kuch panne zindgi ke....

My friend says “she hates him” “Hatred” an interesting thing which is hovering in my mind since then. The origin of detest has to be something miraculous. There are two kinds of reactions generally, one is I like it and other is I don’t like it. “I hate it” is a strong remark which leave bunch of queries in mind. Usually we accustomed to indifferent towards the anonymous. We can not like them but we can’t just hate. The hate indicates your relation with the person in a sublime way. I believe that love is omnipresent. Happiness and grief, day and night, good and bad are not opposite to each other rather complementary to each other. Each one is incomplete without the other as a man and woman, yin and yang. Hence I reached on the conclusion that the foundation of hate must be vehement love. Although to understand love is as obscure as the other mystic phenomenon of nature like death. I’ve discovered that this divine feeling has managed to maintain its reverence and enigmatic aura which is

How often we get delighted by hearing the word of praise for ourselves. I can not say the same for everyone but yes, I feel that for all these years I’ve been slave of others remark. Be it my friends, family or anonymous. Why I wanted my friends to read my blogs and comment for it. It is kind of tacit agreement that the remarks have to be in my favor. What if they ignored, did not bother to read it with this much interest and took a trouble to post their comment in an articulate manner. Or what if they have disparaged me by being euphemistically critic, “These were the contemptuous emotions which seem specious but hardly have any importance in practical life rather they kill the valuable time which you could have used in some other constructive work”. Or what if castigated it by throwing harsh comment like "bullshit!” I would have definitely perturbed and felt uneasy. I might have taken vow whatsoever will happen I’ll never indulge myself in writing again. Though I personally love

‘He’ was leaving for Delhi . 15 aug ’05. A beautiful morning with a feel of freedom for each citizen. Usually monsoon mornings in Mumbai are very charming and energetic. It fills u with joy and brings smile just for no reason. I woke up early and finished my work and incidentally dressed up nicely. I had a look in the mirror, whenever I look in the mirror instant phrase which comes in my mind is “how cute!” Not for me but for the creator. Whenever we praise or curse ourselves it directly goes for the one who created us. I wonder what Aishwarya Rai must be thinking while checking out herself. ‘He’ came to visit his girlfriend, meanwhile he met me too as I was listed in his so called very good friend list. His train was from bandra terminus and I had no plan to go to see off him but somewhere in my heart there was profound desire to see him once before he leave Mumbai. My mom suddenly asked me if I was going to visit siddhivinayak temple that day. I gave a startled look at her and I don’

Still remember the night when you called.  Hissing of wind and airplane's roar,  Peeping your love behind your anger,  I've so much in that night to treasure.  Still visualise that small bridge,  beautiful, surrounded by trees,  Narrating the stories of our intimacy,  And longing to see us together again.  Dazzling still, those sparkles of stars,  Still remember the night when you called.  Walking miles with dreams in eyes,  That narrow wall and vivacious talks,  Your falling down and our laugh.  Throwing stone to hit the pole,  simulating as a winner of the whole.  Those efforts to win at any cost,  Still remember the pace of days.  Sit around a corner and wonder,  Why the love remain ephemeral.  Nights are dark and days are darker,  Eyes are vacant and I'm in slammer.  Trying to pick out pieces of heart,  Still remember the night when you called.  Still feel the caress in hair,  The tender touch and dissolving fear.  The headache was no longer prevail,  As I had been ther