a murderer! Is the mayor flipping (euphemism, you see...) anaemic or something? Or perhaps, an alien! <blockquote></blockquote></span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#00cccc;">Director</span> :: I have got ten subjects on my cards. Atleast I thought so until I carefully watched myself typing (sometimes multi-tasking eludes me). It seems that only about half of the ten fingers are acting protagonists in my direction. (Well, it’s definitely better than before when I managed to direct only my middle fingers (for typing, that is!) and two other extras). Hope the resulting ‘simulated footage’ turns out a smash hit. Or am I being too ambitious here? <blockquote></blockquote></span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#00cccc;">Express</span> :: Well, how (else) on earth do I express my love for my man to my family; for them to see it the way I do, as the best thing that has ever happened to me & earn their long awaited, much deserved approval? </span></li></ol><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Okay, IT'S A WRAP!<br /> </span></p>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-41244784256111522572008-02-09T23:33:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:32:25.613-08:00Too Late<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="justify"><a href="http://sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/2008/02/97-fridge-space.html"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Sunday Scribblings - <strong>Fridge Space</strong></span></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#ff6600;"><br /></span><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I stood there glaring at the vacuum of separation, my vision dissolving in the icy sheets of void curled up into a closed resolute silo. Its nucleus, now heartless, seemed like a <strong>fridge space</strong>, chilling up to an unbearable seep of frozen air, taking marriage oaths with cold isolation. My body was filled up every cell with emptiness that seemed to have taken a peaceful slumber refuge in me. Time was lucently frozen, kind enough only to let me see through my broken past; the stormy turn when the sixth doctor confirmed that we could not have a baby. I had then got myself drowned in work, letting our punctured dream of a happy family, float above & not get anywhere near me. I went to almost insane lows of an escaping mirage; riding the cold waves of life with blinkers; unaware of our swerving paths. You perhaps yearned for love then, the love that had naturally mingled in you, pulsating life every inch of time. I let that love flow out of you slowly, swept by ignorant solitude. And when the last drop of promise quietly flowed out, you would have breathed your last. I seem dry now; I cannot cry. I pulled myself from the blank outside, turning inwards desperately searching for you. Thoughts sharper than the sharpest sword gouged through layers of my ashen flesh; the pain seemed a soothing friend, pouring unto my barren heart, a belated reminiscence of the love offspring that we had parented... She was there, right there with us, our baby; gurgling softly, playing & cuddling up joyously in the warm womb of our married hearts and I had unconsciously & inconsiderately swerved, hiding not be sought by surreal reality and in the haggle, ignorantly abandoned our baby in the deserted streets of oblivion. I had separated you from our family. And now, you have gone away in a pure embrace of unconsciousness to mother that oblivion, after years of devotedly & silently caring for me, leaving only a blinding white void for me to care for... </span></div><p><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Ok, now, i hate to write sad, serious stuff. So, this silly re-take was irresistible - i HAD to make up ...</span></em></p><p><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#339999;">A Forthright Mock</span></strong></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My pearly white gates had a gap in between, with the taller pivotal twins in the centre literally being the cynosure. I liked their independent nature though - a resolute pair indeed; if they set themselves on something, you could definitely say they set their <em>teeth</em> on it! Quite inspiring, at times. They knew that I owned them; I could knock them off if they didn’t behave or annoyed me too much. Yet they would go on, unabashed, with their drools & scraping wordy endeavours. They always played good doubles – serving, scraping, biting & <em>rabbitting</em> on! Their attempts were sometimes complying & sometimes amusing, that is, if I am not in the bite-me-not mood. Today, these assertive iconoclasts seemd to be in their lazy best as they spun my words to the assistant architect - “we need to visit the bridge space before uploading stuff on to the site, lest that it gets overloaded”, to a mock feat; my <em>lippy bunny teeth</em> sounded out “we need to visit the <strong>fffridge spface</strong> fefore upfloading stuff on to the site, lest that it gets overloaded” and joined an amused assistant in looking ‘down’ on my arrogant paunch in silent giggles... </span></p><p align="justify"></p>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-81339699408392288152008-02-07T01:04:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:29:28.836-08:00The Mute Witness<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"><a href="http://threewordwednesday.wordpress.com/2008/02/06/3ww-72/">3WW - Bridge, Disturbed, Still</a></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Water<br />Glittery, enlivener<br />Witnessing, understanding, uplifting<br />the bridge-walkers; sometimes disturbed yet<br />Still </span>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-79453891617084244552008-02-05T21:00:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:32:25.614-08:00My Five Word Monologue -<a href="http://fivewordmonologues.blogspot.com/2008/02/secret-of-sea-hobby-mug-reticent-knife.html">The Secret of the Sea</a>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-27613944232255318752008-01-31T08:32:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:32:25.614-08:00The Designer for a Fee<table bordercolor="#6f5b80" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="5" width="100%" bgcolor="#ffffff" border="1"><tbody><tr><td align="middle" colspan="2"><a href="http://www.take2max.com/writing/"><img src="http://www.take2max.com/writing/wp-includes/images/ff.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td colspan="2" cellpadding="5"><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#000000;">This Week’s Theme: [Fiction] Friday Challenge for February, 1 2008:Your character was lost in her own thoughts. When she snaps back to reality, she realizes she was singing out loud. Unfortunately, she wasn't somewhere private. How embarrassing... Take it from there. <hr /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#000000;">Here’s the text -<br /><br /></span><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#000000;">As he relieved himself of the over ballooned up pressure, the sssing almost sounded like an unaccompanied symphony. He couldn’t help but lend his vocals to it, frittering away the silence (sans the freedom-at-last sounds from ‘co-equals’) and the gentleness in the hotel’s gentlemen room. As the pressure eased, the humming turned to a happy let-loose singing; high pitched & attempting to follow the patterns of the piss. The ‘peers’ shocked, temporarily stopped meditating on addressing their calls and looked at him, some puzzled and some amused and all stunned, more by his wrap-up pissing in circles that pissed away the annoying off-track out-of-closet hum. For some of the 'audience' of the 'theatre', the pressure relayed on, reincarnating as a pressure to crack-up. With a loud ‘Awww! Do ALL good things have to come to an end?’, he pulled his zip up, casually glancing around to spot potential ‘competitors’. Only then did he actually feel those about five to six pairs of unblinking eyes, with accompanied half-open mouths, eating him up raw with their ‘DUH!!!!’ looks. He wanted to disappear. Quietly, he performed the ensuing formalities, not wanting to be ‘duh’ed more for his lack of ‘loo manners’ and went to the dryer wishing it worked on coal and that the smoke it spits out would give him a clandestine cover to slither out of the room. But no, it seemed a long minute and he glided out the door pretending to take a call, introducing him as the ‘Designer’ for a fee. It seemed to sound like a ‘de-singer for a pee’..</span></div><div align="justify"><br /></div></td></tr><tr><td align="middle" bgcolor="#ac9db9"><a href="http://www.take2max.com/writing/fiction-friday#code"><span style="color:#6f5b80;">get the Fiction Friday code</span></a></td><td align="middle" width="50%" bgcolor="#ac9db9"><a href="http://www.take2max.com/writing/fiction-friday"><span style="color:#6f5b80;">about Fiction Friday</span></a></td></tr><tr><td align="middle" bgcolor="#ac9db9" colspan="2">Technorati tags: <a href="http://technorati.com/tag/fiction" target="_blank" rel="tag"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: 0.4em; VERTICAL-ALIGN: middle; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px" alt=" " src="http://static.technorati.com/static/img/pub/icon-utag-16x13.png" /><span style="color:#6f5b80;">fiction</span></a>, <a href="http://technorati.com/tag/%22fiction+friday%22" rel="tag"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; MARGIN-LEFT: 0.4em; VERTICAL-ALIGN: middle; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px" alt=" " src="http://static.technorati.com/static/img/pub/icon-utag-16x13.png" /><span style="color:#6f5b80;">fiction friday</span></a></td></tr></tbody></table>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-27614844898841776082008-01-31T00:50:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:29:28.836-08:00"Desire" -- Writers Island<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="http://writersisland.wordpress.com/2008/01/25/prompt-link-desire/">Desire</a></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My instinctive urge of foreplay overtook me<br />I looked into his eyes; holding the love air, a willing captive<br />Our lips met - his sweet, addictive taste filled my insatiable mouth<br />I laid my head on his bare chest, melting in ‘us’...<br />I could hear the rhythm playing his unspoken desires<br />As we soared in sync, in the indulgence of the revealed<br />We slowly but gradually, drifted to an unbelievable high<br />A high that liberated us from all things worldly, for that moment...</span>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-26745627145116982072008-01-30T07:37:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:32:25.615-08:00A Mermaid's Nuptial - 3WWW<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#00cccc;"><strong>Approach</strong></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#00cccc;"><strong>Bottle</strong></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#00cccc;"><strong>Smooth</strong></span></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6600;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6600;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I <strong>approached</strong> the deeps with more passion and yearning than ever before. There seemed to be a flurry of excitement fuelled by an insatiable love within, despite the overwhelmingly calm and composed sea around me. The water was cuddling up and playing with the soft, invisible breeze, feeling tickled yet cosy in each other’s company. And then I saw HER, my love from the other world, my raison d’etre. My seat of passion almost missed a beat (it does every time we meet; the passion that was born when I first saw her has ever since become my shadow). I longed for togetherness more warm than the warmest mingle of the sea and the breeze. I quickened my catamaran in an irrepressibly thirsty hurry; it slithered in a <strong>smooth</strong> fashion towards the incessant beauty trickle that beat the vast, indefinite sea around. As I got close, I held my hand out to her, palpitating in an earnest craving for love and life; far from the mad whirly world where our unfathomably deep love sprinkles will infuse formlessly and wholly into the deep & gracefully subtle waters. She got on to my catamaran with her arms around me to get a hug truss, needing the hug more than the truss. As i peered into her strikingly blue eyes in awe, wondering whether her eyes or the sea is blue-er and deeper, I got lost in the love I saw. She tightened her embrace and pulled my sight away to a beautiful blob like <strong>bottle</strong> in her hand. The clear bottle housed an attractively white & shiny pearl with an equally shiny string. She took the pearl out and tied it around my neck, whispering our promises; her world of sea and the infinite breeze were witnessing & blessing us. We then swam, hand-in-hand her into her world; kissing each other passionately, welcoming the celebration of our love and togetherness for eternity.</span></div>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-73182607746905487032008-01-28T22:29:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:29:11.348-08:00Moulin Rouge<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc33cc;"><a href="http://creativegoddesses.blogspot.com/">Monday Poetry Train</a></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />Strokes of colours staged on her cheek<br />painty gloss making her lips like silk<br />Riot of tints played on, splashing<br />dainty affair, a double date to seek<br /><br />Then one frozen day, pushed to the lip of solitude<br />tears on her pale cheek wet their celebration nude<br />No sign of colour, no dance of hues<br />rainbow in black & white, streaked their blues<br /><br />With bare cheek, dew drops sashaying<br />she rose, like an art in need of price<br />After years of craving, the homecoming was born<br />she ran towards her warrior, her colour, he had won<br /><br />Isolation melting in his awe struck eyes<br />they embraced like no tomorrow<br />He looked at her, love & pride on a high<br />kissed on her cheek lapping up the dew<br />She blushed so pink; an effortless pink<br />as they won their love, conquered time & hues...</span>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-19987298678190777692008-01-16T03:48:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:32:25.615-08:00Confronting Dimensions – A Non-Speculative Report<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It was baby dawn and I woke up all determined to win & ready to fight the war. I reached the line of control, pramming along carefully, my do-or-die vigor. I was welcomed rather warmly into the war front. I embarked with fresh blood zeal, feeling like a winner even before the battle began. I walked, I pedaled & I climbed, firing away the myths about the ability of the procrastinator to meet colossus demands of focus & sweat. Yet, at the end of it all, I saw that I had got nowhere. I was right where I began. So were the warriors around me who were indulged in their selfish pursuits of our common goals, parallely. But no, I am not a quitter. I would hit and keep hitting my targets until I conquer the padded sites. Until I get the uninvited guests, pirates who have almost formed a luxurious colony, abscond forever. For now, my ambush strike would have knocked a little opulence out of them. It did. I could feel it. I thanked my ardent sense-nudger for all this; for having given me the kick start I needed very badly, as I walked out of Dimensions Fitness Studio.<br /></span></div>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-80664536849245944592008-01-14T04:45:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:32:25.616-08:00Bling Bling & Best Practice Management<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I have this passionate passion for glittery Blings. Crystals. Big crystals. Bigger sparkles. Oooohhh…!! It’s really hard to explain. You need to belong to the bling club or may be the hip hop (they are very much mutually inclusive!) for dat crazy tang to hit you. But no, not everyone can make it huh. Only tha Gods & Goddesses with dat At-i-tood can carry tha bling so cool. Now let me explain how my ‘fing for Bling-bling makes me a good CEO. Blings are intricate – so that vouches that I have an eye for details, innovative says that I am out of the box and irresistibly attractive – all raw! I leave a mark! Now, whether that causes zealous juice ups or jealous pangs. Who cares? All we need is the attention & the bling, of course! The bling funk – ‘The bigger, the better’! And see it from hi, lo or any angle, it says dat I’ve got tha ‘macro picture’! So, tell me brova, will I not make a great CEO?</span></div>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-77197320516948452942007-12-23T01:41:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:32:25.616-08:00Ignorance is Bliss!<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So much information in this world and a single hard disk, to boot! It's 'wicked' to know-it-all, i 'know'. But it's wicked too! Somebody once said '..we should always remain an empty cup to be able to absorb more..'. I try to follow that to the 'T'. But i only managed to go as far as the first one on that! And hey, is that blissfully light or what! Hail the magnanimity of the world wide web that showers information at you, like they say in tamil 'kooraiya pichchitu', when you just boomerang a single word! It could be as meaning less as '!$' or 'zf' or whatever - the worldly web has got it on its rolls and even gives a 'Did you mean this..' like that extra snack with tea to fuel up. It is indeed amazing on one side, every one has the right to know and every one gets the access too. But flip that and you see the side where so much information load-up could do a <em>pari passu</em> harm too. I have a close friend who reads a lot - voracious they say, isn't it - she's all eyes and mind for books - all types, hard bound or virtual. But it doesn't stop just there - it's like she has lots of audio, video memory joggers in, on & around her that just one slight sneeze is enough to nudge all that lists to roll out like a snag; those lists that list sneezing as the most malignant symptom of an unnamed disease that has 62.7% chances of coming into existence in about say 76.2 years from now, in Timbuktu! And before you know she gets to the timbuktuan state herself. For days, she floats on it, off and on, like life is not dopy enough as it is, borrowing trouble from the future (as if unawares of the 'probable' play), until some other read pulls her out of that silo, just to tuck her into another! Then there's me - a hypocondriach, well-woven by the the world wide web! I just about manage, everytime, to wiggle out of that temporary snatch of insanity - thanks to the sense nudge that some people give me! We need to be open alright, but not really keep 'all the doors' open! All open doors mean too much traffic. Through one route. And one way at that! Where's all that going to? Well, perhaps we should look up the net on that too!!<br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">P.S There's a drama add-on to some factual trivia. Any resemblance to anyone is absolutely, asked for! </span></div>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-3689499853525998442007-12-21T05:42:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:32:25.617-08:00The Corporate Dons Vs. The Pheonix<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I am not sure how translucent that is - the 'Corporate Dons' part of it. A quick defog would perhaps help you find the clarity lost elsewhere in life, here! A couple of roles in the Indian Corporate Industry, a bit of exposure to the Outsourcing culture and Voila! You will find yourself raving on about this ‘species’ of …err…humans. Well, at least, I did! The ‘contemporary colonies’ a.k.a B.P.Os / K.P.Os are where you will find them hunting you down! Interestingly, there would be no mafia – each don is his / her own country & his / her own king. And these altruists would pull out all the stops in serving their king and their country! Their bio? Well, with the amount of visibility that I have had into the ‘donning’ I could see that they are almost always able to perform all the functions of Ms Office Suite considerably well – from the basic ones like Cut, Copy and Paste to ‘run a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">slideshow</span>’! The content, of course, would be others ‘inputs’. There are exceptions - I do need to mention that not all would lack the pulp. Only that it would perhaps become a passenger and let the ‘Don’ drive! After all, the Dons are the most stunning real-life stunt men you will ever come across. Their survival mantra perhaps anchors on the fact that driving, stepping on (the gas, I mean) to be in control will only get them through the ‘finishing’ line. I am not sure about others, but I am all praise for these ‘Dons’ – true to their name, they really help people like me ‘don’ my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Jhansi</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ki</span> Rani armor, sharpen my attitude & grit so much so that I, the Phoenix, would bounce on with all my style & <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">sassiness</span> like perhaps, John Travolta in Swordfish. Only that, I would be as conspicuous as before or perhaps, even more – a black belt that I have evolved to be, in my ‘Spam & Sword’ technique. And of course, I have given myself the jab necessary to stay immune to the ‘Don’ bites. I do not need those ‘special power’ bullets. I have my own ‘skillets’ that would fire away – <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ahimsa</span> & skill filled. Thanks to the Corporate Dons plus my inherent ‘Warrior-in-my-own-right’ gene that has now been nudged and made active, I am all cut for the grand grind that life is. Are you? </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">P.S This blog is only based on a countable few. In any case, i believe a bit of Empathy & Respect would get even the hard nuts cracking. Exceptions apply. My rule of thumb - No jive!!</span></div>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2927385172713270567.post-29890029310126622272007-12-18T06:41:00.000-08:002011-02-09T07:32:25.617-08:00Om!<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This blog is one of my firsts & naturally, there is a thin line of excitement bubbling up. Thinner relatively, not because of a just-as-thin whim to blog, rather because of the ever changing priorities. Nevertheless, I will ‘write on’. Write, on ‘Om!’. Om has always got me awestruck. A single word. A single syllable. Entails the whole Universe. Yet stands for One. Oneness in everything fascinates me. More so, when it is a fusion of parallels. Fact nested in fiction, serious comedy, a constant change, a rainbow, an ever so grand simplicity, aged innocence, a salsa of melody with hip-hop, Yin Yang, Ardhanareeswarar, the language of silence, one heart dissolving into another (if you know what I mean!) and the mysterious blue Ocean flowing far and deep into the colossus, honest sky; so much so that the perceiver’s senses melt away & the perceiver becomes one with the perceived! …</span></div>M as in Minthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02737629866326152834noreply@blogger.com4