<?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-8199770093293088638</id><updated>2011-11-17T09:18:11.462-08:00</updated><category term='Prerna'/><category term='Akanksha'/><category term='studying'/><category term='Ujjwal'/><category term='CEll Phone'/><category term='Disha'/><category term='Aanchal'/><category term='Sukanya'/><category term='Vasudha'/><category term='I-POD'/><title type='text'>I Paint With Words</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>prats</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10381736533394492904</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SnpbKkldARI/AAAAAAAAAAg/V1LlyznERW0/S220/drumming.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>19</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199770093293088638.post-8820541808668665920</id><published>2011-05-08T08:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-08T08:23:38.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Seven Years-Part 4</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Cochin; "&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Trisha’s side: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Cochin; min-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Cochin; "&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I checked the heartbeat for one last time before going to sleep. Even though I knew I would not get any sleep. I looked at the little girl lying in the cot and wondered what I had done to deserve something as severe as this. Was it because of the fight seven years ago? Did Ria curse me so badly? Did she ever want my child to be deformed? It was not new that I was thinking about Ria again. This was not the first time. Since the time I have come back to India I have been thinking of calling her and apologising. I was harsh and unreasonable. I don’t know every time I called Ananyaa to take Ria’s number I just couldn’t. Did I blame her for everything that happened? Do I still do? Or is it just ego? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Cochin; min-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Cochin; "&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Isn’t it time that I put all this ego behind me and made a new beginning. A new start. Why is it so hard? Why do I always want her to make the first move? Why can’t I make it? Is it so difficult? It was not entirely my fault seven years ago and it was not entirely her’s either. We both were to be blamed. I over reacted but she could have talked to me and sorted things out. Why didn’t she? Did she not consider me a friend good enough to keep for life. She did keep her friendship with Ananyaa but it wasn’t Ananyaa who fought with her. I did! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Cochin; min-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Cochin; "&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I reached for my phone and was about to dial Ananyaa’s number again when I heard a cry from the cot. The universe was giving me signs not to call her. Maybe it was for the best that I didn’t. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8199770093293088638-8820541808668665920?l=pratsparamita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/feeds/8820541808668665920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2011/05/seven-years-part-4.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/8820541808668665920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/8820541808668665920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2011/05/seven-years-part-4.html' title='Seven Years-Part 4'/><author><name>prats</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10381736533394492904</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SnpbKkldARI/AAAAAAAAAAg/V1LlyznERW0/S220/drumming.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199770093293088638.post-33655099089538647</id><published>2011-03-22T08:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-22T08:13:09.542-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Luck And Destiny: Made or Written?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Cochin; color: #676767"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Scene 1 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Cochin; color: #676767"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;ABC: Oh my god!!!! U topped. You are so lucky. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Cochin; color: #676767"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;XYZ: Its not luck. I did work very hard for it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Cochin; color: #676767; min-height: 18.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Cochin; color: #676767; min-height: 18.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Cochin; color: #676767"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Scene 2 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Cochin; color: #676767"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;ABC: Listen its okay. I know u never expected to get such low marks. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Cochin; color: #676767"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;XYZ: I worked so hard. I was just UNLUCKY. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Cochin; color: #676767; min-height: 18.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Cochin; color: #676767; min-height: 18.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Cochin; color: #676767"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Luck. How do u define luck? Is it me or normal human behavior that everytime something goes wrong we blame our luck. And this so called luck only takes a back seat when something good happens in life.  So a question to all of you is it me, human nature or just a young adult hormonal thing? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Cochin; color: #676767; min-height: 18.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Cochin; color: #676767"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Moving on, everyone says “you are destined to do something important in life, you just haven’t found what it is till now.” Okay now this is really weird. If I am destined to make a huge mark on the society how is it that I have to make a path for it to happen? Isn’t my destiny supposed to lead me to it. I am not saying grab me by the hand and take me to it but atleast lighting the path would do the job or showing a flickering light in the tunnel  would be good enough. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Cochin; color: #676767; min-height: 18.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Cochin; color: #676767"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Destiny and luck are they two related terms? Are they different? Are they as different as chalk and cheese? Or as similar as Coke and Pepsi? And how is it decided? Am I fool thinking about this. Lastly, do you believe in destiny or luck? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Cochin; color: #676767"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I, presently, have no opinion&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Cochin; color: #676767; min-height: 18.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Cochin; color: #676767; min-height: 18.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Cochin; color: #676767; min-height: 18.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Cochin; color: #676767"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;A little help would be considerate! Thanking You! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8199770093293088638-33655099089538647?l=pratsparamita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/feeds/33655099089538647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2011/03/luck-and-destiny-made-or-written.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/33655099089538647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/33655099089538647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2011/03/luck-and-destiny-made-or-written.html' title='Luck And Destiny: Made or Written?'/><author><name>prats</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10381736533394492904</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SnpbKkldARI/AAAAAAAAAAg/V1LlyznERW0/S220/drumming.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199770093293088638.post-7048644429800687312</id><published>2011-01-29T09:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-29T09:12:34.023-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Seven Years-Part 3</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;For once Mr. Anderson’s talks were not putting me off to sleep.  I wouldn’t say I could comprehend everything he said. Okay honestly, none of it was making sense as usual. And this time it was not because he talked in too technical terms but it was because I wasn’t paying any attention. I couldn’t wait to get back home pack my begs and head off to Ria’s place. I couldn’t wait to meet her and tell her everything. Telling everything was not a very happy story but still the fact that she wanted to listen made me happy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;My cell phone beeped with a message which read “Really? And what happened to punctuality? No you are staying over. Love, R.” I was already an hour late and it was going to take me 15 minutes more.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;After the dinner when Ria and I had settled on the couch we started talking and after the customary how is work and everything she asked “So what is it about Trisha that you wanted to tell me? How come she is all broke now?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;“Ria, Recession and a lot of other things hit Trisha. She has a daughter who is barely 7 months old.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;“What? When did she get married? You never told me she was married.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;“She got married right after graduation when she was in the States studying MBA. Remember I told you about her boyfriend?” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Ria nodded. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;“Well it so happens she got married to him and never told anyone. He was her business partner. Well, Ria it so happens that her daughter has a disease. A deadly disease that you are well aware of Thalassemia. Look Ria she has tried every possible doctor in the US and none of them have a cure for the disease. I know your mother is a doctor and she went for a conference in Russia and has a clue about the people who are doing a research on this disease. Would it be possible that you give the number to Trisha? It would more than useful to her. “ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;“One minute, she couldn’t call me up and ask for the number herself? She sent you?” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;“No no! Ria no way. She has no clue that I have come to you for help. She is presently in India with James and her daughter. Please Ria she is just a little baby. Please put all this aside and think about the life of that child. It is not the time to keep teenage issues alive.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'; min-height: 25.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Ria was looking at the mirror the whole time that I was talking. She kept looking at it for almost an eternity and then spoke. The words that came out of her mouth were the most precious words ever. She said, “Lets go mom must be awake we will take the number from her now and go and visit Trisha tomorrow itself.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'; min-height: 25.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;By the time Trisha’s mom found the number it was almost 12 30 in the night. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt; “Oh! I can’t wait to go to Trisha tomorrow and give this number. I can just picture her smile.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'; min-height: 25.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;“Ananyaa, I would like to come with you and visit her. I want to meet her. IF  am putting all this aside I want her  to put it aside as well.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'; min-height: 25.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;If giving the number was going to earn her a ticket to heaven, this was going to give her the throne of god. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'; min-height: 25.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;“Yes! We will leave for her house first thing tomorrow morning.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'; min-height: 25.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px 'Apple Chancery'"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;To be continued.... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'Apple Chancery', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8199770093293088638-7048644429800687312?l=pratsparamita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/feeds/7048644429800687312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2011/01/seven-years-part-3.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/7048644429800687312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/7048644429800687312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2011/01/seven-years-part-3.html' title='Seven Years-Part 3'/><author><name>prats</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10381736533394492904</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SnpbKkldARI/AAAAAAAAAAg/V1LlyznERW0/S220/drumming.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199770093293088638.post-4075327791226831072</id><published>2011-01-01T20:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-01T20:12:31.824-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Seven years- Part 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino; color:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;"Yes, Mr. Anderson I want to cancel the meeting. I am very sorry for the inconvenience. Could we reschedule it? Oh great. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Thank you so much, Mr. Anderson.” Just as I am about to put my phone back in my bag I hear a familiar voice. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino;  min-height: 47.0pxcolor:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;“Cancelled out on a male client to meet me. Wow! Either you have been missing me too much or the male client is not cute. I go for the second option. And can u stop looking at your watch I am pretty aware of the fact that I am an hour late. I will never understand that time is money. Anyway, how have you been?” said Ria in one long breath.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino;  min-height: 47.0pxcolor:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;“I have been good. You should tell me all about your Goa trip. How was it?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino;  min-height: 47.0pxcolor:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;“No first we talk about the phone call that I got today morning. You know I am not a morning person but even for my  mom 4 o’clock in the morning is a little too early for chit chat on the phone. So whats wrong?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino;  min-height: 47.0pxcolor:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;"Why would you think something is wrong? Can’t I just call my friend because I was missing her. Do I always have to have a reason to call an old friend. The world has become cheap I tell you.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino; color:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I could see Ria was not buying my story and her ever fast brain had formulated a lot of possibilities. And possibilities which I would never guess unless she told me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino;  min-height: 47.0pxcolor:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;“Ananyaa, look if you have some financial problems you can always ask me for help. I have no problems as such. Please don’t hesitate.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino;  min-height: 47.0pxcolor:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;“Oh my god! No no. Its got nothing to do with that. I am actually here to talk about Trisha.”Ria looked as though I had stabbed her with a knife.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino;  min-height: 47.0pxcolor:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;After a long pause Ria spoke, she said, “Okay. So what about her? Is she in India? Why would you suddenly want to mention someone I haven’t talked to for seven years?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino;  min-height: 47.0pxcolor:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;“Ria look this is important. This is higher than Rahul. This is way above him. You cannot let the mere teenage issues affect what I am going to tell you right now.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino;  min-height: 47.0pxcolor:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;“Let me guess her ever blooming business in the states has become even more blooming right? And this is way above Rahul how?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino;  min-height: 47.0pxcolor:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;“Her business isn’t blooming now.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino;  min-height: 47.0pxcolor:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;“Oh! That is sad. Recession hit her too? Well too bad it hit everyone.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino;  min-height: 47.0pxcolor:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;“Ria this is much more than recession. Can you, for once, not just think about that day and try and listen?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino;  min-height: 47.0pxcolor:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;“Ananyaa, I might remind you I didn’t start the fight.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino;  min-height: 47.0pxcolor:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;“It doesn’t matter who started the fight. You both were wrong in your own ways. I just want you....”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino;  min-height: 47.0pxcolor:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;“Wait a minute you think I was wrong. Wow! Thats great. That is just amazing.” Ria put down the money for her coffee and walked out of the restaurant.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino;  min-height: 47.0pxcolor:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I could see my self as the 17 year old me, still stuck between two friends. I had no clue what to do now. Ria was my last hope and she refused to listen to me. She had walked out on me. Infact she reacted the same way as the 17 year old Ria would  have reacted. I had no idea I would trigger off the same emotions in Ria that were prevalent when she was 17. I had guessed she had grown out of it. But then I can see I was wrong. I put down my cup of coffee paid the bill and walked out of the coffee shop.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino;  min-height: 47.0pxcolor:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino; color:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino; color:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino; color:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;It has been a week since I met Ria and almost two week since I last met Trisha. I honestly couldn’t meet Trisha after the whole Ria incident. For some strange reason I felt guilty of telling Ria bits a pieces about Trisha. I am sipping my coffee when my phone beeps with a message. It is by Ria. I read it over and over again just to be sure that I was reading right. I messaged back and left the coffee shop with a victory smile on my face. I had not won yet but it was the first step to success. I was going to meet Ria tonight at her place and she wanted to know everything I wanted to tell her that for old times sake. This is what the message read. I was going to preserve the message forever. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino;  min-height: 47.0pxcolor:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;To be continued..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 16.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Zapfino;  min-height: 47.0pxcolor:#929292;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8199770093293088638-4075327791226831072?l=pratsparamita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/feeds/4075327791226831072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2011/01/seven-years-part-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/4075327791226831072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/4075327791226831072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2011/01/seven-years-part-2.html' title='Seven years- Part 2'/><author><name>prats</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10381736533394492904</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SnpbKkldARI/AAAAAAAAAAg/V1LlyznERW0/S220/drumming.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199770093293088638.post-3726879964026840999</id><published>2011-01-01T09:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-01T20:06:31.629-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I have changed!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/TR_5mTA-2pI/AAAAAAAAABY/j7xSGuGH46Y/s1600/home_kids_painting.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/TR_5mTA-2pI/AAAAAAAAABY/j7xSGuGH46Y/s320/home_kids_painting.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557434901533219474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/TR_2D7rOJSI/AAAAAAAAABQ/3b0SPB_KW-8/s1600/home_kids_painting.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Chalkduster, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Georgia, serif;color:#535353;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:-webkit-xxx-large;"&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#535353;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I guess now that I am entering into my last of teens ( yes I am growing old) I want to write more about some serious stuff and not just the normal teenage issues of rejection, first relationship, first crush or further on. Please don't get me wrong I loved writing about all this and will continue with it but with a deeper meaning to it atleast I shall try to add deeper meaning to it. I am changing and so is my blog name. As "My life as a teenager" comes to an end today I want to go back to my first post (which has been deleted by now). I remember sitting on my bed at 2 in the morning and writing it on a crumpled piece of paper and the next day without knowing I had made a blog. Blogging came to me naturally. This is where I was myself and didn't need to worry about what people would think. People read, they commented and encouraged me to write. As months past by "My life as a teenager" grew and I grew with it. It matured in some stages and I matured as a person. "My life as a teenager" taught me how to take criticism, like I have said before I became a new person with every post. Its with a heavy heart that I bid good bye to "My life as a teenager" and a hearty warm welcome to "I paint with words."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;   &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8199770093293088638-3726879964026840999?l=pratsparamita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/feeds/3726879964026840999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-have-changed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/3726879964026840999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/3726879964026840999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-have-changed.html' title='I have changed!'/><author><name>prats</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10381736533394492904</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SnpbKkldARI/AAAAAAAAAAg/V1LlyznERW0/S220/drumming.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/TR_5mTA-2pI/AAAAAAAAABY/j7xSGuGH46Y/s72-c/home_kids_painting.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199770093293088638.post-8384718336810922070</id><published>2010-11-16T07:05:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-16T07:25:17.452-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Seven Years- Part 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Seven years since they last spoke to each other. Seven years since their fight.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Is it time yet? &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Is it the right time to tell her? &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Do u think it will affect her?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Do u think it will bother her today? It has been seven years after all. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Does she even remember her? No, of course she remembers her. It’ll actually be shocking if she has completely forgotten her. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I remember 31&lt;sup&gt;st&lt;/sup&gt; March 2003 as though it was yesterday. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The sun shone brightly in the sky and the 17 year old me had woken upto the chirping birds. I couldn’t wait to get out of bed and hop into the car. Afterall today was the day me, Trisha and Ria were to go on our picnic. A picnic before the dreaded 12&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; std started. Little did I know that this outing would turn out to be a nightmare. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I put on my best pair of jeans with a red top and sneakers. I want to get out of the house as soon as I could. But the glass of milk and bread stopped me in my plans. My mother was one person, who would never let me leave the house on an empty stomach. As a routine to please her and see her ever shining smile I sit down at the table and finish the breakfast. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I reach Ria’s house a little before 9 o’clock. The day seems perfect for the picnic with the sun shining bright in the sky and not a cloud in sight. It seemed to be the perfect day.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Ria, as a habit, was running late and her phone was ringing off the hook with calls only from Trisha. I, sometimes, envied the bond that Trisha and Ria shared. They were the best friends one could ever meet. They knew understood each other well but were as different as chalk and cheese. Ria the perfect supermodel with the world’s best manicured nails and clothes whilst Trisha the captain of the school volleyball team, who had never touched nail paint let alone manicured nails. I guess they say opposites attract. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Ok Ok! We are leaving in two minutes.” Ria entered the room with the phone in one hand and hand sanitizer in the other. Ria took her bag and with a smile said “we better leave before Trisha brings her whole house down.” Within a few minutes we were in the car, driving to Trisha’s place. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;We get down the car and take in the fresh air of the picnic spot. The sun was shining more brightly now. We take our baskets filled with sandwiches and muffins and pick the spot under the tree. Under the shade of the tree we started talking. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“So, from tomorrow we start 12&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; standard. How do u guys feel?” Ria pulled a face and Trisha just smiled. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;After a long pause Trisha said, “I don’t know. I think I am going to miss it after it’s over. You know the being called to principal’s office every day, the volleyball team and of course us.” What do u mean us? We won’t let u miss us.” retorted Ria. “We’ll be right here to remind u that we exist if u forget us. Anyway I have something to tell you guys. I am dating someone since a month.” &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Trisha and I eyed each other with suspicion. Ria’s list of boyfriends were longer than her shopping list and that is saying something. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ignoring our looks Ria continued with her story. “So, I am dating Rahul. He asked me out last month duing our finals and I couldn’t tell you people because we were so busy studying. Anyway, he is so cute no? And I am telling you.......” &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I had lost Ria completely by now as my focus had shifted to Trisha, who looked as though she was experiencing a lot of emotions right now. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I was fervently wishing Ria would stop talking and notice that she had lost Trisha and me by now. I wished Ria would see what I could see right now and what everyone in school thought was true. I had started to realise now that what everyone talked behind Trisha’s back was true. I could see it clearly that she liked Rahul, no matter how much she tried to hide it I could now see it clearly. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Hello? Hello? Ananyaa are you with me? Trisha? Am I talking to myself?” Ria looked annoyed now. She had, as always, expected her friends to be happy for her. I, personally, had no idea whether to be happy or sad.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;After what seemed like an eternity Trisha spoke and could only say, how can you date Rahul? I could see the tears in Trisha’s eyes. Ria was, clearly, not expecting this reaction .&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;“Wha... What do you mean?&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He is a nice guy.” Trisha was shaking with anger now and tears started flowing down her cheek. She spoke through her sobs and all I could comprehend was “Ria I like Rahul. How could u ever do this to me? How can you date him?” &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“But, Trisha I didn’t know you liked him. If I knew..”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“If I knew then what would u have done Ria? You are my best friend I thought you would understand that I like him. I thought you would get it that I like him.” Trisha’s voice had reached a new octave by now. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“What do you expect out of me Trisha? Do you expect me to be a mind reader? If you liked him you should have told me. I am no Psychic you know.” &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“I think its time we left for home. I don’t want to sit here with a friend who betrayed me. A friend who knows she is wrong but will never accept it. Come on Ananyaa.”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Before I could make my mind whether to get up or sit down Ria got up and said, “even I want to go home now. I don’t want to be here. Infact Trisha it would be better if we never spoke again.” &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“I couldn’t agree with you more Ria. Let’s just tolerate each other the way back home. Come on Ananyaa.” &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The way back home seemed longer than ever. I didn’t know how to react to the situation. I was stuck between two friends. I didn’t know who was right and who was wrong. I didn’t know whose side to be on. I could hear my mom’s words clearly now “As you grow up, you will realise sometimes in a fight it’s not one person’s fault.” &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I could see that today. Trisha was right in her own way and so was Ria. I had expected them to start talking by the time we reached home but they didn’t. They didn’t talk the next week. They didn’t talk for the next 7 years. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Today, on the 19&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; of November 2010 I am sitting in my office beyond the working hours. I have a cup of coffee in one hand and the cell phone in the other. I have been staring at the same phone number since the past 5 hours, contemplating whether to call or not. A part of me wants to tell her everything but another part of me is scared what if she doesn’t care anymore?&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;With fumbling fingers I press the green dial button. It was 4 in the morning, a sleepy voice answered my call, “Hullo.” &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Hi Ria. This is Ananyaa.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;To be continued...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8199770093293088638-8384718336810922070?l=pratsparamita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/feeds/8384718336810922070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2010/11/seven-years-part-1_16.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/8384718336810922070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/8384718336810922070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2010/11/seven-years-part-1_16.html' title='Seven Years- Part 1'/><author><name>prats</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10381736533394492904</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SnpbKkldARI/AAAAAAAAAAg/V1LlyznERW0/S220/drumming.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199770093293088638.post-5234766423132482093</id><published>2010-10-17T09:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-17T09:31:41.067-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Untitled</title><content type='html'>Even after reaching the classroom breathless my eyes are searching for you amidst the twenty people present. My heart skips a beat when I spot your wavy black hair. I walk upto my desk in the best possible manner passing by you wishing you would notice me. On the other hand, you are busy cracking a joke with your friends. How is that even when I look my best you don't notice me?&lt;div&gt;Even when I spend an hour getting ready you don't look at me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The teacher enters and class starts. As usual you are called to the front bench. You walk up to the front desk with dreamy eyes and a bored expression on your face. Honestly, would it hurt to pay attention for a while? It would just help you but you are not the kinds. You will sit on the first bench and crack as many jokes as possible. Everyone laughs at them but I wish just once you would turn around and see that I was the one who was laughing the  heartiest. Just once maybe you would notice that when you are flirting with the hottest girl in class a part of me dies. A simple "hi" from you  would make my day but I seem to be Miss Non-existent for you. Why? Oh! Why is the world so mean to me? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well........ seems like a story close to you? In our teenage years, we all have fallen for atleast one guy who has never noticed us. It seems like the end of the world then, but lets sit down and think about it. What if he had said "hi" to you? What if he had complimented you on your looks? What if he turned around and saw you laugh? Do you think you would have gone out with him? Do u think he was the guy to go out with?  For once lets look at the other side. Maybe its better he didn't say hi to you. Maybe its a good thing that you are Miss Non-Existent for him. Maybe he was a guy you wouldn't have liked at all. Think about it what if Mr. Cute  guy in class was Mr.Moron suddenly. Think about it who would you stare at and day dream? Maybe its for your own good that he doesn't notice you. Keep it that way. I, personally, have started believing that every crush doesn't necessarily have to turn into a relationship. Keep it (or rather him :P) as a crush. A crush who you can stare at in a boring lecture. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, Happy crushing to you and me.  =D &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;PS: Need a title for this post! Suggestions are welcomed (rather suggestions are needed). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8199770093293088638-5234766423132482093?l=pratsparamita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/feeds/5234766423132482093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2010/10/untitled.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/5234766423132482093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/5234766423132482093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2010/10/untitled.html' title='Untitled'/><author><name>prats</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10381736533394492904</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SnpbKkldARI/AAAAAAAAAAg/V1LlyznERW0/S220/drumming.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199770093293088638.post-8708929986277094723</id><published>2010-06-07T02:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-07T02:48:04.481-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Disha'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Akanksha'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ujjwal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Vasudha'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sukanya'/><title type='text'>To u and u and Of course U!!</title><content type='html'>When I've lost all hope, you have been the light at the end of the tunnel. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I've cried, you were the tissue.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I've laughed, you were the joke. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When  I've  danced, you were the music&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I wanted advice, you were the agony aunt. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When  I wanted a friend, you were "________  _______"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I couldn't think of only one name here.......... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8199770093293088638-8708929986277094723?l=pratsparamita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/feeds/8708929986277094723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2010/06/when-ive-lost-all-hope-you-have-been.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/8708929986277094723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/8708929986277094723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2010/06/when-ive-lost-all-hope-you-have-been.html' title='To u and u and Of course U!!'/><author><name>prats</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10381736533394492904</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SnpbKkldARI/AAAAAAAAAAg/V1LlyznERW0/S220/drumming.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199770093293088638.post-6993560985132159270</id><published>2010-05-27T02:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T03:35:18.240-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Confessions Of A Broken Writer</title><content type='html'>Sometimes when you study  do the letters or numbers seem like they are dancing? It's not a sign of a budding dancer in you but the sign of you not understanding a word in that subject. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let me introduce you to Miss. XYZ. She's a regular teenage, who goes too school and leads a normal life. It's only when she is studying a particular subject, namely ACCOUNTS, that she starts penning down her thoughts. For days she does this and thinks of it as a budding writer. The writing bit takes up the time when she should  be studying. Oh! Did I mention that she hates the subject? She doesn't understand the logic behind it and feels like tearing the HUGE BOOK apart.  She has no clue about what chapter is being taught is school at the moment. Well... Getting back to the writing part. Days pass by and turn into weeks but she continues to write and doesn't realise that this writing is not going to get her a seat in college. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; One dark morning when she fails in accounts she realises that the writing was indeed a mode of escaping studies and not a natural talent.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Does the story remind you of someone? You? It does.  Yeah....  A Miss. XYZ  does exist in all of us. All of us have done everything except studying our worst subject. Unfortunately, in case of Miss. XYZ she thought it was an actual talent. Now, was it? Or was it just an escape from the subject?  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, the broken writer is confused. So, the next time the words in the Economics book seem like lyrics from a song  ignore it. It's not the budding musician in you. It's just an element of distraction. Get rid of this element as soon as you can. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&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/8199770093293088638-6993560985132159270?l=pratsparamita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/feeds/6993560985132159270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2010/05/confessions-of-broken-writer.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/6993560985132159270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/6993560985132159270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2010/05/confessions-of-broken-writer.html' title='Confessions Of A Broken Writer'/><author><name>prats</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10381736533394492904</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SnpbKkldARI/AAAAAAAAAAg/V1LlyznERW0/S220/drumming.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199770093293088638.post-8042327784974175422</id><published>2010-05-24T20:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-24T21:51:26.029-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kindergarten</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Do you remember the stage in your life when relationships were not defined in a set manner? Do you remember when being friendly with the opposite sex was not considered as "FLIRTING?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;I remember that time. It was called "KINDERGARTEN."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Kindergarten was the time when playing in the mud (some people eating it also :P) was considered fun. It was the time when the world seemed to be painted by taking rainbow as the brush. A for Apple, B for Ball.  It was such a simple life. The greatest tension of one's life then was "tom and jerry missed. hawwww!!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;We grew up and realised that the world is not painted by taking rainbow as the brush. It may be full of these vibrant colours but then it has been splashed with black spots everywhere. we want to believe that one day we will find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. We want to believe that on the eve of Christmas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt; night comes Santa with Rudolph leading the sleigh. But why don't we?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;With this i come back to my first  question why is it that relationships are described in such a set manner? Why is it that rumors bring joy to people? Why is it always he likes her and she lies him? Maybe there is more than liking to any relationship!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;I wish I could go back to kindergarten where liking didn't matter. where"I Love You" meant you are an amazing friend. It was the time when "Flirting" didn't exist. Kindergarten I miss you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;I miss being a kid. I miss believing in Santa. I miss playing in the park. I miss reading noddy and tinkle. I miss those colouring books. I miss you childhood. I genuinely miss you and i wish i coukd have you back in my life. :( &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8199770093293088638-8042327784974175422?l=pratsparamita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/feeds/8042327784974175422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2010/05/kindergarten.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/8042327784974175422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/8042327784974175422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2010/05/kindergarten.html' title='Kindergarten'/><author><name>prats</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10381736533394492904</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SnpbKkldARI/AAAAAAAAAAg/V1LlyznERW0/S220/drumming.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199770093293088638.post-6258669191213066061</id><published>2009-08-02T08:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-02T09:11:37.020-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Emptiness</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Sometimes in life, you become so close to people that you start taking them &lt;/span&gt;for granted and don't realise their value. It is after they leave that we realise how deeply they meant to us. It may not have happened to you but it has happened with me. As a veteran to this situation I wish no one suffers this ever in their life. The empty feeling, the feeling that something very vital is missing and most importantly the feeling of lossing out.&lt;br /&gt;      I have never been a sort of a person who shares deep down very personal feelings with everybody. In my 11th I opened up with those thoughts of mine, which I never share with anyone, to particular 12thies. The whole of 11th I never realised how much they meant to me. I cried when they left and was genuinely sad that they were not going to be around. The sadness never struck me till I entered 12th and after the summer vacations. I always thought its going to be the same whether they are in school or not. It doesnt really matter. We spend half our day in school right? This is the most important fact that i forgot. I go to school, have friends around me  but deep down I feel those two's absence. I have tried getting that close to ohter people but I doubt trust and friendship can ever come forcefully. It only took me some months to open upto both of them. When i sit in school look out in the corridor  I am reminded of tyhose days when I used to sit in the same class but with a very different set of people. The way I was always referred to as  "THE KID". [Yes......... I miss that too..... :(] The way I discussed everything on this earth with no hessitation. The way SARCASM was always understood. I agree i talk to both of them on the phone everyday but the face to face thing is a different thing all together. I dont know whether they feel my absence or not but i do and this absence hurts deep. I MISS YOU GUYS!!!! LOADS!!!!&lt;br /&gt;This is for BOTH of you.&lt;br /&gt;To A: "Jaane Kyun" I Hate(love) you!!!&lt;br /&gt;To S: "Aslam Bhai" I know so much about American Pie because I have an elder  brother, my best friend is a guy and my potential BF is also a guy. *touchwood*&lt;br /&gt;HAPPY FRIENDSHIP'S DAY!!!&lt;br /&gt;PS: This post is not meant to be offending its just the way I feel!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8199770093293088638-6258669191213066061?l=pratsparamita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/feeds/6258669191213066061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2009/08/emptiness.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/6258669191213066061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/6258669191213066061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2009/08/emptiness.html' title='Emptiness'/><author><name>prats</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10381736533394492904</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SnpbKkldARI/AAAAAAAAAAg/V1LlyznERW0/S220/drumming.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199770093293088638.post-2914622878132461711</id><published>2009-07-22T09:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T09:39:53.449-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Maths Class</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;After a week of just sunshine, comes a week of cloudy amazing weather. Okay.....&lt;/span&gt; not amazing but still better. It's The CARMEL FEAST. So, you expect to do SOMETHING FUN in school. Guess what? Your school decides fun for 12th standard is studying MATHS for two BLOODY periods right in the morning. As students,  I am pretty sure you will not define FUN in this manner (unless you are like a geniusin maths). Okay! So your teacher enters class with same look on her face which says , "Time to slaughter." No she is not a cannibal but torturing young adults for two whole periods with "Relations and Phunctions" is murdering them slowly.&lt;br /&gt;Me and S cant handle this right in the morning. So plan made, we will not PAY ANY ATTENTION. We first try and make a plan for Harry Potter 6. We list all the possibilitie, none of them work out. Chuck it! Time to play "cross and nuts". That gets boring so we plan to play the dots thingie. You know where you make dots on the page and then you make square's. Then write your initials on it. Ya..... It's fun(in a maths class only :P). But the dot thingie takes a lot of time to make so we chuck that idea too. Then we do what we do best and the BEST thing to do in a maths class. Write lyrics of songs. Both of us get bored midway ............ so that plan also doesnt work out. The BELL rings..... Yes! Only one more period to go.&lt;br /&gt;The next period starts. The teacher has started suspecting that we are not paying attention so in between we start nodding just to make sure she doesnt suspect anymore. Sister checks the mic, all hopes arise in the room just to be shattered by the announcement that 6th and 7th have been called down for the feast. The rest of the period goes by checking the watch every two seconds, looking for hope from the inercom and listening to "Yam belongs to Yan." Yes..... "M belongs to N."&lt;br /&gt;Yes........ I havent understood a word in the whole class.  The benefit of this:- My blog gets a new post. =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8199770093293088638-2914622878132461711?l=pratsparamita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/feeds/2914622878132461711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2009/07/my-maths-class.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/2914622878132461711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/2914622878132461711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2009/07/my-maths-class.html' title='My Maths Class'/><author><name>prats</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10381736533394492904</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SnpbKkldARI/AAAAAAAAAAg/V1LlyznERW0/S220/drumming.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199770093293088638.post-8471588531645579555</id><published>2009-07-02T01:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T02:24:52.767-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Wandering Teenage Mind</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;It's a bright and sunny morning again. You wake up early to study Maths. But guess what? You are a teenager and you have an extremely wandering mind. You wake up, brush your teeth  and sit down to read the newspaper. Oh My God!! The recent much talked about celebrity couple has broken up! Yes!! Yes!!! If you are a girl the first thought that crosses your mind is to go and meet the male celebrity.  There goes your wandering mind. It starts it's job of day dreaming. You dream about the male celebrity for a good half an hour. Well...... If you are like me I am considering your mind will also start forming opinions about the sports stars. Especially about "certain players" dressed as marching band members to play WIMBLEDON.  Oh! Give me a break! After a good hour and half hour of forming opinions and day dreaming you sit down for breakfast. Food is IMPORTANT okay.  Then you see the computer. I had to download that song and check facebook    ( oh! please like someone has written on your wall in the past 8 or 9 hours of sleep that you got). Again if you are like me you have to beat your high score on that game. You sit down for like 3 to 4 hours doing ABSOLUTELY useless stuff on the computer. Ironical, you know that what you are doing is ABSOLUTELY WORTHLESS but you keep on doing it. When your mom starts giving you those murderous looks you realise its time to take a bath. Since you have nothing better to do you spend an hour taking a bath. By the time you are out of the loo, it's time for lunch. You slowly and steadily eat it. After all, you were taught as a kid that slow and steady wins the race. After lunch you go and place yourself in front of the couch to watch Television. You are surfing through the channels with the same words on your lips for every channel.... WORTHLESS. At last you find something to watch. you start watching Wimbledon and simultaneously message people. While watching Wimbledon the only thought you have in your mind is&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Only if only I could play like that. You pick yourself from the couch to go and listen to music. Oh! By the way the same song became irritating yesterday because you heard it so MANY TIMES. When music gets boring,  you go and watch T.V. and then dinner. Finally Off &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember something?? You woke up early to study.Did that happen in the whole day? Did that particular thought cross your mind even once? let me answer those two questions for you its a BIG NO!!&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/8199770093293088638-8471588531645579555?l=pratsparamita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/feeds/8471588531645579555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2009/07/wandering-teenage-mind.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/8471588531645579555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/8471588531645579555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2009/07/wandering-teenage-mind.html' title='A Wandering Teenage Mind'/><author><name>prats</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10381736533394492904</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SnpbKkldARI/AAAAAAAAAAg/V1LlyznERW0/S220/drumming.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199770093293088638.post-494197425927223894</id><published>2009-06-21T07:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T08:33:44.119-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Aanchal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Disha'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Akanksha'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Prerna'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ujjwal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Vasudha'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sukanya'/><title type='text'>ITS Totally me :)</title><content type='html'>[x] yourself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOUR BOY SIDE—&lt;br /&gt;[x] You love hoodies.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You love jeans.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Dogs are better than cats.&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[ I love  cats too...... totally CONFUSED]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] It’s hilarious when people get hurt.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Shopping is torture.&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[Definitely if you go with my mom]&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] Sad movies stink. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You own a car racing game.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You played with Hot Wheels cars as a kid. &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[Tell me someone who hasnt, except DQ]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] At some point in time you wanted to be a fire-fighter.&lt;br /&gt;[] You owned a DS, PS2, N64,or Sega.&lt;br /&gt;[] You used to be obsessed with Power Rangers.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You have watched sports on TV.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Gory movies are cool.&lt;br /&gt;[] You go to your dad for advice.&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[This is not possible]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] You own like a trillion baseball caps.&lt;br /&gt;[] You used to collect hockey cards&lt;br /&gt;[x] Baggy sweats are cool to wear.&lt;br /&gt;[] It’s kinda weird to have sleepovers with a bunch of people.&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[ Are you crazy its loads of fun]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] Green, black, red, blue, or silver are one of your favorite colors.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You love to go crazy and not care what people think.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Sports are fun.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You talk with food in your mouth.&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[ Loads of times and scolded by mom too]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You sleep with your socks on at night. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] You have fished at least once&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOUR GIRL SIDE—&lt;br /&gt;[] You love to shop.&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[Umm..... NO!!!]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] You wear eyeliner.&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt; [ Does kohl come here??? :P]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] You wear the color pink.&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[ YUCK!!! NO!!!] &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You go to your mom to talk. &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[ DUH!!! She is like my bestest adviser......] &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] You consider cheerleading a sport.&lt;br /&gt;[] You hate wearing the color black.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You like going to the mall. &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[ In mumbai yes cos of those video game parlours!!! YEAH!!]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[]You like getting manicures and/or pedicures.&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[Never got them done and no plans at the moment.]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You like wearing jewelry&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;.&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[ Acessories FREAK] &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You cried watching The Notebook.&lt;br /&gt;[] Skirts are a big part of your wardrobe.&lt;br /&gt;[] Shopping is one of your favorite hobbies.&lt;br /&gt;[] You don’t like the movie Star Wars.&lt;br /&gt;[] You are/were in gymnastics. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] It takes you around one hour to shower, get dressed, and make-up.&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[ cos i sit in the room and day dream]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You smile a lot more than you should.&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[ Always]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You have more than 10 pairs of shoes. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You care about what you look like. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] You like wearing dresses when you can.&lt;br /&gt;[] You like wearing high heel shoes.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You used to play with dolls as little kid.&lt;br /&gt;[] You like putting make-up on others.&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[HATE.MAKE.UP.]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] You like being the star of everything. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] Pink is one of your favourite colors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Appearance •&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I am shorter than 5′5″. &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[ I think so.... :/]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I have many scars. &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[ YES and all cos of my BRO!!!]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I tan/ burn easily.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I wish my hair was a different color.&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[DUH!! i want to die them navy blue  and get silver streaks]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I have friends who have never seen my natural hair color.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I have a tattoo.&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[ Had a temprorary one]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I am self-conscious about my appearance.&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[My mom is concious about mine though]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve had/have braces.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been told I’m attractive by a complete stranger. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I have more than two piercings.&lt;br /&gt;[] I have / had piercings in places besides my ears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Embarrassment •&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve slipped out a “lol” in a spoken conversation. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] Disney movies still make me cry. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve snorted while laughing. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve laughed so hard I’ve cried.&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt; [i glued my hands to each other]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve glued my hand to something.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve laughed ’til some kind of beverage came out of my nose.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve had my pants rip in public. &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[ Are you CRAZY??]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Health •&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve gotten stitches.&lt;br /&gt;[] Broken a bone.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve had my tonsils removed&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve sat in a doctor’s office with a friend.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve had my wisdom teeth removed.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve had serious surgery. &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[ almost]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve had chicken pox.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Traveling •&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve driven / riden over 200 miles in one day.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been to Canada.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been to Cuba.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been to Niagara Falls.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been to Ottawa.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve gone to Sudbury.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been to the Caribbean.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been to Europe.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been to Florida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Experiences •&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve gotten lost in my city.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve seen a shooting star.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve wished on a shooting star.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve seen a meteor shower.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve gone out in public in my pyjamas.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve pushed all the buttons on an elevator.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve kicked a guy where it hurts. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been to a casino. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been skydiving. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve gone skinny-dipping. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve drank a whole gallon of milk in one hour. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve crashed a car.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been skiing. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been in a musical. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve caught a snowflake or snow on my tongue.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve seen the Northern Lights. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve sat on a rooftop at night.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve played a prank on someone.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve ridden in a taxi.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve eaten Sushi.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been snowboarding. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Relationships •&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’m single. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[ I think I am kinda committed]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’m in a relationship.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’m engaged.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’m married.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I miss someone right now.&lt;br /&gt;[ ] I’ve gotten divorce.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve told someone I loved them when I didn’t.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve told someone I didn’t love them when I did.&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[ And it was for a good reason]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Honesty / Crime •&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve done something I promised someone else I wouldn’t. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve done something I promised myself I wouldn’t.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve snuck out.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve lied to my parents about where I am.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve cheated while playing a game.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve ran a red light.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve witnessed a crime.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve been in a fist fight.&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[ Ya and won also okay he let me win!!!]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been arrested.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Death and Suicide •&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’m afraid of dying. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I hate funerals. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve seen someone / something dying.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Someone close to me has attempted / committed suicide.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve written a eulogy for myself. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Materialism •&lt;br /&gt;[] I own over 5 rap CD’s.&lt;br /&gt;[] I have an unhealthy obsession with anime&lt;br /&gt;[] I own REAL designer purses, costing over $100 a piece.&lt;br /&gt;[] I own something from Pac Sun.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I collected comic books.&lt;br /&gt;[] I own something from The Gap.&lt;br /&gt;[] I own something I got on E-Bay.&lt;br /&gt;[] I own something from Abercrombie. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Random •&lt;br /&gt;[x] I can sing well.&lt;br /&gt;[] Stolen a tray from a fast food restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;[] I open up to others easily. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I watch the news. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I don’t kill bugs&lt;br /&gt;[x] I sing in the shower.&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[Always. ALWAYS!]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I am a morning person. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I paid for my cell phone ring tone.&lt;br /&gt;[] I am a sports fanatic.&lt;br /&gt;[] I twirl my hair.&lt;br /&gt;[x I care about grammar. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I have “?”’s in my screen name.&lt;br /&gt;[] I love spam.&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve copied more than 30 CD’s in a day.&lt;br /&gt;[] I bake well. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] My favorite color is either white, yellow, pink, red, blue, black, purple, or orange.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I would wear pajamas to school.&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt; [if they allow me to.]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I know how to shoot a gun.&lt;br /&gt;[] I am guilty of tYpInG lIkE tHiS...EvErY nOw AnD tHeN. &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;[ I hate people who type like this!!!]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I laugh at my own jokes&lt;br /&gt;[] I eat fast food weekly.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve not turned anything in and still got an A in a certain class. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I can’t sleep if there is a spider in the room.&lt;br /&gt;[] I am really ticklish.&lt;br /&gt;[] I like white chocolate.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I bite my nails.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’m good at remembering faces.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’m good at remembering names.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’m good at remembering dates. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I honestly have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life.&lt;br /&gt;[x] All my answers were totally honest. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8199770093293088638-494197425927223894?l=pratsparamita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/feeds/494197425927223894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2009/06/its-toitally-me.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/494197425927223894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/494197425927223894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2009/06/its-toitally-me.html' title='ITS Totally me :)'/><author><name>prats</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10381736533394492904</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SnpbKkldARI/AAAAAAAAAAg/V1LlyznERW0/S220/drumming.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199770093293088638.post-3478818184917998886</id><published>2009-06-13T04:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T05:07:33.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FINALLY- My summer VACATIONS START!!!</title><content type='html'>Finaly,  the hectic schedule of attending tuitions is getting over. All the time running around, doing homework is finally coming to an end on the 13th of JUNE. Yes.....Now I can finally say MY summer VACAYIONS haver STARTED!!!! Yes... I will still hav eco tuitions twice a week but its only twice a week ya!! Now, I can sleep the whole day, OH! I am also  going for a holiday to MUMBAI! YEAH!!! My much awaited holiday is finally taking place now. For most people 13th is an unlucky unlucky date but for me its very lucky. My Accounts tuition got over on 11th JUNE. My Maths tuition got over today and I am also donbe with my theory exam. Now, for a week I am off to Mumbai, visiting Essel WORLD anbd many other places. Then i will fullfill my quota of SLEEPING day in and day out. Of course in between all this I will take out time generously for my ACCOUNTA project and the SO-CALLED semester test of my ECO tuition. All in all its the start of my vacations.  YEAH!!! :)&lt;br /&gt;P.s.: yesterday my blog turned two months old!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8199770093293088638-3478818184917998886?l=pratsparamita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/feeds/3478818184917998886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2009/06/finally-my-summer-vacations-start.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/3478818184917998886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/3478818184917998886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2009/06/finally-my-summer-vacations-start.html' title='FINALLY- My summer VACATIONS START!!!'/><author><name>prats</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10381736533394492904</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SnpbKkldARI/AAAAAAAAAAg/V1LlyznERW0/S220/drumming.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199770093293088638.post-3692369889332251837</id><published>2009-06-01T05:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T06:07:14.817-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A True Tennis Fan</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SiPSDUIT0KI/AAAAAAAAAAU/rbe7ntacPcY/s1600-h/Novak.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 228px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SiPSDUIT0KI/AAAAAAAAAAU/rbe7ntacPcY/s320/Novak.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342344537376542882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SiPRjqx2tiI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Ntfpzyxl8A/s1600-h/RafaelNadal18.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SiPRjqx2tiI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Ntfpzyxl8A/s320/RafaelNadal18.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342343993700562466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if Nadal loses Wimbledon, I  will still watch tennis. Even if, Djokovic doesn't play great I will still watch tennis. Even if Federer, Roddick or Murray win French Open, I will still watch tennis. Stunned ao to WHY? I will watch the game because I love the game and don't watch it for the players. Even if all my teenage life I have supported Rafael Nadal I will still watch the French Open, just to see who wins and how everyone is playing.  5 reason's why I consider myself a true TENNIS FAN:-&lt;br /&gt;I) I do no give justifications or petty excuses as a supporter of a player for her?his loss. The reason is simple s?he didnt play well, so didnt win. Not because they were ill or ANOTHER PLAYER PHOBIA!!!!&lt;br /&gt;II) I watch the game for it's rallies and not for the ACE'S!! The rallies, the running, the slam shots and the agression makes tge game click for me.&lt;br /&gt;III) The player I support does not cry when he loses in the grand slam which is considered his and his alone.&lt;br /&gt;IV) I do not switch off the television when my favourite player is losing.&lt;br /&gt;V) I graciously and calmly accept the defeat  of my favourite player.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, there were promises I made to myself after Nadal los. These promises were:-&lt;br /&gt;If Federer wins:- I will not watch any grand slam.&lt;br /&gt;If Murray wins:- I will not watch tennis at all. Be it Grand Slam or ATP masters. \&lt;br /&gt;If Roddick wins:- The word "tennis" doesn't exist in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If Soderling wins:- I will continue to watch tennis the way I do.  Oh! Come on Nadal fans accept it he was good, real good.  For some reason Nadal was not better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would  as a tennis watcher love to see Robin Soderling come up but a a Nadal fan would not like him to come up.  Two contradictory  thoughts together in a mind can be very disstressing!!!! I will forever love tennis. And it will be a Novak v/s Rafael final in Wimbledon. You just wait and watch!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8199770093293088638-3692369889332251837?l=pratsparamita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/feeds/3692369889332251837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2009/06/true-tennis-fan.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/3692369889332251837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/3692369889332251837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2009/06/true-tennis-fan.html' title='A True Tennis Fan'/><author><name>prats</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10381736533394492904</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SnpbKkldARI/AAAAAAAAAAg/V1LlyznERW0/S220/drumming.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SiPSDUIT0KI/AAAAAAAAAAU/rbe7ntacPcY/s72-c/Novak.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199770093293088638.post-8159437622344180404</id><published>2009-05-14T09:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T09:47:52.444-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Vacations- Ya Right</title><content type='html'>On the 12th of May 2009, the thought of summer vacations croses a 17 year old's mind. Yes...... finally no more studying day in and day out for horrible Unit Tests. Okay! Atleast for two months not studying. Well thats what you think. Wait till the evening. You have an amazing time  on net, watching T.V. and listening to your I-POD. Oh! And also take a bath for an hour.  Afterall, you have all the time in the world for the next month and half. Again, thats what you think!! Wait till "SUMMER VACATIONS" become the worst nitghtmare instead of a long awaited sweet dream!!&lt;br /&gt;    At four you realise,  I should probably lift myself up from the couch and go for tuition.  Afterall, it's only a harmless two hours of accounts tuition. With a lot of effort  and cribbing, you start walking mindlessly to the  tuition center.  Just then at the tuition center, your "so called VACATIONS  come to an end. As soon as the words summer Vacations started reaches my tuition teacher's  ears he announce's a test. We have to do two and half chapters by next week.  Now if that wasnt enough we will most probably hav classes 5 days  a week conssecutively and most probably early morning. Ah! Back to school! Oh! And out of sympathy he is going to give us the weekends off! WOAH! :O Isn't he sweet?&lt;br /&gt;12th May 9:30 A.M. Summer vacations start&lt;br /&gt;12th May 4:35 P.M. Summer vacations come to an end :(&lt;br /&gt;   You had planned to watch movies, sleep like a maniac and probably eat but guess what your schedule's like:&lt;br /&gt;13Th June: Music Theory Exam { You are giving Grade 4 and you dont know a NOTE}&lt;br /&gt;16Th May: Economics Tuition Test { Already hav a test pendiong there}&lt;br /&gt;17Th May: Maths Tuition Test&lt;br /&gt;     And this is the starting of vacations. OH! And my maths tuition teacher also plans to take consecutive classes for two or three weeks in the morning. (Maybe) Well..... I guess now it's time to say "HAPPY HOLIDAYS"&lt;br /&gt;P.S. : A and S be happy . Nazar lag gayi mere luck ko tum dono ki!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8199770093293088638-8159437622344180404?l=pratsparamita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/feeds/8159437622344180404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2009/05/summer-vacations-ya-right.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/8159437622344180404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/8159437622344180404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2009/05/summer-vacations-ya-right.html' title='Summer Vacations- Ya Right'/><author><name>prats</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10381736533394492904</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SnpbKkldARI/AAAAAAAAAAg/V1LlyznERW0/S220/drumming.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199770093293088638.post-5719216247045762984</id><published>2009-05-12T01:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T02:02:50.993-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Multiplex Owners V/s Producers: A Boon Or A Bane</title><content type='html'>The much talked about news nowadays is not the elections but the fight between the multiplex owners and producers. Oh! Its earth shattering that since almost two weeks or so no new hindi movie has released. My God! Thats a bad news for movie buffs like me. But guess what? I think its a boon. Surprised!! Well it all started with me not deciding to watch movies (except Harry Potter-6) during this crucial board year of my life. The same Friday no new movie reaches the PVR's. WOW! Am I not lucky? Since that week no new movie has released, which I would die to watch. Yeah!! OK! PLease seriously stop cursing me. I did not wish that movies stop releasing at all. Okay maybe i just prayed that no "OH MY GOD!! AMAZING  MUST WATCH MOVIES" release this year. Now I did not want the bliss of watching STUPID movies be taken from you guys.&lt;br /&gt; I feel really sorry for all the people who passed 10Th and 12Th in march 2009. No mivoes to watch na...... Tsk Tsk. Still remains a boon for me. I hope this continues for a long time.&lt;br /&gt;P.S.: Don't Be JEALOUS of my LUCK!!!!! Nazar mat lagao.... :P&lt;br /&gt;By the way my baby(blog) turned a month old!!! YEAH!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8199770093293088638-5719216247045762984?l=pratsparamita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/feeds/5719216247045762984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2009/05/multiplex-owners-vs-producers-boon-or.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/5719216247045762984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/5719216247045762984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2009/05/multiplex-owners-vs-producers-boon-or.html' title='Multiplex Owners V/s Producers: A Boon Or A Bane'/><author><name>prats</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10381736533394492904</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SnpbKkldARI/AAAAAAAAAAg/V1LlyznERW0/S220/drumming.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8199770093293088638.post-2802772028778223616</id><published>2009-04-20T06:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T07:25:02.044-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I-POD'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='studying'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CEll Phone'/><title type='text'>Teenager Studying or Just Me?</title><content type='html'>Have you ever wondered why all the random thoughts come while studying? Wondering what kind of random thoughts? Well...........those thoughts which will not matter to you even in a million years (i.e. if you are alive). Don't get offensive I was just being realistic :P.&lt;br /&gt;    I sit down before my eco notes trying to study for this "ultra-important" tuition test.  Obviously its "ultra-important" test because it was the first test I was giving, I had to prove I know eco and not a DHUD!!! But my mind has other plans for me  that night. I have an hour long uninterrupted messaging with 4 people simultaneously. Why does messaging people not strike me when i am cribbing about getting bored? It is only during study time that the cell phone seems like an OSCAR ....... no better GRAMMY which needs to be shown off. Obviously... messaging people does show that you own a cell phone so "show off" ( ya... I am one). After a good session of messaging I should be refreshed and get back to studying. But no....... my eyes fall on the really cool grey I-POD sitting on the bed. Thats it.... there goes the eco notes.....here comes the I-POD. Search........ Search..... Search....... OH! Come on out of 500 (technically471) songs at least one must be worth listening. Eventhough i won't be listening to more than a stanza of every song....... I will still listen and not study. Okay! I-Pod gets boring. Now the convincing starts. I try to convince myself to study but just then my wandering eyes catch a glimpse of the LANDLINE.  The landline is not an oscar, its an angel sent from heaven.  An invisible force pulls me towards it, I start pressing numbers . Tring...... Tring...... Madam sleepy head picks up the phone. So, I like a good soul let her continue her beauty sleep. So what if she is sleeping i press more numbers and talk to someone else for an hour.  It's one in the night and realisation finally strikes me when i see a message which reads "Only PPC left...... Will do it tomorrow morning". And that idiot has his exam at 12 and I have it at 9! Like a shameless fool I tell myself "better late than never Prats."  Welcome back eco notes...... I start cramming them...... Well thats what our education system demands right? Atleast CBSE does. TICK TOCK.......... TICK TOCK............. time is slowing down. Who said time flies?  Have you noticed while texting, listening to music and talking on the phone the clock seems invisible? Its only while studying that it becomes visible and the TICK TOCK seema like blaring music.&lt;br /&gt;      The alarm rings. OH NO!!! It's 8:00 in the morning and test is in an hour.  When did I sleep? I was supposed to study the whole night. What happened to that plan? So...... Is this just me or a normal teenager studying? I guess it's an average teenager studying. Come on .... people lets take the blame together. PLEASE&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8199770093293088638-2802772028778223616?l=pratsparamita.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/feeds/2802772028778223616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2009/04/teenager-studying-or-just-me.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/2802772028778223616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8199770093293088638/posts/default/2802772028778223616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pratsparamita.blogspot.com/2009/04/teenager-studying-or-just-me.html' title='Teenager Studying or Just Me?'/><author><name>prats</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10381736533394492904</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6LT9NZ-SeCg/SnpbKkldARI/AAAAAAAAAAg/V1LlyznERW0/S220/drumming.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
