<?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-30956527</id><updated>2012-02-01T10:46:29.619+05:30</updated><title type='text'>hither-tither</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>181</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-2527010000279453793</id><published>2012-02-01T09:56:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2012-02-01T10:42:36.280+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A story..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I love beautiful pictures. And I just don't love anything but usually the ones connected to everyday lives, laughter, smiles, close ups.. &lt;a href="http://www.chaikidukaan.com/"&gt;His&lt;/a&gt; is the kind of photography I relate to, it is so everyday and relatable and obviously beautiful. So one day while going through his pictures, I got so inspired that I decided to write my first ever story, based on one of his pictures. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, while I do read a lot of fiction, I am extremely poor in attempting to pen one but nonetheless, I will give it a shot. So here it goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cGRd2IqoNQU/TyjBZibrAVI/AAAAAAAAAEY/Atz8CHVHIW8/s1600/kashi-2007-6602.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704021572548493650" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cGRd2IqoNQU/TyjBZibrAVI/AAAAAAAAAEY/Atz8CHVHIW8/s320/kashi-2007-6602.jpg" style="display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 214px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;One early morning while wandering through the by lanes of a popular ghaat (riverbank), I came across this colourful astrologer sitting majestically beneath his thatched umbrella on a raised platform. He was in his full ensemble with a white dhoti kurta and a forehead covered with freshly applied sandal wood paste. He exuded certain grandeur and gave the impression of a man with knowledge and skills. The way he sat with one arm on the back rail and the other on his knee stirred confidence within the observer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unable to resist my urge to know of my future and taken in with the whole façade and his demeanor, I decided to pay him a visit. Outside the board read, “50 rupaye mein apna bhavishya jaane” (know your future in rupees 50) and so I promptly went in. He ran his gaze from my head to toe, probably not used to seeing girls in denims/ tees with a big bag that I think he suspected with a lot of money. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did my Namaste, sat down before him and gave him my best possible smile which obviously failed to hit its mark. He asked me what I wanted to know and I replied very lamely, “my future.” The look I next got was that of a moron being asked, “what in future, marriage, children, money, health…”, to which my reply was work. He gave me a sneer and said, “so you need to know about money na!!” and I argued back, “NO!! I want to know if I will be able to achieve what I want in my life and that money will follow.” I think I lost him in translation but understandably he did not want to give up and lose his 50 bucks so he tells me “you will get married this year.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time “I” gave him a sneer, groped for the money I owed him and walked away handing it to him. How stupid I was..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good, bad, whatever, this is it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: It is fiction and nothing else. The picture is the property of Prashant Bhardwaj and must NOT be used anywhere without his permission, I took one..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-2527010000279453793?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/2527010000279453793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=2527010000279453793' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2527010000279453793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2527010000279453793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2012/02/i-love-beautiful-pictures.html' title='A story..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cGRd2IqoNQU/TyjBZibrAVI/AAAAAAAAAEY/Atz8CHVHIW8/s72-c/kashi-2007-6602.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-6299183122521982216</id><published>2012-01-25T13:16:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-25T13:21:20.530+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Loss of direction..</title><content type='html'>The happy feeling has dissipated and instead is replaced by this ominous, scary bobbing of my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I wonder again where I am headed..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-6299183122521982216?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/6299183122521982216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=6299183122521982216' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6299183122521982216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6299183122521982216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2012/01/loss-of-direction.html' title='Loss of direction..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-859215913659222418</id><published>2012-01-18T10:12:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-18T10:17:14.767+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Opening up and trying..</title><content type='html'>At work today while trying to meet a deadline, I almost lost my temper at somebody but decided to keep quiet. I just nodded, shrugged my shoulders and left the place. This is not my usual style of responding to situations that upset me; I am extremely impulsive and react to things the very moment. Not saying that that I am very efficient, but I am organized and I do not look for shortcuts to resolve problems and that’s a trait that bugs me about people, especially in my line of work where you are heading for a disaster if you are not planned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, the point I am trying to make here is that I feel myself changed after being here for two years. I have learnt to control my temper (the hardest way possible) and to keep my mouth shut in most of the situations and I feel good about it now. I can be arguing with a person on email and would be joking with the same when I come across him/ her right then. I’ve understood not to take things personally and appreciate that work is just that. I have become calmer and less restless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And another thing has changed. Earlier, I was reluctant to do anything apart from footwear, I felt that it was my calling and I wouldn’t be as good at anything. Then with the footwear market diminishing due to the removal of anti dumping duties in China, I was practically forced to get into home products and I opposed fiercely. I would shrug off things to do in that category but constant push made me give in and I began doing it. Beginning from making a total fool of myself before suppliers and buyers alike, to telling them beforehand that I didn’t know anything to finally grasping the product and now even working out costing, I’ve come a long way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has made me realize that I can virtually do anything if I make up my mind and the moment I begin to understand it, I start loving it. In fact, now this attitude applies to a lot of spheres in life. It is mostly a question of knowing something and before long you’ll begin to like it because nothing can be bad without any good into it. It has given me so much confidence in myself, the belief that I will definately have a career path later in life because it wouldn’t matter what I am doing, and eventually I will learn and love it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel free now and less scared of what future holds..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-859215913659222418?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/859215913659222418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=859215913659222418' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/859215913659222418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/859215913659222418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2012/01/opening-up-and-trying.html' title='Opening up and trying..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-6020107763592408746</id><published>2012-01-11T11:41:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-11T12:20:51.400+05:30</updated><title type='text'>All in little time..</title><content type='html'>I seriously can't afford to take this kind of time out of work right now but the urge is too huge to ignore, so here I go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am feeling weird right now. I mean it's kind of sadist of me to feel happy about (what I am assuming)how it ended. I may even call it sickening but I just do not feel any guilt. It's difficult to explain but I'll try. I know what I am feeling is horrible, pathetic and disgusting and I am trying to feel bad about it, only because I am supposed to. In reality, I feel smug, even arrogant and strangely satisfied. On the hindsight, the very same,or even worst can happen to me. It's so confusing to oscillate between feeling happy/guilty and scared, all at once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing that I need to vent out: why can't people from my past just let my family and me be. They should just ignore that we exist and if somebody asks of us, simply say that they do not know us; I am sure my family would do the same. I think all relationships have a certain amount or sanctity and by talking ill of them, you just destroy even the nicer bits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all I got time for today..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-6020107763592408746?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/6020107763592408746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=6020107763592408746' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6020107763592408746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6020107763592408746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2012/01/all-in-little-time.html' title='All in little time..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-4257308138417155913</id><published>2012-01-04T11:50:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-04T12:03:56.320+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Starting on a happy note..</title><content type='html'>Lately I’ve been writing a lot and that too not in my usual two liner style but with a lot of explanations and content (maybe not) and that’s how it will be for a while (again, maybe not). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good news is that the last day last year was maybe one of the nicest I had. It was simple, I felt loved and cared for and that was all I could have asked. The trip was brilliant and I came back with little moments that I would hold close. After last year’s fiasco, I have a strange feeling that God is trying to make up for all the hard times that he has shown me (or is it just my arrogance).  I also realize that time can heal so much and how I’ve always underestimated it.  I feel very positive about the coming year on the personal front and I am at my securest and best behavior when I feel loved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The end of the year saw me connecting with a lot of old friends. We did catch up once in a while but the heart to heart we had in our last meeting/ chat brought us closer. It was as if that bond which was not strong ever suddenly had some sort of tensile strength. I was also surprised to know that while I thought that the whole world was against me and all my friends gossiping about me, the fact was that they were concerned but never knew how to show. I had cocooned myself for a while now and it’s nice to come out and breathe.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the negative side, I NEED to change my place of work. I’ve been told by a friend that getting good people/ good pay and good work is a myth and they can never happen simultaneously but things are at an odd now. While I just love my work, and the people might not be that bad either but I can see no growth at all. No matter how long hours I put in, the credit goes to somebody else and not getting acknowledged of what you’ve done is something I detest. Also, the pay isn’t that great when I compare it to the market standards and though it’s something I can ignore but this feeling of claustrophobia of not being able to speak for what’s rightfully mine is overwhelming. I am oscillating between sticking to this place where I’ve found a sort of comfort zone to risking it all for some newness and maybe more money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just cannot shirk of this sense of feeling happy about this year, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt like that and I just pray to God to please please let it stay..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-4257308138417155913?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/4257308138417155913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=4257308138417155913' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4257308138417155913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4257308138417155913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2012/01/starting-on-happy-note.html' title='Starting on a happy note..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-3687223745534138240</id><published>2011-12-28T15:19:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2011-12-28T15:25:00.485+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Signs of “growing up”..</title><content type='html'>This is not pessimism that is making me write below, just pure observation and thought..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- You don’t feel like going to the boisterous favourite club of yours; rather prefer a quiet place with a few close friends.&lt;br /&gt;- Your circle of friends minimizes to a dot (well, mostly).&lt;br /&gt;- There are tons of people online and none of them interests you to begin a chat with.&lt;br /&gt;- Most of the holidays are spent going home rather than a vacation.&lt;br /&gt;- The invites you receive are mostly from married people celebrating their anniversaries or their kid’s birthdays.&lt;br /&gt;- You need a reason to laugh.&lt;br /&gt;- You begin to understand the deal about solitary walks or alone time having coffee.&lt;br /&gt;- When all younger people seem silly to you.&lt;br /&gt;- When you want to dress up to feel young.&lt;br /&gt;- The shop that begins to interest you more is Marks and Spencer’s instead of Punk.&lt;br /&gt;- When you begin to turn around looking for the source of that loud laughter instead of minding your own business.&lt;br /&gt;- You begin to feel less or no guilt about the things that would have killed you earlier.&lt;br /&gt;- And when you begin to look back at school or college and get nostalgic about the days..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And since this happens to be the last post of the year, I couldn't be signing off without a BIG Happy New Year to everybody. May this year see all your wishes coming true- good, bad and the ugly ones too, till then..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-3687223745534138240?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/3687223745534138240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=3687223745534138240' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/3687223745534138240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/3687223745534138240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/12/signs-of-growing-up.html' title='Signs of “growing up”..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-8903060467150904061</id><published>2011-12-21T23:01:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2011-12-21T23:04:36.859+05:30</updated><title type='text'>In the name of equality..</title><content type='html'>I often read stuff on women equality and the likes and witness every other day how it is snatched/ hampered and how women are the only ones (usually) who make sacrifices.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been brought up in a family where women dominate the scene. My mother, though a housewife is one of the strongest lady I have come across and she has brought us in a very similar fashion, hugely contributing to my personality. We have been allowed to pursue the careers we have wanted, make our own decisions but never spoilt. My father told us early on never to expect any support from him where our education was concerned, no donations/ no recommendations. Also, because he was always travelling when we were young and limited means at our disposal, we had to do pretty much everything on our own. My mother did have to turn a deaf ear to the family when we went out to parties and had male friends but she was adamant to give us the maximum exposure possible and never feel threatened by the male specie. And because of the trust they invested in us, we have always known our boundaries and where to limit ourselves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I happen to be extremely proud of the upbringing that I have had. We learnt to value things early on, from money to family ties and mostly getting our priorities in order.  Now, I do live independently, I am single and my biggest fear is getting married to the wrong guy. I understand that “wrong” is relative, and people might call me demanding and choosy but a decision this big is something I am not willing to take because of sheer pressure. When I think of what I want in a person, I seriously don’t think I am over demanding. I just want a person who has a similar value system, in a family where women are giving their due respect and importance and their opinions considered while taking the larger decisions.  A person who understands my ambitions and aspirations in life and acknowledges me as a person in my own right and lastly who respects my parents and family like he wants me to treat his. Unfortunately, with me comes a set of paradoxes and that gets tricky. I happen to have a traditionalist in me, who is ambitious but ultimately wants to be looked after, for whom family is of utmost importance and love and understanding form the focal point in life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now let’s see with all that I want, where I ultimately end up, rather begin at..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-8903060467150904061?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/8903060467150904061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=8903060467150904061' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8903060467150904061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8903060467150904061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/12/in-name-of-equality.html' title='In the name of equality..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-3184395245314505201</id><published>2011-12-16T11:29:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-12-16T11:31:06.978+05:30</updated><title type='text'>To have observed and felt..</title><content type='html'>Since past one week I have been commuting to work on cycle rickshaws and autos, if I am lucky. It is so cold that when the wind lashes on my face, I can feel water on my cheeks, my nose going red and the chill seeping despite all the warm clothing on me. It worsens when my feet get cold (I cannot wear socks ever, so no shoes too) and then a numbness penetrates and surprisingly it is a welcome feeling. Contradictory to it, all my senses get sharpened, especially my vision and hearing abilities and I begin to notice colours and sounds like never before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last evening, it was the peak of rush hour and while I sat on the rickshaw, I could hear people talking, a variety of horns beeping and vehicles screeching on the road. And strangely enough, there was a synchrony in this noise. There seemed to be a pattern, a sort of music you could hear without even concentrating. The orchestra was magical and it reminded me of the movie August Rush, horns..beep..horn horn.. abusive.. beep, horn, a cacophony of sounds, just awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And how can I even begin to describe the sight. Yellow, green, silver, red and blues, all standing against the dark background of the black canvas that has gone misty. And the canvas had a spotlight too; the bright moon shone and made things vibrant yet mysterious, added an element of surprise merged with seductiveness of the night. It was breathtaking and for once I wished I could paint or take a picture that captured what I was witnessing right then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always been a city person, preferring the noise, the dust and the traffic to calmness and serenity, the warmth of people you don’t even know to the isolation and cold of loneliness. It is often I have tried explaining my view point to people and have failed miserably. They don’t seem to understand what’s there not to like in peace and quiet, nature and beauty and I tell them that I can find all the peace I need inside my house, all the alone factor in the sanctuary of my room and it is this magical city that enthralls me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: Strangely enough, I have begun to write everything as a third person and then later have to change all the you’s to my’s.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-3184395245314505201?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/3184395245314505201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=3184395245314505201' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/3184395245314505201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/3184395245314505201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/12/to-have-observed-and-felt.html' title='To have observed and felt..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-3584484760892312394</id><published>2011-12-07T15:57:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2011-12-07T17:51:52.522+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Lines that have lasted..</title><content type='html'>They have stuck by me since I've read them. High time I posted these to save them forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Nothing was in time. People just blindly grabbed at whatever there was: communism, health foods, zen, surfing, ballet, hypnotism, group encounters, orgies, biking, herbs, Catholism, weight- lifting, travel, withdrawal, vegetarianism, India, painting, writing, sculpting, composing, conducting, backpacking, yoga, copulating, gambling, drinking, hanging around, frozen yogurt, Beethoven, Bach, Buddha, Christ, TM, H, carrot juice, suicide, handmade suits, jet travel, New York City, and then it all evaporated and fell apart. People had to find things to do while waiting to die. I guess it was nice to have a choice.” &lt;/em&gt;Charles Bukowski, Women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND (with no relation whatsoever)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It’s true: Everyone needs a reason to stay alive- someone who justifies your existence. Someone who loves you. Not beyond all reason. Just loves you. Even just shows an interest. Even someone who does not exist, or isn’t yours. No, no! They don’t even have to love you! They just have to be there to love! Target for your arrows. Magnetic pole to drag on your compass needle and stop it spinning and tell you where you’re heading and ... Someone to soak up all the yearning.&lt;/em&gt; Geraldine McCaughrean, The White Darkness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And their impact on me never alters..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-3584484760892312394?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/3584484760892312394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=3584484760892312394' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/3584484760892312394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/3584484760892312394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/12/lines-that-have-lasted.html' title='Lines that have lasted..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-736384606714380415</id><published>2011-11-30T11:14:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2011-11-30T11:26:29.302+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Slow and steady, hopefully..</title><content type='html'>The self analysis mode is still on and I realised that I am a late bloomer. My reasons would be:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I understand/ feel things much later than people around me have. And because of this I am perceived as slow,not something that I can contradict.&lt;br /&gt;- I do love clothes and shoes and bags, the whole works. Despite of this, I keep using that bag till it gets beyond repair, wear one watch till it breaks down. &lt;br /&gt;- Fashion. Though I would love to try the latest and new and am even aware of it, I wear that newness when it is in the crutches, swaggering finally before it dies a slow death.&lt;br /&gt;- Even if I buy something new and upbeat, I stock it up in my wardrobe, get used to looking at it and think about how I can possibly pull it off before I wearing it to someplace. This is the reason I stick to classics and black.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn guts..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-736384606714380415?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/736384606714380415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=736384606714380415' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/736384606714380415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/736384606714380415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/11/slow-and-steady-hopefully.html' title='Slow and steady, hopefully..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-3164907956339044089</id><published>2011-11-09T11:58:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-11-09T12:02:19.412+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Emotional rollercoaster..</title><content type='html'>It is time that she withdrew, if only to keep the integrity intact.. And then she oscillates between the facts:&lt;br /&gt;- if she has the strength&lt;br /&gt;- knowing that she does&lt;br /&gt;- if she is doing it to get that momentary attention, and being sure that it’s not worth it. &lt;br /&gt;- or if it is not worth bothering and letting things be as they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much drama, and all out of sheer boredom..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-3164907956339044089?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/3164907956339044089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=3164907956339044089' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/3164907956339044089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/3164907956339044089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/11/emotional-rollercoaster.html' title='Emotional rollercoaster..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-960154641686003649</id><published>2011-11-02T10:13:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-11-02T10:21:10.931+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Inevitable..</title><content type='html'>I think after a while you start letting go. You begin to show the world what you are actually made up of instead of shying away from it like you have all your life. You begin to accept more of yourself and learn to live with it. And the best part is that it does not scare you. You reconcile with the fact that this is how you are and this is how the people will have to accept you, like it or not. Maybe you even get adamant to an extent of being so true that the urge of being liked as you are is overwhelming and you possibly couldn’t settle for anything less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I believe that happens because you are not scared of being hurt anymore, not worried about people judging you or bothering with what they think of you. You have already been injured so many times, looked down upon, bickered and bitched about that you have just stopped caring. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although it sets you free but there’s a price to pay. You get cynical and cold and I guess that is what they mean by growing up..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-960154641686003649?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/960154641686003649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=960154641686003649' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/960154641686003649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/960154641686003649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/11/inevitable.html' title='Inevitable..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-369940391507585440</id><published>2011-10-19T10:19:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-10-19T10:26:02.749+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Malnourished..</title><content type='html'>I feel affection deprived,&lt;br /&gt;I feel like soaking all the love and being spoilt rotten..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-369940391507585440?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/369940391507585440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=369940391507585440' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/369940391507585440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/369940391507585440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/10/malnourished.html' title='Malnourished..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-4453710509151808489</id><published>2011-10-12T12:35:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-10-12T12:51:56.431+05:30</updated><title type='text'>That's how it is..</title><content type='html'>Its been a long long time since I have been out of the dating scene and honestly speaking,I don't miss it. I just don't want to "see" anybody anymore, play any mind games or after every argument think that it was the end of it. I don't want to restrict my happiness from one phone call to another or try behaving like I am expected to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now can I have something much more concrete please, rock solid and permanent and non-wavering. I want dependability and real romance and peace and having fun and arguments with equal ease. And then I want real conversations, and a hand on the small of my back when we are together. I want somebody to travel with and not grope for company everytime and I want to talk about books and keep talking insistently without the fear of being perceived as a moron.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want all of this and some and if somebody thinks that I am aiming for the moon, I couldn't care less..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-4453710509151808489?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/4453710509151808489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=4453710509151808489' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4453710509151808489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4453710509151808489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/10/thats-how-it-is.html' title='That&apos;s how it is..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-8713185224419732014</id><published>2011-10-05T10:02:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-10-05T10:07:21.047+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Just little things..</title><content type='html'>No matter how much you ignore, it’s a fact proven time and again.. It is always the same who makes sense, only the one who makes you happy from within. Life becomes nicer with a single conversation and you feel so good about yourself that people around notice the gleam in your eyes even the day after. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how it has been, for years.. And this is how it shall always remain, a fact that needs to be accepted but done nothing about..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-8713185224419732014?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/8713185224419732014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=8713185224419732014' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8713185224419732014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8713185224419732014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/10/just-little-things.html' title='Just little things..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-8200747367867715213</id><published>2011-09-28T11:17:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-09-28T11:20:58.797+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Silly..</title><content type='html'>It has always been Calvin and Hobbes for me..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-8200747367867715213?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/8200747367867715213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=8200747367867715213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8200747367867715213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8200747367867715213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/09/silly.html' title='Silly..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-1702957154178613759</id><published>2011-09-14T09:38:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-09-14T09:40:58.431+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Innocence..</title><content type='html'>Right now I want to feel all thin and sexy and beautiful and happy.&lt;br /&gt;I want to wear the brightest of colours in one T, so bright that it hurts the eye. All fuchsia’s and greens and blues and yellows, all in one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now I want to team this up with that nice little denim skirt that brings out that T with bright forals and wear the pretty gold sandals that make me feel all young.&lt;br /&gt;I want to wear no make-up and pretend I am my teenage self who cared about getting it all right but didn’t know how to.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Right now I want to feel stupid and immature again who did not judge people the moment she met them, who took people at their face value.&lt;br /&gt;I want to go and have a crush on a guy for no reason or logic but only because he can make me laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now I want to be the girl who envied others for being so calm, methodical and self assured while she was going all wild and crazy.&lt;br /&gt;Right now, I want to wear brights again, right now I want to be young again..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-1702957154178613759?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/1702957154178613759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=1702957154178613759' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1702957154178613759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1702957154178613759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/09/innocence.html' title='Innocence..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-2262375173444852863</id><published>2011-09-07T11:33:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-09-07T11:37:48.008+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The old timers..</title><content type='html'>Three friends meeting after a long time. We are standing on the balcony of the married friend’s place. The house is in an isolated area of the city, on the sixth floor and though you can see some lights, its mostly dark and quiet with only noises of silence. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S1 is looking out, back towards me with both hands spread out on the railing, S2 is sideways with one hand on the railing and me on the threshold of the balcony, legs crossed, head resting on the door. We don’t say anything for a while, and its not awkward. Then S1 says how scared he is of loneliness and how he feels college should never have ended. He lives in Bombay and calls people to his place all the time because he cannot bear to be alone. Goes on saying how he can never live in a quiet place like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S2 is the married one. His wife cooked for us and while we ate, she was serving hot rotis (she knows how good food deprived we are, always). Now she eats with her brother and has left us alone to be. S2 says that he chose this place because it reminds him of the Chennai house where S1, T ans him lived together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember that place. We stayed over when we had assignments to complete and the boys couldn't stay over at the campus beyond a certain time. It was a dirty, stinky place with a banana tree outside. But mostly I remember it because every few weeks T would come complaining into the class saying that his Jockeys got stolen. One afternoon he was sleeping with his head on the table, a common scenario when we’d worked round the clock, I wrote his name on his underwear band. I later told him that I’d done it from preventing the thief to take them. He still holds a grudge against me for doing this and threatens me to avenge himself one day even now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, I remember us standing on S2’s balcony like it is a picture taken. The colours, postures everything so bright and vivid. And the silence, the peace and the need to not talk. It was magical.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-2262375173444852863?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/2262375173444852863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=2262375173444852863' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2262375173444852863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2262375173444852863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/09/old-timers.html' title='The old timers..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-1359485065562385057</id><published>2011-08-31T13:31:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2011-09-02T18:30:26.392+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Complimentary..</title><content type='html'>My latest purchase was a new laptop, finally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I had bought it, I just wasn't happy and I realised that it was just beacuse though I did get a fairly good deal, there was nothing "free" with it. I told the guy that &lt;em&gt;feeling nahi aa rahi hai kuch naya kharidne ki, kuch toh free de do&lt;/em&gt; (I am not happy with my purchase just beacuse I haven't got anything free, atleast give me something with it), and he gave me a set of speakers which are pretty cool actually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the powers of persuasion/ begging and being a girl works well in most of the sitiuations..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-1359485065562385057?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/1359485065562385057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=1359485065562385057' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1359485065562385057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1359485065562385057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/08/complimentary.html' title='Complimentary..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-6424512303170772294</id><published>2011-08-17T11:53:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-08-17T11:56:40.192+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Little acts of kindness..</title><content type='html'>I have been meaning to write this for a while now. Little and big things that strangers and friends did for me that left me all sweet and happy inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Last Diwali I decided to take an evening train back to my home town. Since the roads are clogged during festivals, I decided to take the Metro to the station. I boarded it from its starting point but inspite of this, there was no place to sit. A boy was sitting across the place I stood. Two stations later, this guy offered me his seat since the compartment was beginning to get crowded. I refused saying that I’d be fine, I did not want to take advantage of being a girl when I scream equality. He insisted saying that I had no idea how uncomfortable it would get and made me take his place. When this guy was about to get off, he explained to me over and again at what station I needed to get off and genuinely sounded worried of my well being. &lt;br /&gt;I wish I could bump into him sometime and thank him for his thoughtfulness. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- My car has developed a habit of getting punctured every few days.  Sometime ago while getting out of work very late, I realized I had a flat tyre. I cannot change it myself so looked out for help and managed to find a driver. Not only did he help me but refused to take money even after insisting. It was not about the money here that made me happy but the unexpected surprise of somebody being so contrary to the behavior I usually expect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- A few years ago when I was a little less arrogant and cynical, I had a fight with one of my closest friends. We had never really fought like that before and I was slightly mad at him. He sent me lucky bamboos at my workplace. The fact that he did not send me flowers and stuff (I get completely embarrassed by gestures like these at work) was so nice apart from the surprise that I got. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- My house had got painted and the painters had left the previous evening. I was dreading going back to my dirty apartment and organising that place after a late evening at work. As I reached and opened the door, I was so happy to see that everything was clean and arranged. Later I got to know that my maid had got her sister and they had spent hours getting things in order. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sure there would be many more if I begin recollecting but these form the top of my list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-6424512303170772294?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/6424512303170772294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=6424512303170772294' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6424512303170772294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6424512303170772294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/08/little-acts-of-kindness.html' title='Little acts of kindness..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-1243039688147104945</id><published>2011-08-12T09:46:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-08-12T09:47:21.102+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Humour..</title><content type='html'>Being funny is so important to me..&lt;br /&gt;I can get married to a funny man.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-1243039688147104945?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/1243039688147104945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=1243039688147104945' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1243039688147104945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1243039688147104945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/08/humour.html' title='Humour..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-8067814485592292951</id><published>2011-08-03T14:20:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2011-08-03T14:36:43.994+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Secret effects..</title><content type='html'>My intuitions have been crazy strong these days,I just have to think that something might go wrong and it actually does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day before last, while driving to work I thought to myself that I hadn't had a punctured tyre for a while and in the evening, this is exactly what had happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next thing was when last night I thought to myself how nice a buy my aircon was. I've had it for more than two years and it has never needed a repair. 3 o'clock at night it crashed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read The Secret (though I am no believer), some time ago and it said that the Universe transmitted your thoughts in form of events and you just have to believe. Though I can see the negative effect and still wait for the positive..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-8067814485592292951?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/8067814485592292951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=8067814485592292951' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8067814485592292951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8067814485592292951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/08/secret-effects.html' title='Secret effects..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-3397268215537171580</id><published>2011-07-27T16:57:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-07-27T17:02:09.232+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Vent..</title><content type='html'>I am worried. My work place is reducing it's stake in the footwear category and trying to get me into home products. And I hate it..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-3397268215537171580?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/3397268215537171580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=3397268215537171580' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/3397268215537171580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/3397268215537171580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/07/vent.html' title='Vent..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-225903566736966564</id><published>2011-07-25T11:50:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-07-25T11:57:18.926+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Inconsequential..</title><content type='html'>I just wanted to make a nonsensical list of a lot of stuff in my head, so here it goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- That torn picture I carried in my wallet for ages which wouldn’t make sense to anyone but me. I had it for years till my wallet got stolen.&lt;br /&gt;- Delhi looks amazing at night from an airplane. The traffic looked liked lava flowing through streets, all brilliant and dazzling.&lt;br /&gt;- Somebody can read you so well, it’s crazy.&lt;br /&gt;- At times meaningless things can give you the most happiness.&lt;br /&gt;- How you don’t think much of somebody and then you have that one conversation that shows how much a person has grown. And you realize it only because he did not call you when you requested him not to. &lt;br /&gt;- Strangely enough, most of the times I put all my energy into something I can never have and yet it seems the most constructive thing I’ve done all day.&lt;br /&gt;- The world moves such: with everybody having somebody on the hook.&lt;br /&gt;- I’m not on Twitter. I think I will forget writing properly and let go of my blog, something that I don’t want to.&lt;br /&gt;- Somebody told me that its books that find you and not the other way round, how apt.&lt;br /&gt;- A quote I would like to save “It’s hard to forget someone who gave you so much to remember.”&lt;br /&gt;- I want to go for a run so bad, just do some, any form of exercise to vent all the anger out.&lt;br /&gt;- I now for real understand what nostalgia means, not just a good sounding word in the dictionary but much more than that. Looking back at school and then college, telling details to people who wouldn’t care less and wishing from your heart that you could get them back.&lt;br /&gt;- It will all be alright eventually, a belief I cannot stop living by. &lt;br /&gt;- I like consistency more than I am willing to accept.&lt;br /&gt;- It’s been a while since I have been thinking about giving a face to this space, not a real picture but maybe just a shadow, an impression and for years I have not been able to find the right picture. Maybe I like it better like this, with no names, no faces, no identity.&lt;br /&gt;- I don’t like clutter anywhere, be it home, my desk or my head. And that’s exactly how I feel right now, all cluttered. &lt;br /&gt;- I don’t like bookmarking books, instead I read from 9-9. For example, read from 1-9 then 9-129, you get the drift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty much it..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-225903566736966564?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/225903566736966564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=225903566736966564' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/225903566736966564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/225903566736966564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/07/inconsequential.html' title='Inconsequential..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-3071399264408597972</id><published>2011-07-20T11:21:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2011-07-20T12:34:32.308+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Sister..</title><content type='html'>I had so much to write today and then my sister sends me this text: :"Was thinking of happy feelings and you were in most of them. Love you lots.". And then I forgot most of what I wanted to put down here and instead thought of all that she means to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phase 1.&lt;br /&gt;She is elder to me by six years but I am not sure it ever mattered. I will begin with the pictures we have together that somehow comprise of my earliest memories of her. Wherever we are together, she's holding me somehow, cuddling me, kissing me, holding my hand or my hair even, hand on the shoulder, the collar of my dress, just anything. And now when I see these pictures I realise how protective she has been of me, from so young to now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phase 2.&lt;br /&gt;Then I remember her in her teens when constant fights were our daily ritual. We would argue, fight with hands and all and then her constant mood swings that I couldn't stand. She would study at night, with the television on and couldn't care less if I was sleeping or not. the room remained at its messiest best and I had to clean it every time when I had to study or sleep as I have always seemed to have had a cleaning disorder. &lt;br /&gt;We also shared the same school and in case my rickshaw didn't turn up (we used to go in separate, she with her friends and me with mine), she would leave me to go on my own that included changing the shared tempos twice followed by a cycle rickshaw. Now I realise that it was my first lesson in independence and again like so many things, it came from her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phase 3.&lt;br /&gt;After that I grew up and reached my teens. I was always a thin person, contrary to her. And because I was growing up and into sports, our mother never stopped me from eating anything,again contrary to her. On one hand while I was eating a bowl of chips and a whole slab of chocolate everyday, she was made to eat boiled food. Again fights happened and now I don't blame her. &lt;br /&gt;Then she began going to parties and now I don't know why, she took me everywhere with her. The things that she was not allowed at her age, became acceptable at mine because she had already had my share of grievances and fights with our parents. We went out for parties, her friends became mine and mine hers. And when we came back late, she stood there to face the repercussion of coming after curfew hours. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phase 4.&lt;br /&gt;I got through NIFT and that's where my sister changed my life. She wanted to do this but while she was young, my father opposed to her studying outside the city. She did not let this happen to me. Very subtly, she and my mother persuaded my dad to let me go. And then I became what I am today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after all this, I just want to tell her that no matter how we fight still and have our own issues in our busy lives, she is part of all of my happy memories yesterday, now and even my future because if it had not been for her, I wouldn't be what I am today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-3071399264408597972?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/3071399264408597972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=3071399264408597972' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/3071399264408597972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/3071399264408597972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/07/sister.html' title='Sister..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-5398753650430484451</id><published>2011-07-18T15:24:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2011-07-18T16:13:18.298+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Ticktock..</title><content type='html'>Just realised that it has been six years of writing here,&lt;br /&gt;Not too bad I would say.. &lt;br /&gt;Especially for a person like me, &lt;br /&gt;Who likes to wither away..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-5398753650430484451?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/5398753650430484451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=5398753650430484451' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/5398753650430484451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/5398753650430484451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/07/tick-tock.html' title='Ticktock..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-4645306612018723929</id><published>2011-07-13T15:32:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-07-13T15:45:05.462+05:30</updated><title type='text'>State..</title><content type='html'>I don't want to write a negative post but I cannot think of anything positive and yet I can't help writing just for the heck of it..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-4645306612018723929?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/4645306612018723929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=4645306612018723929' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4645306612018723929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4645306612018723929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/07/state.html' title='State..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-6553855674125990669</id><published>2011-07-06T10:33:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2011-07-06T17:57:53.883+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Love..</title><content type='html'>So my two and a half year old nephew and I are lazing on the couch and talking and he tells me: "Mausi ki eyes mein Shauryaman Jain (his name)dikh raha hai," with an intensity only a kid as old can muster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probably the most romantic words somebody has said to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-6553855674125990669?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/6553855674125990669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=6553855674125990669' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6553855674125990669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6553855674125990669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/07/love.html' title='Love..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-4932603967554990794</id><published>2011-06-01T10:24:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-06-01T10:32:20.186+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Space..</title><content type='html'>Once, a long time ago, my cousin commented this on one of my posts and now after all this while it makes the most sense to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What goes round, comes round.So many times we limit our happiness by giving it a certain definition.Then we wait for it to prove true. Some lives are perfect circles, and others oblong shapes.It might not make sense to you but know that every unexplained curve in it is a perfect fit for another oblong piece lying there somewhere.You just need to stick out till you finish the puzzle."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probably the nicest piece of advise somebody gave me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so I wait to find my perfect unexplained curve..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-4932603967554990794?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/4932603967554990794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=4932603967554990794' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4932603967554990794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4932603967554990794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/06/space.html' title='Space..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-4548177293275338585</id><published>2011-05-23T13:56:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2011-05-24T10:00:40.891+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Spotless..</title><content type='html'>I know it has never been easy and never will be. Hopefully this one leaves me a little more humble, some more patient and lots more forgiving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last one hopefully, to get my slate clean..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-4548177293275338585?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/4548177293275338585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=4548177293275338585' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4548177293275338585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4548177293275338585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/05/spotless.html' title='Spotless..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-2438221506090442626</id><published>2011-05-18T13:10:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-05-18T13:19:29.200+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Blessed..</title><content type='html'>I have been living on my own(as in alone) for close to three years now. My parents have been more than supportive of every decision taken, all the choices made. I need not write this but I love them so much that they are the only people, just thinking of whom can get me teary eyed and emotional. And I don’t get all worked up because I am a brilliant daughter, rather the contrary. I love independence, get selfish to the core at times, have more mood swings than a 16 year old and go to lengths to get my parents agree to what I want. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So basically, they have the most impossible deal on their hands, a girl who’s independent, moody and stubborn and yet they love me like they do. They hear my mildly upset voice over the phone and cannot sleep at night. God forbid if I hurt myself, or not well, one or both of them fly down, cancelling all their plans, pausing their own lives. They flex the general rules of the family to accommodate me since they understand what I would be comfortable in and what not, an example of which is that I wear tiny skirts in my hometown and what nots, I can go out late with friends the only condition being I must have a driver or one of them needs to pick me up. When my mother calls me in the evening, she sounds disappointed when she finds me at home and not out with friends or if I come back early I am questioned. I can always tell my parents whom I am with and where I am going to, be it movies or clubbing. The list is endless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know why I am writing this, why I haven’t in all these years I have been at this space but something today makes my put how strong I feel about my parents here. How I keep realizing time and again how my sisters and I happen to be the focal point of their lives and me not being married yet happens to be the most pampered one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I just cannot count my blessings enough..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-2438221506090442626?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/2438221506090442626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=2438221506090442626' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2438221506090442626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2438221506090442626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/05/blessed.html' title='Blessed..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-2714733980197844057</id><published>2011-05-06T10:35:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-05-06T10:38:21.753+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Prayer..</title><content type='html'>I think everybody has different means to reach God and this space seems mine.  &lt;br /&gt;So I just bow and pray and hope that it will happen..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-2714733980197844057?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/2714733980197844057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=2714733980197844057' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2714733980197844057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2714733980197844057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/05/prayer.html' title='Prayer..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-7801135208274976118</id><published>2011-05-02T15:17:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2011-05-02T17:51:51.435+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Sweet..</title><content type='html'>This Saturday as usual I was helping my maid clean the house. It is a weekend ritual where I get everything removed and all the nooks and corners are taken care off. This lady has been working at my place for years now and I trust her with a lot. Every Saturday she tells me about her family, the other places she works at and the people there, not in terms of gossip (I barely know anyone) but generally. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That day she was telling me how she had begun working at these apartments and the lady there wanted to hire her for her neighbour. Since the timings clashed with my place, she refused saying that she had been working at mine for years now and does not want to quit. She also told me that it had been her dream to work at one of these high rises, the reason being that she loves taking the elevator. She always wanted to and now she gets to take once twice a day, this with so much pride in her voice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was one of the sweetest things I heard someone say. I realised how innocent ambitions can be and how simple and somehow it gave me a different perspective to life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-7801135208274976118?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/7801135208274976118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=7801135208274976118' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/7801135208274976118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/7801135208274976118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/05/sweet.html' title='Sweet..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-4145871898658082434</id><published>2011-04-27T18:35:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-04-27T18:46:38.145+05:30</updated><title type='text'>View..</title><content type='html'>It is being told a million times, in mulitiple different ways, different contexts.&lt;br /&gt;It is my biggest fear coming true and there is just one thing that can save the sitiuation and I so wish for it to happen, maybe even for all the wrong reasons, maybe right.&lt;br /&gt;I guess I am selfish and disgusting and mean and I can't help but be like that..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-4145871898658082434?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/4145871898658082434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=4145871898658082434' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4145871898658082434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4145871898658082434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/04/view.html' title='View..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-1238997196605138486</id><published>2011-04-08T15:30:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-04-08T15:33:23.665+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Vision..</title><content type='html'>I read it on some one else's space and totally fell for it. Too worthy a phrase to lose it somewhere so I put this here:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"...All life is just a progression toward, and then a recession from, one phrase- 'I love you.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-The Offshore Pirate, F. Scott Fitzgerald.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-1238997196605138486?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/1238997196605138486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=1238997196605138486' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1238997196605138486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1238997196605138486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/04/vision.html' title='Vision..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-4780587710773514579</id><published>2011-03-30T09:44:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-03-30T09:48:22.818+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Synonyms..</title><content type='html'>Volatile:&lt;br /&gt;Unstable/ Unpredictable/ Explosive/ Hot-blooded/ Impulsive/ Fickle/ Capricious/ Hot-tempered&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Capricious:&lt;br /&gt;Changeable/ Whimsical/ Variable/ Unreliable/ Fickle/ Erratic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fickle:&lt;br /&gt;Indecisive/ Inconsistent/ Vacillating/ Picky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vacillating:&lt;br /&gt;Irresolute/ Of two minds/ Hesitant/ Dithering/ Wavering&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Irresolute:&lt;br /&gt;Undetermined/ Wishy-washy/ Cowardly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wishy-washy:&lt;br /&gt;Weak/ Spineless/ Spiritless/ Ineffectual/ Pathetic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ineffectual:&lt;br /&gt;Incompetent/ Unimpressive/ Unsuccessful/ Useless/ Hopeless/ Inadequate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inadequate:&lt;br /&gt;Insufficient/ Not enough/ Scarce/ Too little/ Derisory/ Laughable/ Poor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Derisory:&lt;br /&gt;Pitiful/ Insulting/ Ridiculous/ Contemptible/ Mean&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ridiculous:&lt;br /&gt;Ludicrous/ Preposterous/ Absurd/ Silly/ Unreasonable&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Preposterous&lt;br /&gt;Outlandish&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Above was just a game I was playing to break the monotony of work and it made me realise what fun words can be and you never end from the point you start from (be it any sphere of life).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-4780587710773514579?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/4780587710773514579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=4780587710773514579' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4780587710773514579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4780587710773514579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/03/synonyms.html' title='Synonyms..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-2252219697128220097</id><published>2011-03-09T10:23:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-03-09T10:27:19.716+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Volatile..</title><content type='html'>It's like a burden lifted and I do feel the vacuum but I am so so relieved.&lt;br /&gt;Please please let it last..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-2252219697128220097?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/2252219697128220097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=2252219697128220097' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2252219697128220097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2252219697128220097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/03/volatile.html' title='Volatile..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-5838279886518911233</id><published>2011-02-14T23:39:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-02-14T23:49:58.158+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Valentines..</title><content type='html'>The single most important man in my life wished me valentines and made my day: my Dad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-5838279886518911233?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/5838279886518911233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=5838279886518911233' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/5838279886518911233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/5838279886518911233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/02/valentines.html' title='Valentines..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-8222716038049163942</id><published>2011-02-02T12:13:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-02-02T12:15:04.111+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Stuck..</title><content type='html'>After &lt;a href="http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2006/12/positive-thinking.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; one, another life changer with the same friend and once again in a Chinese restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;@#%$&amp;: It is inevitable Sam. Sooner or later you will have to take a decision , make a choice and get into something permanent. The later you do, the lesser chances you might have to adapt to the situation easily. &lt;br /&gt;Life is difficult. We will all have problems, it never will be perfect. But it is upto you to choose the happiness you prefer: financial, personal or professional. Would you rather have less money, a bad day a work but come back to a happy home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I know what you mean and I know the choice is an obvious one.&lt;br /&gt;To myself: Leap of faith, that is all I will have to take. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like the last one, this too has stuck by me and I am grateful that we had this conversation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-8222716038049163942?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/8222716038049163942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=8222716038049163942' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8222716038049163942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8222716038049163942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/02/stuck.html' title='Stuck..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-8706023913574541523</id><published>2011-01-05T12:19:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2011-01-05T12:42:52.140+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Surprise..</title><content type='html'>I finally got one, after more than two years of contemplating: I am talking about a tattoo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realised how fickle I can be whilst getting one, the artist had just done the outline and I screamed that I wanted it off and I absolutely hated it. He stopped right then and just stared at me while I calmed down and got my nerves back. Now I understand that it was not the tattoo that I hated but the whole idea of permanency. And the reason why I chose to go for one was to get something, anything permanent. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always run away from situations that call for commitment of any sort. &lt;br /&gt;- When I make plans with friends, I always have a backup to get out of them.&lt;br /&gt;- On my work side I know I can quit anytime and go back home.&lt;br /&gt;- Hair cut: they grow again&lt;br /&gt;- Any purchase: I can return or buy another one.&lt;br /&gt;- Relationships (minus family): I don’t get into one and then I know that though it may hurt but I can chose to back off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Considering above, this decision to get something as permanent on myself was a very big deal and I don’t regret it a bit. Hopefully, other similar life altering decisions will give me the same feeling. Ta..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a very happy new year to all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-8706023913574541523?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/8706023913574541523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=8706023913574541523' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8706023913574541523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8706023913574541523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2011/01/surprise.html' title='Surprise..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-7964766879877244675</id><published>2010-12-20T10:51:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-12-20T10:55:33.731+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Simple..</title><content type='html'>Very recently my dad offered to buy me the much talked about Amazon Kindle and I refused. Can you believe it, yes I refused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not a very techno savvy person, my laptop is turning six and my last purchase a year ago was my cell phone: Nokia E72 that I sincerely regret buying. I prefer using my Samsung Guru, the cheapest version available and the only so called gadget I would possible invest in would be a very very nice watch (if it can be called a gadget), for the simple reason that I would at least wear it 23.5 hours a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, coming back to books, the fact is that I love to read, going upto two books a week at times and spending Rs. 5000 a month on an average so buying a Kindle would be a sensible option but I love books too much to replace them with technology. I love their warm smell, I love scribbling on them, even doodling if a particular text reminds me of something. I love looking at the glossy paperbacks and making mistakes by judging them with just that. I love spending hours every weekend at the bookstore and realizing that the staff knows me by name now. I love cuddling up in the quilt with just my eyes popping out to read or sitting in the sun with tea and a book. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, I love books too much to replace them with fibre and plastic and somehow looking back at my collection of books and trying to remember my memories associated to them is fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A regular long post after a long time, it feels good..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-7964766879877244675?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/7964766879877244675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=7964766879877244675' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/7964766879877244675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/7964766879877244675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2010/12/simple.html' title='Simple..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-1562059766361042929</id><published>2010-12-08T12:50:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2010-12-08T13:07:53.639+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Slither..</title><content type='html'>I don't like being me right now: helpless, restless and all of that..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-1562059766361042929?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/1562059766361042929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=1562059766361042929' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1562059766361042929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1562059766361042929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2010/12/shallow.html' title='Slither..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-484639250124668413</id><published>2010-11-24T11:21:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2010-11-24T12:27:22.950+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Startled..</title><content type='html'>Dad: I am going to say yes.&lt;br /&gt;And I saw my whole life flashing before me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have often wondered how death is going to be and always imagined it coming as a relief. Now I almost know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-484639250124668413?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/484639250124668413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=484639250124668413' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/484639250124668413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/484639250124668413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2010/11/startled.html' title='Startled..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-8122436206618236005</id><published>2010-10-27T11:59:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-10-27T12:02:45.045+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Sore..</title><content type='html'>It hurts so bad..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-8122436206618236005?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/8122436206618236005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=8122436206618236005' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8122436206618236005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8122436206618236005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2010/10/sore.html' title='Sore..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-2920395566312141144</id><published>2010-08-29T01:07:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2010-08-29T01:22:14.828+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Missing..</title><content type='html'>Its been longer than ever this time, perhaps the longest I've stayed away.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's been a whirlwind of activity work wise with no breather at all and the time spared is spent trying to catch up with the few remaining friends who are willing to tolerate my mood swings, bitching about work and frequent non show-ups even after making a zillion plans..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In between, I've gone home couple of times, read a lot and come across some of the nicest of words that leave me smiling. I hope the following lines from A Million Little Pieces by James Frey will have a similar effect on those who have still stuck around this space despite me not showing up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;I like that you miss me.&lt;br /&gt;I like that you like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I leave you with this and hope that I will be able to hear this from someone and give a similar reply. Till then..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-2920395566312141144?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/2920395566312141144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=2920395566312141144' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2920395566312141144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2920395566312141144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2010/08/missing.html' title='Missing..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-5904638708646900506</id><published>2010-05-31T16:12:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-05-31T16:41:06.267+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Reconcile..</title><content type='html'>There are so many times you feel like making that one call and putting things into perspective, tell the other person how sorry you are about what happened, how you want to turn back time and amend all the mistakes that were committed just because you were young and stupid..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't mean you want to change the outcome of the past, its more to do with getting that one friend back who meant so much to you or even telling them that its all good and making your peace with each other, just that and nothing more..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-5904638708646900506?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/5904638708646900506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=5904638708646900506' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/5904638708646900506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/5904638708646900506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2010/05/reconcile.html' title='Reconcile..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-8255517868391723561</id><published>2010-05-23T12:56:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-05-23T13:01:55.388+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Just..</title><content type='html'>I don't like month beginnings, clearing dues, paying bills and suddenly seeing my bank account go empty..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I also don't understand why we take a person for granted the moment we realise they like/love us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-8255517868391723561?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/8255517868391723561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=8255517868391723561' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8255517868391723561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8255517868391723561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2010/05/just.html' title='Just..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-182782093399982681</id><published>2010-05-02T17:20:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2010-05-02T17:37:52.751+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Updates..</title><content type='html'>This is probably the longest I've stayed away from here, so long that I am afraid I have forgotten how to write, give spaces between words or mark paragraphs but write I must, just to get it back..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this while I've been away, its just footwear I've been making and liking the work and hating the people with equal intensity. I think I am doing an alright job and the best part is to come back home drained and going off to sleep without a thought. Some may call it a hollow life, but work has been keeping me going and liking what I do is just a privilege.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came to write something else, totally non-work related but ended up with this and then suddenly lost my chain of thought, guess I will have to end it abruptly.. Anyhow, I've also been reading a lot when I travel and I recommend Mohsin Hamid completely, its nice in an English August sort of way..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Till then..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-182782093399982681?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/182782093399982681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=182782093399982681' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/182782093399982681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/182782093399982681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2010/05/updates.html' title='Updates..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-5145472411548289982</id><published>2010-03-15T23:55:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-03-16T00:01:44.368+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Remembrance..</title><content type='html'>Its been a while now since this happened. It personally did not effect me much because I’ve been living out of home for years now and the bitterness in family ties and all that my parents had to face made me cold towards it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Taiji passed away a month ago and living together as a family for 37 years had its pros and cons. There was a struggle to cope up and adjust with each other, the strains of it visible in the later years when families grew larger, expectations higher and hearts greedier. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to the hospital where she had been admitted in Delhi and the scene shook me. I couldn’t meet Tai, she was in a critical state by then, the surgery having failed but the sight of my Tauji, his helplessness, his anxiety was beyond explanation. It was their 50th anniversary that day and sharing that period of your life with someone is something I can just imagine. My heart went out to him and I cried my way back home, I knew in my heart that this was it and begged God to prove my instincts wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going back home made me miss little things about her, my eyes searched for her on the balcony as soon as I reached. She used to stand their for hours trying to keep an eye on whose going where, a habit that irritated me then but which I now find endearing. He voice that echoed in the house calling for servants and giving instructions.. But most of all I remember how she loved me when I was little, my Mom tells me it was only her who could soothe me when I was ill and how she always saved my from my Dad when he was angry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize that family bonds are hard to break, things may get bitter, life difficult but the warmth remains..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-5145472411548289982?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/5145472411548289982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=5145472411548289982' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/5145472411548289982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/5145472411548289982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2010/03/rememberance.html' title='Remembrance..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-2016991984148148561</id><published>2010-03-05T14:45:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-03-05T14:47:22.028+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Books..</title><content type='html'>I am in love with Wuthering Heights..and Catherine, and Heathcliff..and their bitter love story that touches the soul..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-2016991984148148561?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/2016991984148148561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=2016991984148148561' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2016991984148148561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2016991984148148561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2010/03/books.html' title='Books..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-6203570451174231693</id><published>2010-02-25T00:23:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-02-25T00:34:07.710+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Appropriate..</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/q_BAauZpLGg&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/q_BAauZpLGg&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I couldn't help it..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-6203570451174231693?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/6203570451174231693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=6203570451174231693' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6203570451174231693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6203570451174231693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2010/02/appropriate.html' title='Appropriate..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-6315636728466155879</id><published>2010-02-03T23:37:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-02-03T23:41:00.363+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Job..</title><content type='html'>He up there understands me, my faith is reaffirmed (it never was gone).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I landed in a job that takes 12-13 hours of my day leaving me no time to grasp life and that's totally refreshing..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-6315636728466155879?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/6315636728466155879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=6315636728466155879' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6315636728466155879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6315636728466155879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2010/02/job.html' title='Job..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-3726258882562083498</id><published>2010-01-26T00:03:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-01-26T00:06:58.636+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Loss..</title><content type='html'>The gravity of the loss hits you only after there is nothing left to save..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel so tender and lonely right now and there's nothing I can do about it; I didn't do much while I could have..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-3726258882562083498?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/3726258882562083498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=3726258882562083498' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/3726258882562083498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/3726258882562083498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2010/01/loss.html' title='Loss..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-8146343188302527108</id><published>2010-01-06T22:38:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-01-06T22:59:44.051+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Reflections..</title><content type='html'>A little more sane&lt;br /&gt;A little more mature&lt;br /&gt;A little more clear about life,&lt;br /&gt;And yet, a little confused too..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little more independent&lt;br /&gt;A little more free&lt;br /&gt;A little more confident,&lt;br /&gt;And yet, a little lonely too..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little more unburdened&lt;br /&gt;A little more comfortable&lt;br /&gt;A little easy,&lt;br /&gt;And yet, a little introvert too..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little more hopeful&lt;br /&gt;A little more faith&lt;br /&gt;A little more belief in the one up there,&lt;br /&gt;And yet, a little scared too..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The past year taught me this and a little more&lt;br /&gt;This year hopefully will bring love, friends and a lot of happiness too..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-8146343188302527108?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/8146343188302527108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=8146343188302527108' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8146343188302527108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8146343188302527108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2010/01/reflections.html' title='Reflections..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-8909842637063641601</id><published>2009-12-30T10:39:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-30T12:04:55.493+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Have a great one..</title><content type='html'>When I wrote &lt;a href="http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2006/07/dunno.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;, I didn't know I would stick here as long as I have, in spite of the stubborn promise made. However, with the year ending, I'd like to say that I am glad I stuck around, learnt so much and kinda grew up reading other peoples' (some of them friends now) spaces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And with this I would like to wish you all A Very Happy New Year and loads of love and happiness. Till then..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-8909842637063641601?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/8909842637063641601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=8909842637063641601' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8909842637063641601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8909842637063641601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/12/have-great-one.html' title='Have a great one..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-2001348783280892189</id><published>2009-12-18T10:50:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-18T10:53:05.698+05:30</updated><title type='text'>For good..</title><content type='html'>Its holiday time, &lt;br /&gt;I have resigned from my current work place and I am so excited.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-2001348783280892189?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/2001348783280892189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=2001348783280892189' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2001348783280892189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2001348783280892189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/12/for-good.html' title='For good..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-2933193876811765310</id><published>2009-12-14T10:17:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-14T10:55:14.572+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Seeping pessimism..</title><content type='html'>Its all haphazard in my head and I feel like penning it all down. The details are not possible, neither do I feel like elaborating on one particular thing so I'll do with the bits..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I am reading Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger and I don't like it as much as The Time Traveller's Wife. However, there are certain parts I could relate myself to.&lt;br /&gt;- Its so strange to lose feeling for someone, it stresses the other person out and you don't have an explanation to provide.&lt;br /&gt;- I don't like to talk much when once I could elaborate on things that were totally inconsequential. I think it tires me out and I even feel guilty about wasting words.&lt;br /&gt;- There are so many words I can't pronounce right and lately I refrain from using any new one for the fear of saying them wrong. If I continue like this, I think I'll just stop talking.&lt;br /&gt;- Yesterday night while reading, I realised what a complicated feeling love is and there are so many forms of it that I can just feel and not explain, even to myself at times.&lt;br /&gt;- The highlight of my week was that I went clubbing Saturday night and it was fun after ages. For once I got sloshed after four Cosmopolitans, and did not feel giddy. I also ended up singing at the top of my voice and I totally blame it on the awesome music they play there.&lt;br /&gt;- I think dancing makes a person look sexy(ier). There was this really plain looking girl at the club with an equally plain looking guy but when they entered the dance floor they underwent a transformation. It was as if someone was pulling stings to make them dance, there was so much harmony in their performance and yet it didn't look rehearsed.&lt;br /&gt;- I am torn between the urge of going home but staying back. I want to meet my parents but every time I go, something happens that totally mars my trip.&lt;br /&gt;- I feel like quiting my job, grabbing a dozen books and sitting in the Sun and reading. I did that last year and I miss it right now.&lt;br /&gt;- I don't ask questions and people take it otherwise if they don't know me well enough. I don't bother giving explanations..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A long post this one was and I am bored of writing it, I'll just stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: Its easier writing than talking.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-2933193876811765310?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/2933193876811765310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=2933193876811765310' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2933193876811765310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2933193876811765310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/12/seeping-pessimism.html' title='Seeping pessimism..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-6362741323503783202</id><published>2009-12-04T09:43:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-04T10:01:49.385+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Praying hard..</title><content type='html'>Its so frustrating and I am so tensed..&lt;br /&gt;The worst is that I can do nothing about it,&lt;br /&gt;Just wait and pray..&lt;br /&gt;And hope that it will all be fine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-6362741323503783202?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/6362741323503783202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=6362741323503783202' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6362741323503783202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6362741323503783202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/12/praying-hard.html' title='Praying hard..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-1673425755521498059</id><published>2009-11-27T12:26:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-27T12:40:30.521+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Havoc..</title><content type='html'>Yeh, a negative post yet again but I can't seem to help it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My daily routine consists of getting up early and rushing to work, coming back late evening and dosing off, often without eating anything. But ultimately its just hours passing because I seem to be doing nothing productive throughout the day. Infact I feel my boss in U.S no more considers me a part of the design team, no fault of his as I haven't been mailing him any work (I haven't been doing any)and that totally hurts..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Infact I feel I should get married now, atleast it will break the current monotony if nothing else.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-1673425755521498059?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/1673425755521498059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=1673425755521498059' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1673425755521498059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1673425755521498059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/11/havoc.html' title='Havoc..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-2645810293022449839</id><published>2009-11-23T12:33:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-23T12:40:24.921+05:30</updated><title type='text'>State of impassiveness..</title><content type='html'>Sometimes you are very close to somebody and then maybe all of a sudden or after a period of time, its just gone. You don't feel anything, not even the gaping vacuum that others can see but you don't feel anything, no hurt, just nothing..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The strange part is that it does not bother you, rather you feel at peace as if a tumour was removed..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-2645810293022449839?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/2645810293022449839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=2645810293022449839' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2645810293022449839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2645810293022449839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/11/state-of-impassiveness.html' title='State of impassiveness..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-1798493168496202200</id><published>2009-11-18T23:34:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-18T23:38:41.882+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Complexities..</title><content type='html'>He must have really loved her to hate her as much..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-1798493168496202200?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/1798493168496202200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=1798493168496202200' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1798493168496202200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1798493168496202200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/11/complexities.html' title='Complexities..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-4144543179809788000</id><published>2009-11-16T11:53:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-16T12:00:24.640+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Shouldn't have..</title><content type='html'>I can't handle liquor at all. The other day I got drunk on a single glass of wine and made somebody read stuff that was a little too personal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What made me regret it the next day was not getting the reaction I was probably expecting. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't exactly what I wanted to listen at that point of time and that ruined it for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid I am..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-4144543179809788000?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/4144543179809788000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=4144543179809788000' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4144543179809788000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4144543179809788000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/11/shouldnt-have.html' title='Shouldn&apos;t have..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-2478058398395685208</id><published>2009-11-09T10:13:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-09T15:45:00.838+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Holding on..</title><content type='html'>I think I was in standard 1 or max 2.We didn't have a car then and our usual mode of travel was a cycle rickshaw.Dad had established a new business and that kept him away from us for days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like all children, I loved it when Ma came to pick me up from school and then I did not realise what an ordeal it would be for her to come all the way, just to pick me up and give me that happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My school was a convent and as you entered from the front gate, there was a garden and surrounding it the driveway coming to the back gate. My happiest memories is that of seeing Ma across the garden in a pink saree. I went running to her and hugged her from the waist and she smiled and asked: "You recognised me from all that distance?" and I kissed her and replied that I would do that anywhere, with some pride in my voice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember the whole scene as if it happened yesterday, even the feeling I had when I was a little girl whose greatest joy was running to her mom when she came to pick her up from school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow I never want to let this one go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-2478058398395685208?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/2478058398395685208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=2478058398395685208' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2478058398395685208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2478058398395685208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/11/holding-on.html' title='Holding on..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-2780329291583598939</id><published>2009-10-26T11:18:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-26T12:19:31.530+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Thats it..</title><content type='html'>Getting admission in a good school.&lt;br /&gt;Scoring great marks, leading in sports.&lt;br /&gt;Getting admission in a brilliant college.&lt;br /&gt;Landing with a well paying job.&lt;br /&gt;Purchasing a beautiful house and a big car.&lt;br /&gt;Buying designer wear, jewellery, watches.&lt;br /&gt;Giving education to your children in the best schools.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all amounts to nothing. Underneath it all lies the basic emotion to be loved/ appreciated/ accepted, be it though making people accept you through your etiquites or through your money and power.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the rest, its nothing..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-2780329291583598939?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/2780329291583598939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=2780329291583598939' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2780329291583598939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2780329291583598939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/10/thats-it.html' title='Thats it..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-9216876156410901598</id><published>2009-10-21T13:49:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-21T13:56:35.002+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Gasping..</title><content type='html'>There are times I read stuff that sucks me into strange bouts of melancholy. It makes me uneasy, numb but weirdly content. I don't feel like talking, sharing and also realise that I should stop reading or at least thinking about the subject but I can't help it.. its like being under the influence of a drug which though you know is not good for you, is impossible to let go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My only hope is that I surface up elated and maybe just a little wiser.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-9216876156410901598?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/9216876156410901598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=9216876156410901598' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/9216876156410901598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/9216876156410901598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/10/gasping.html' title='Gasping..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-3553701940515438626</id><published>2009-10-16T10:47:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-16T10:56:29.336+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Thought..</title><content type='html'>It saddens me when I read something nice and do not mark/ write it somewhere out of laziness..&lt;br /&gt;I also realise that writing, using pen/ paper is more fun and if I don't, I'll forget the very technique.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-3553701940515438626?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/3553701940515438626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=3553701940515438626' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/3553701940515438626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/3553701940515438626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/10/thought.html' title='Thought..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-7639632315913660399</id><published>2009-10-12T10:14:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-12T10:52:19.423+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Design..</title><content type='html'>Currently I am into designing &lt;a href="http://www.nickjr.co.uk/shows/dora/index.aspx"&gt;Dora the Explorer &lt;/a&gt;footwear and its more fun than I thought. Probably its all about imersing yourself completely into it than going by the preconcieved notion that you do not enjoy doing a particular thing. However, the whole thing of designing gets to me at times, deciding the colours, choosing materials and the worst of all, considering production parameters just doesn't seem to be my cup of tea. I feel restricted when I face printing limitations and when vague fantasies like adding animation to a footwear and not being able to do so occur to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buying/ commercial side of things is more my thing.In my previous job, thats what I did, there was a strange adrenaline rush when every week I saw the sales figures coming in, where I'd go lengths to convince the sales people to sell the product of my category.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, this isn't so bad either though I hate it when I get these design blocks and I have to write unnessary posts like these to clear my head and make you read it..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-7639632315913660399?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/7639632315913660399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=7639632315913660399' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/7639632315913660399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/7639632315913660399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/10/design.html' title='Design..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-1040945582655357157</id><published>2009-09-14T10:42:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-14T10:47:31.935+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Sunshine..</title><content type='html'>I've missed sunshine these past few days. I realise that though I like rains, but a few hours of those makes me gloomy and craving for sunlight..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-1040945582655357157?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/1040945582655357157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=1040945582655357157' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1040945582655357157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1040945582655357157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/09/sunshine.html' title='Sunshine..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-7524615502053871988</id><published>2009-09-04T21:22:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-04T21:27:46.772+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Quit..</title><content type='html'>I think I would die a very content/ happy death now, if it chooses to come to me. I have great parents, perfect health, work I love, friends I care for and who care for me, pretty much got what I've wanted..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I believe one should quit the game at its pinnacle..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-7524615502053871988?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/7524615502053871988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=7524615502053871988' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/7524615502053871988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/7524615502053871988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/09/quit.html' title='Quit..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-8419596855924310175</id><published>2009-08-26T10:04:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-26T10:11:31.343+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Odd one..</title><content type='html'>I think I am eccentric. I like people who posses a certain kind of weirdness, I relate to them in an inexplicable way..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Directness, confrontations, explanations scare me. I don't even feel my age, much older or younger but never there. I know it does not make any sense but that's what it is all about, going by my own whims and fantasies, doing things which would be stupid for most but understood by some.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't explain it, its difficult, its ironic, a self I carefully guard but which forms the core of my being..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-8419596855924310175?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/8419596855924310175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=8419596855924310175' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8419596855924310175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8419596855924310175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/08/odd-one.html' title='Odd one..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-5393957021714919533</id><published>2009-08-21T13:23:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-21T14:18:18.593+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Simplifying..</title><content type='html'>It is particularly hard for me to come to a decision. Even when I know that something is not right and the other option available would do me more good, I still think.. I have people advising me, friends whom I can trust blindly but I just can't come upon a decision till something triggers off within me. I have no idea what chemical reactions happen, what sets it off but at that moment I don't have any doubts, no fears..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem with this process is that everything gets delayed no matter how right the decision is and that irks me off. Earlier I thought that once I get older, things would get simplified but whats happening is quite the contrary..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probably its the right thing, right time philosophy, the delay cannot be ignored anyhow..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-5393957021714919533?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/5393957021714919533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=5393957021714919533' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/5393957021714919533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/5393957021714919533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/08/simplifying.html' title='Simplifying..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-8988243840335138577</id><published>2009-07-10T16:10:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-10T16:15:22.712+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Simplicity..</title><content type='html'>Conversation with a friend who said and I remembered:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I realise that some relationships go beyond meeting each other frequently, or speaking regularly on the phone or even acknowledging each other's presence..&lt;br /&gt;It sparks up by a mere look exchanged, or just knowing that the other person exists in some part of the world...&lt;br /&gt;And that seems enough!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Strangely, it did..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-8988243840335138577?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/8988243840335138577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=8988243840335138577' title='25 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8988243840335138577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8988243840335138577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/07/simplicity.html' title='Simplicity..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>25</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-405885899424565825</id><published>2009-06-29T11:33:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-29T12:03:55.785+05:30</updated><title type='text'>To the both of you..</title><content type='html'>I've mentioned her before, when she was getting married last year, my younger sister who's very close to me, whom I thought I would get distanced from after she moved to another city but like all of you said, I did get closer to her. Now I even ask her for advice on issues like I would from my older ones, and she's always been there for me despite her adjusting to the new environment and post marriage changes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there's this another sister of mine who's always busy, the big socialite she is. She looks after her work, after a one year old baby girl, the whole of the family whose part I am lucky to be of. Though I don't get to speak to her much but the conversation we do get to have made me realise how I've ended up being one of the most pampered child of the family, by virtue of being the only spinster remaining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A small incident yesterday made me realise how lucky I am to have them with me, how they love me unconditionally and how both of them treat me like the younger one (the former mentioned is two years my junior and the latter just one year my senior). Now, there is no competition amongst us, but a very healthy relationship where all of us love seeing each other growing up, doing well for themselves and basically being happy..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This post is just my way of thanking these inseparable parts of my life and tell them how much I love them..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-405885899424565825?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/405885899424565825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=405885899424565825' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/405885899424565825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/405885899424565825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/06/to-both-of-you.html' title='To the both of you..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-8565774856452812889</id><published>2009-06-24T16:45:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-24T16:54:49.497+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Down and out..</title><content type='html'>Its been sometime since I've vented out my work frustrations on my blog but desperate conditions call for desperate measures and I certainly am bugged.. This is my fourth organisation in last five years(I know not a great track record) but I doubt I've been this frustrated anywhere or gone through this kind of politics ever or felt so humiliated and cheated, in short its been aweful. Also, I don't find any reason to stick to this place as I am not learning anything, not growing in anyway like my previous work places.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My collegues are nice but the senior management is sheer torture, their ways are beyond me and I can't see any way out, thanks to recession and lack of job opportunities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel caged and sufforcated and this is one place where I can't see even hard work doing anything for me.. I want an out!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-8565774856452812889?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/8565774856452812889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=8565774856452812889' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8565774856452812889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8565774856452812889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/06/down-and-out.html' title='Down and out..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-683917656867414595</id><published>2009-06-12T12:45:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-12T12:51:24.842+05:30</updated><title type='text'>All that matters..</title><content type='html'>Its so irksome, not having travelled anywhere outside India. Maybe its nothing but for me, it matters..&lt;br /&gt;When would I..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-683917656867414595?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/683917656867414595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=683917656867414595' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/683917656867414595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/683917656867414595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/06/all-that-matters.html' title='All that matters..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-408265330359511194</id><published>2009-05-29T15:06:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-29T15:29:49.475+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Complacent..</title><content type='html'>At times you are so happy and content that it scares you. I am scared too, scared not beacuse it may not last, but beacuse there might not be a chance to end it properly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as someone said, and I defied (unnecessarily), closure definately is important. Closure in the form of an explaination, or a fight, or tears, or just a hug and a kiss: just something final which you can look back upon and say "it was good while it lasted but the end wasn't so bad either"..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-408265330359511194?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/408265330359511194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=408265330359511194' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/408265330359511194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/408265330359511194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/05/complacent.html' title='Complacent..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-841328266673321736</id><published>2009-04-29T12:04:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-04-29T12:07:19.979+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Summers..</title><content type='html'>I hate summers!! I know most of us do but I’ve always justified somehow why I should like them. A new season, noise, sunshine and also because I happen to be a summer child but lately I am finding more reasons to think otherwise. The list is endless but here is goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- My house is swarmed with lizards, and the worst was today, I woke up and saw two of them mating in the kitchen. I got some sadistic pleasure buy throwing water at them and making them run apart.&lt;br /&gt;- There are all sorts or insects, everywhere I see.&lt;br /&gt;- The heat deprives me of all my energy. I come back extremely tired and go off to sleep, no socializing, no fun!!&lt;br /&gt;- People around me who’ve not discovered the uses of the deodorant stink and stink real bad.&lt;br /&gt;- Everything rots and smells, from the food to even the vegetables and fruits in the refrigerator.&lt;br /&gt;- Everybody around me is so worked up by the heat that they get all irritable and mad.&lt;br /&gt;- You cannot travel anywhere except the mountains which are dreadfully crowded.&lt;br /&gt;- Shopping at Sarojini remains no fun, minus the amazing summer wear you get there at this time.&lt;br /&gt;- Even water doesn’t do you any good.&lt;br /&gt;- I hate the way all the exposed area gets tanned. Even those sunscreen lotions feel all sticky.&lt;br /&gt;- You can’t see clearly while driving with the sun directly in your eyes. And I do wear shades.&lt;br /&gt;- There is no use taking a shower, by the time I am done, am sweating again.&lt;br /&gt;- Fresh is a word one can never use during summers.&lt;br /&gt;- Flowers become expensive.&lt;br /&gt;- Jeans become unbearable; they seem to gnaw my legs.&lt;br /&gt;- I see lights on the lampposts on, in the afternoon when the sun is so brilliant that you can’t see what’s ahead of you and then we get power cuts!!&lt;br /&gt;- I have to shampoo every alternate day, the hair don’t dry easily, the humidity does not allow them to and keeping the hair open does not remain an option.&lt;br /&gt;- I can’t breathe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can go on and on but it’ll be too much on Mother Nature so I’ll stop... Summers, I guess make me bicker too!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-841328266673321736?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/841328266673321736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=841328266673321736' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/841328266673321736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/841328266673321736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/04/summers.html' title='Summers..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-4797174465527860085</id><published>2009-03-25T16:40:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-25T16:52:09.629+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Little things..</title><content type='html'>Everything was the same old: I was lying on the diwan in my living room, bored,  grumpy and feeling a little lonely.  Books were strewn around, all three of them that I was trying to read simultaneously, there was food to occupy my attention and then the omnipresent television with its remote through which I was constantly changing channels, hoping that something/ anything interesting would catch my attention..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And luckily it did!! I came across this movie which had this song playing: “Sabse Peenche hum Khade”, a song I’d been hunting for ages now. Suddenly, life wasn’t that bad, I was smiling ear to ear and singing (trying to) that song at the top of my voice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder how little things can wash away all your glooms and a single song give you so much happiness, however short lived!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-4797174465527860085?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/4797174465527860085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=4797174465527860085' title='21 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4797174465527860085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4797174465527860085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/03/little-things.html' title='Little things..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>21</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-1220216715474054887</id><published>2009-03-16T14:31:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-16T14:36:03.385+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Easy exit..</title><content type='html'>I am so glad that I don't stay in Lucknow!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do miss my family, my siblings but on return from every visit I get to know something that forces me to wish I hadn't gone. Every visit makes me realise how foolish I've been to trust the people I have, how unsuitable I am where politics dominates the whole scene, where non-diplomatic people (like me) do not stand a chance..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And how running away probably is the best course of action to be taken!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-1220216715474054887?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/1220216715474054887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=1220216715474054887' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1220216715474054887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1220216715474054887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/03/easy-exit.html' title='Easy exit..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-5661483020262901901</id><published>2009-03-04T14:08:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-04T14:14:57.218+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Aftermath..</title><content type='html'>I wonder how important ones self-respect is. &lt;br /&gt;To what lengths would one go to preserve their ego.&lt;br /&gt;When would one give up and temptation take over.&lt;br /&gt;Is giving up sometimes a good idea.&lt;br /&gt;Happiness verses right/wrong, what’s a better choice.&lt;br /&gt;Are there actually no free lunches.&lt;br /&gt;How much sin can we get away with to guarantee us an average afterlife.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-5661483020262901901?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/5661483020262901901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=5661483020262901901' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/5661483020262901901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/5661483020262901901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/03/aftermath.html' title='Aftermath..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-2080079665193066519</id><published>2009-02-23T16:20:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-02-23T16:41:37.870+05:30</updated><title type='text'>More about me..</title><content type='html'>I usually am the scrape goat when it comes to taking anybody’s case for my friends. And since I am not going to tell exactly what I was told, I’ve slightly tweaked the conversation to my advantage..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reasons why any guy would love to have me in his life:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I don’t cling.&lt;br /&gt;- I love my space, my time alone with my friends minus THE guy. (Am sure any guy would understand that).&lt;br /&gt;- I am commitment phobic to quite an extent.&lt;br /&gt;- I don’t like mush.&lt;br /&gt;- I like romance minus the frills, for me the “thought counts” more!!&lt;br /&gt;- It is extremely difficult for me to express emotions.&lt;br /&gt;- I don’t mind a person who drinks and smokes, imagine escaping the nag who would constantly breathe on your neck to do this or not to do that.&lt;br /&gt;- I don’t crave attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know this post totally lacks any sense of modesty but hey, what the heck!! Am writing after ages and I deserve it...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-2080079665193066519?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/2080079665193066519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=2080079665193066519' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2080079665193066519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/2080079665193066519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/02/more-about-me.html' title='More about me..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-814112959986922327</id><published>2009-01-07T13:01:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-01-07T14:33:27.765+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The guy theory..</title><content type='html'>Conversation with a friend re-affirmed the following things for me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guys born and brought up in metropolitan cities, though are well educated and highly exposed, lack virtues such as open mindedness, tolerance and respect. They do not mind a girlfriend who drinks/smokes, wears "westerns", is independent and wants a carrier, but for a wife, they want just the opposite of the girlfriend types. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, small town men, who've studied/worked in metropolitans are seen to be less of hypocrites, more open minded and understanding and a lot more tolerant and considerate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am sure not all of them fit the above criteria but as its said, one rotten apple spoils the whole basket and I've happened to come across more than a few of the rotten ones..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-814112959986922327?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/814112959986922327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=814112959986922327' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/814112959986922327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/814112959986922327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2009/01/guy-theory.html' title='The guy theory..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-6460717256413534066</id><published>2008-12-10T23:48:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-11T00:13:08.500+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I've been..</title><content type='html'>- Sleeping and lazing BIG time.&lt;br /&gt;- Eating on my own.&lt;br /&gt;- Job hunting...kinda.&lt;br /&gt;- Reading, a lot.&lt;br /&gt;- Watching television like never before.&lt;br /&gt;- Wishing for things to happen.&lt;br /&gt;- Cribbing.&lt;br /&gt;- Wishing things were different.&lt;br /&gt;- Going for a lot of coffee.&lt;br /&gt;- Looking for a flatmate.&lt;br /&gt;- Keeping a tab on my bank account for the first time ever.&lt;br /&gt;- Missing people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In between all of that I had a great time at my best friend's wedding, met with old friends, gave an awesome bachelors to him (that's what I presume), realised that life could be fun if you had the right people by you..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-6460717256413534066?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/6460717256413534066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=6460717256413534066' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6460717256413534066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6460717256413534066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2008/12/ive-been.html' title='I&apos;ve been..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-946692153029649293</id><published>2008-11-09T23:23:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-09T23:25:04.811+05:30</updated><title type='text'>This thing called lonliness..</title><content type='html'>It was dark all around, dark and lonely and sad. It seemed that somebody had sucked the life out of her. She hated feeling that ways, procrastinating, juggling ifs and buts, trying to evade that fear that nothing would be right anymore, virtually giving it all up and running away.. She had been quite for more than ten hours and felt that if she stayed that way for a moment more, her mouth would get sealed and she wouldn’t be able to ever utter a word again, and not talking meant suicide, communicating had been her life line, her strength, probably one of the only things she prided herself for, and that fear made her scream into the empty apartment.. But there was nobody to hear her, nobody to reply or get worried and so she cuddled unto herself and let all those hushed emotions out: she cried!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-946692153029649293?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/946692153029649293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=946692153029649293' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/946692153029649293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/946692153029649293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2008/11/this-thing-called-lonliness.html' title='This thing called lonliness..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-1689676125388096496</id><published>2008-11-07T15:08:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-07T15:11:43.616+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Ahem..</title><content type='html'>Juggling between finding a job AND a flatmate can be quite a task and am trying to do just that!! So anyone or who knows anyone (female), looking for a place in Gurgaon, please get in touch with me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Help me guys!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-1689676125388096496?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/1689676125388096496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=1689676125388096496' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1689676125388096496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1689676125388096496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2008/11/ahem.html' title='Ahem..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-4042457028285831520</id><published>2008-10-31T00:07:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-10-31T00:12:15.544+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Coming back..</title><content type='html'>After being in Lucknow for a while now I’ve begun to see certain patterns within the place. The people here pick up whims and the whole crowd gets engrossed following the trend. The latest here is networking, everybody wants to know everyone, they talk about whose party each had gone to, discussing whose more popular.. At times it feels there’s some race happening and each wants to outdo the other but whom do they want to know, I mean who would the most popular ones want to know or do they find contentment in the fact that everybody knows them??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps it’s the festive season that’s brought out this trait amongst people or it’s the insecurity within them, the fear of being left alone?? Like wouldn’t someone want to hang out with like minded people, be around friends than just be with anyone for the heck of it?? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probably what I am seeing around me is new to me, I am unable to grasp how this place has grown like any big city where networking is a big deal, maybe being absent during this transformation has left me a little lost and I still associate myself with the city where small groups existed, where I had a tiny circle and that’s the only thing that mattered, where fun was being with them, being myself.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’ll take me a while to grasp it all, to understand the dynamics of it, to grab the big picture but I doubt I’ll be up for it myself ever but then as I’ve always believed, it would all saturate to a single line: “ to each his own”!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;P.S: This post is not intended to offend anyone at all, its merely a something I've observed which is taking some time to sink in.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-4042457028285831520?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/4042457028285831520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=4042457028285831520' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4042457028285831520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4042457028285831520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2008/10/coming-back.html' title='Coming back..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-3279589507785966839</id><published>2008-10-01T21:59:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-10-01T22:08:05.787+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Laughter and smiles..</title><content type='html'>God, prayers, wishes, good fortune, all these words make two people pop into my head: my parents. So like always, during some pooja ceremony while thinking of them, I thought about when had I last seen my Dad laughing, laughing as in gurgling with joy, as in the eyes going small and that happy crazy sound being emitted by the vocal cords, and sadly I couldn’t remember that last time.. I remember him being happy, happiness that beings tears to the eyes, relieved happy but not “laughing”..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then thought about me, when had I last laughed so hard that my eyes would begin to water? I sure did during school and then in college, even sometime while I was working but that seems like a distant memory now. I do remember the soundless laughter of mine but the people, the situation has faded so apparently it must have been eons ago. And then I realized that as I had begun to grow older, probably wiser, getting to know more about the world, understand the people around me better, I’d laughed lesser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I crave for those unreasonable reasons that gave me such happiness, that made people around me look at me and get confused between the state of happiness and madness, when a typical look or expression from a friend resulted in fits of euphoria.. I’ve begun to long for for those moments yet again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-3279589507785966839?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/3279589507785966839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=3279589507785966839' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/3279589507785966839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/3279589507785966839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2008/10/laughter-and-smiles.html' title='Laughter and smiles..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-1947161007647029071</id><published>2008-09-27T00:05:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-09-27T00:08:40.363+05:30</updated><title type='text'>An angry post..</title><content type='html'>These days I find myself thinking about the two-facetness of it all: people, situations, moods, life!! I realize how taking somebody at their face value can be totally stupid and that no matter what, some people don’t change. They don’t stop being sad when somebody else does good in life or when life’s working well for a friend, irrespective of continuous efforts of that friend to be nice. They try their best to poison little things, relationships with other people to name a few..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I unfortunately happen to know somebody like that. For years I’ve tried to be nice, helping in the little way I can but mostly be happy for her. I have never wanted the same in return; just the fact that she keep her mouth shut, I mean is that asking for too much?? But no, this woman “has to” interfere in my life, she “has to” say the good part to me and be all bitchy before others.. Is it so difficult to mind your own business, keep your tongue under control and if none of these at least not be deceitful??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn, I hate such people and I wish I could do all but confront her, however, the very thought of disturbing all the harmony is stopping me from doing so..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-1947161007647029071?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/1947161007647029071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=1947161007647029071' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1947161007647029071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1947161007647029071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2008/09/angry-post.html' title='An angry post..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-6191133049991092311</id><published>2008-09-12T14:53:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-09-12T17:14:34.412+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The whys of my life..</title><content type='html'>Alright, without further delay, I'll get on with my nonsensical rambling..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Why can't I get any sleep at this unearthly hour of 3:30 am?? Okie, that's fairly simple, I ended up having two mugs of coffee at Barista, getting carried away with the rains, the interesting book I was reading and by the stupid feeling of contentment that suddenly enveloped me. For a while I thought my life was awesome, to be thrown back to reality moments later..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Why the hell did I have to "grow up"?? I mean I was dieing to become an adult, not having to go to school, earn myself, be on my own but nobody told me it would be that difficult and homework issues, boys problems, baby fat, pimples and curfew timings were but minor bits!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Why do I need to take decisions?? I hate doing that but neither do I like somebody else doing that for me.. It sounds cool to say that I'd rather blame myself and shit (which works for me at times too), but it never hurts to blame others..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Why am I a Gemini (stupid one, its my parents fault!!) but I believe in the sun sign bit and think that confusion, indecisiveness, talking in paradox, not knowing what I want, being unfocused, stubborn, having my own way, being a freedom fanatic, such traits just arise due to belonging to this sun sign..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeh, I figured it out towards the end, its the way am born, the way I will remain and there's pretty much nothing I can do about.. I guess my whys are somewhat answered..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-6191133049991092311?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/6191133049991092311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=6191133049991092311' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6191133049991092311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6191133049991092311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2008/09/whys-of-my-life.html' title='The whys of my life..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-6617405856140914870</id><published>2008-09-03T12:36:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-09-03T12:37:17.707+05:30</updated><title type='text'>About homes and such..</title><content type='html'>Lucknow, especially the area I stay in has a lot of old buildings, with some new construction jutting far in between. Though I love modern architecture, those new houses with minimalist, all white interiors, dark brown furniture, huge skylights, et all but its the old homes that intrigue me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I often happen to pass many such old homes with faded, mossed exteriors, big windows with semi broken panes and wonder about them. I imagine the interiors would probably be slightly faded with assorted furniture, things scattered, maybe a lie back chair, the ones with old floral covers, that familiar, cozy smell lingering on them. I visualise rickety, well used furniture, so old that each has a story to reveal or is occupied by its favorite people. The kitchen would be small and cluttered, very close to the living area so that when a meal is prepared, the whole house smells of it.. A washing area on the backyard with a green Videocon and a succession of clothes lines for those umpteen clothes, a circular staircase that would lead to the terrace with potted plants in assorted  jars, pots, even bins or then maybe a well kept area..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then proceed to imagine the kind of people living there. Whether it would be a big family or a nuclear one living in a big house, if they'd be a happy lot or the continuously cribbing kinds, if there would be any old people like grandparents in the house who'd have built this place with a zillion dreams and how they would be having so many memories attached to every room, every bit furniture, even the linen being used in the house.. If the house would have pictures all over the walls, telling bits about the people who've been a part of it (am especially biased towards old pictures, the black and white ones)..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But mostly I relate it to my place, a big and old house with a courtyard in the centre and even a well.. A house that is about 35 years old to which new wings have been added to accommodate additions to the family, a place which isn't that old when you compare it to the old heritage homes but its not new either, a place that I happen to love despite its clutter, inspite of the functional lines of one room merging into the other but that’s one place I'd rather be than anywhere else.. And I guess that’s what makes it home for me..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-6617405856140914870?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/6617405856140914870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=6617405856140914870' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6617405856140914870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6617405856140914870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2008/09/about-homes-and-such.html' title='About homes and such..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-3238819207540143721</id><published>2008-08-26T00:04:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-26T00:15:53.729+05:30</updated><title type='text'>With nothing in particular..</title><content type='html'>Am writing this post for no apparent reason but merely to let myself know that I exist, in this world, on the cyberspace.. It is probably a confirmation of the fact (again to myself), that I can endure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, lots has been going on in my life, lots that am unwilling to write about at this moment. To summarise it all, currently my life is on hold, or as my dad put it,&lt;em&gt; &lt;em&gt;"sab kuch thama hua sa hai&lt;/em&gt;".. &lt;/em&gt;Hopefully all will be sorted out soon, till then I prefer to be cocooned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;P.S: Just realised that am talking in paradoxes.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-3238819207540143721?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/3238819207540143721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=3238819207540143721' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/3238819207540143721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/3238819207540143721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2008/08/with-nothing-in-particular.html' title='With nothing in particular..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-5467266954803672491</id><published>2008-07-16T12:55:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-07-16T13:11:21.632+05:30</updated><title type='text'>When the fat lady cried..</title><content type='html'>After a lot of deliberations, it was decided that I would be joining my parents from Delhi to Muzzafarnagar (where my cousin’s wedding had to take place) with a friend of hers in her car. The route being slightly unsafe, we were to go to Noida to my cousin’s Mamaji’s and all the cars would move ahead together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Muzzafarnagar is a small place with virtually no beauty saloons, I was to take the make-up artists from Delhi, which I did. I picked up these two people in my car, drove down to Sainik Farms and with the friend, to Noida. Even after reaching there on time, we were only able to begin the actual journey at 12:30 by which I was totally bugged, with a bad headache as I’d missed my morning tea (some addiction I have). Anyways, we reached safely by the evening by which I had lost my patience completely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chit-chatted a bit with everyone and then the bride-to-be began to get ready. I too started after an hour and a half and after the make-up and jewelry bit realized that the saree kinda thing (actually a readymade saree where you just have to slip into it like a skirt and then drape the pallu) was tight from my waist. Apparently, my contribution to my clothes limited to the extent of giving measurements and the boutique person made it as per my waist size rather than slightly below it. So for one, I had to wear it like really high, which on wearing heels looked even more short and adding to the agony, it was mildly crushed, to which there was no solution again. Now all of you must realize that I was very important at this wedding due to my singular status and I “had” to look good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a lot of tantrums, fights and crying before my Mom and my sisters (I dunno how and why they tolerate me at all), I managed to look quite nice and leaving the makeup artists in the hotel itself as they were to leave for Delhi the very night, we left for the venue. On reaching, I got a call from them that the cab hadn’t arrived and a commotion began. It was my responsibility to get them back and virtually after two hours of struggle, we managed to get them dropped (a different post on that fiasco later). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ultimately the wedding was a lot of fun: I did manage to carry the saree quite gracefully, a feat in itself and got complimented too; the juta churai (shoe stealing ceremony) was a piece of cake and my brother-in-law gave me a ring for it (imagine getting an award for stealing stuff).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I loved the most was the tata scene that all thanks to the now-bride went off without the usual crying. She’s one strong-willed person and said that she’d rather say her byes happily than going off crying. So that’s how the wedding ended, with lots of love, happiness, fun, family and laughter, the way it should have!!.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-5467266954803672491?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/5467266954803672491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=5467266954803672491' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/5467266954803672491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/5467266954803672491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2008/07/when-fat-lady-cried.html' title='When the fat lady cried..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-8757489392849816993</id><published>2008-07-02T17:05:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-07-02T17:09:19.474+05:30</updated><title type='text'>At the risk of sounding rude..</title><content type='html'>It is said that when it rains, it pours.. July-December is the busiest time of the year for me. A time when I am loaded with work; high work pressure and long hours lead to some mistakes which further trickles down to a lot of shouting and screaming, the result an extremely pathetic day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You call home to find some solace but amidst all the marriage festivity everyone is distracted, making you miss home all the more. One by one the phone is circulated between all the aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews, they laughing, singing, dancing and mocking you for not being there. The sarcasm is evident when they say &lt;em&gt;“tum to bas naukri karo”&lt;/em&gt; (you just do your job), without realizing that this is the last thing you want to do, when all you want is to run home. The choice you’ve made is for a reason, for the sake of your independence, freedom and not for money (as mentioned a few times by some relatives).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everybody knows that money is an important but not the only factor I work for.. What they don’t understand is that I care for what I do, that I hold responsibility for my actions, or even for the lack of it. So though I miss home terribly, the fact remains that I can’t quit everything, a fact that sooner my family accepts, the better it would be for all of us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-8757489392849816993?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/8757489392849816993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=8757489392849816993' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8757489392849816993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8757489392849816993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2008/07/at-risk-of-sounding-rude.html' title='At the risk of sounding rude..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-899051013791565718</id><published>2008-06-25T11:39:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-06-25T12:02:14.946+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Behavioral confusions..</title><content type='html'>At times I fail to comprehend a lot of things, call it my lack of observance or plain ignorance. I fail to understand behavioral patterns of certain people, what makes them tick, how their psyche functions and I detest not knowing, the absence of me figuring out the reason/logic behind any kind of disorder.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It confuses me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-899051013791565718?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/899051013791565718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=899051013791565718' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/899051013791565718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/899051013791565718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2008/06/behavioral-confusions.html' title='Behavioral confusions..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-387881681417828017</id><published>2008-06-23T15:25:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-06-23T15:31:57.626+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Conversing in the present..</title><content type='html'>Can’t get away without this one. Have been going through a strange time right now in terms of people, feelings, the very surroundings in general and all the zig-zag has left me confused and a little bugged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the traveling I did this month was a lot of fun. “Fun”, a word I need to remind myself of more and more: fun with work, with friends, fun reading, fun doing nothing. Anyways, I need to get back into the grind, work and yet have fun like the good ol days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A peculiar kind of pressure has built up at home with me being the only spinster left. My younger sister gets married next month and my niece sometime this year. I can virtually hear the worry in my parents’ voices. They think that I’d be upset and all and try to keep themselves calm before me but the fact is that I got too much on my plate to even think on this issue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This month has also been kinda an eye opener for me. My birthday made me realize about certain people I have in my life. I’ve been off on certain terms with my family but now given up. My past worked against me and I got nothing to say in my defense. But now I’ve grown up and hopefully the howling scene of the last time won’t repeat itself no matter how much it actually hurts. Am also scared of letting somebody off the hook but its inevitable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately, its been impossible to control my temper regarding this dude at work. He’s not a bad chap work wise but other than that, he irritates the shit out of me. I get so pissed with his fucking behavior where he pretends to be my knight in shining armor that I can barely keep myself from abusing or slapping him. He’s trying to force me to go out for dinner with him and I CAN’T!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now a certain call has distracted me from the whole issue and I’d say you guys should be glad of the same or I’d have gone on and on considering my present state of insanity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;P.S: This is the first time I've used foul language in my space but I couldn't find another subsitute that would show how angry I am and am not proud of it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-387881681417828017?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/387881681417828017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=387881681417828017' title='20 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/387881681417828017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/387881681417828017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2008/06/conversing-in-present.html' title='Conversing in the present..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>20</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-6565418122684491526</id><published>2008-06-18T11:00:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-06-18T11:25:28.003+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Varying definations.</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;"This was what happiness was- he'd never known it before; this melting away, this exhalation, your guts spilling into your head, filling your eyes- your mind transformed into your body, your body instinct with the joy in your mind, this sensation of reality having met its end."&lt;/em&gt; &lt;strong&gt;The Glass Palace by Amitav Ghosh.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found this scribbled on a piece of paper I found deep within the pockets of my bag. And I remember jotting it down because it was one of the nicest ways I'd read love being described as. I seem to derive a new meaning out of it on every read.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-6565418122684491526?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/6565418122684491526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=6565418122684491526' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6565418122684491526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/6565418122684491526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2008/06/varying-definations.html' title='Varying definations.'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-8485553185694622127</id><published>2008-06-13T17:57:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-06-13T18:03:31.671+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The undisclosed stuff..</title><content type='html'>This one’s a dicey tag: one that wants me to reveal secrets.. But as the trend goes, I’ll be slightly evasive like burf who tagged me. The list goes like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.I envy people who’ve stayed in foreign countries on their own. I too want to do that just for a tiny bit of it.&lt;br /&gt;2.I love my parents beyond anything.&lt;br /&gt;3.I have a habit of touching my earlobe while sleeping.&lt;br /&gt;4.At times I do not understand lyrics of a lot of English numbers.&lt;br /&gt;5.My idea of romance includes candlelight and fragrance (and I claim not to be mushy).&lt;br /&gt;6.I get embarrassed when a guy approaches me.&lt;br /&gt;7.I can’t understand anything remotely concerning numbers.&lt;br /&gt;8.I love wit.&lt;br /&gt;9.Temptations are very difficult to let go of by me.&lt;br /&gt;10.I think I’ve come this far by sheer luck and some honesty and I possess no real talent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I revealed way too much than I intended to and like always, I do not pass this one to anybody. Please do it if you want to and I’d love to read it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-8485553185694622127?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/8485553185694622127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=8485553185694622127' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8485553185694622127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/8485553185694622127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2008/06/undisclosed-stuff.html' title='The undisclosed stuff..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-7459685309679858698</id><published>2008-06-09T12:19:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-06-09T12:40:09.082+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The long and short of it..</title><content type='html'>- I suck at treks. I did pretty well climbing up and going down but the fatigue was beyond imagination. This in spite of that hour and a half regime I've been trying to follow.&lt;br /&gt;- My tolerance level is much more than I thought. The bathing area near the Temple was beyond dirty/gross, I managed to take that bath and not crib.&lt;br /&gt;- People have dual personalities, personal and professional For now I like my boss and I know tomorrow I'll get back to disliking him.&lt;br /&gt;- I don't know how to fend off that guy without being mean.&lt;br /&gt;- That sleep after one Combiflam was blissful, I think I connected with God.&lt;br /&gt;- Its strange how that one person is the only one you want to see no matter how strongly you dislike him when you are totally lost in a strange place. I couldn't control my emotions after I saw my boss after almost two hours of being lost.&lt;br /&gt;- Some people inspire faith just by their mere presence.&lt;br /&gt;- I am lucky, I've people who love me, I realised that on my birthday.&lt;br /&gt;- My birthday/trip from which I had zilch expectations was very good.&lt;br /&gt;- I need to exercise more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-7459685309679858698?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/7459685309679858698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=7459685309679858698' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/7459685309679858698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/7459685309679858698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2008/06/long-and-short-of-it.html' title='The long and short of it..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-1827384759330793451</id><published>2008-05-30T17:30:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-05-30T17:34:06.488+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Of venting it out..</title><content type='html'>I was intending to write about something else, about how I like to watch the just arrived baby pigeons that look like little fur balls in the nest on my bathroom ventilator. About how I am obsessed with hands and feet of people, probably them being one of the first things I notice about anyone, the bone structure, the length of palm versus the fingers, the neat or cluttered lines that run across it, the nails, their shape, everything, and how I click them more than the faces whenever am doing that bit of photography..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now am going to ramble about my work. Lets be honest, am not great at what am doing currently, neither do I enjoy it half as much as I did designing but am learning, giving my best shot and trying to get there. The annual increment was depressing, although I hadn’t expected even that much but then what the heck, am human and humans compare and when I did compare with my colleagues, I felt like crap. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adding on to the brunt, I unfortunately told the exact figures to someone!! The calculations begun, the increment against the inflation rate and then my consequential increase in purchasing power.. That sucked big time!! I mean its alright to be totally practical but at that moment I didn’t need that, I wanted a friend who could tell me that money was shit and that it didn’t matter and like my Dad always says, I don’t work for money, I work to keep myself occupied, I work because I love to do what I do and primarily I work to achieve my ultimate goal (and am not revealing that one!!). The discussion kinda hurt my dignity and probably later I’d realize the importance of this reality check, but not now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, the only consolation is that on the whole my account shows a very good figure and I’ll be buying myself that IPod Shuffle I’ve been waiting for!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: Am damn tempted to post my salary slip and ask for comments but I know I'll regret it later on so I shall refrain!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-1827384759330793451?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/1827384759330793451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=1827384759330793451' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1827384759330793451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/1827384759330793451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2008/05/of-venting-it-out.html' title='Of venting it out..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30956527.post-4318807163688782311</id><published>2008-05-21T15:45:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2008-05-21T16:10:18.532+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Through the mind's eye..</title><content type='html'>As indicated in my previous post, boredom has captured my life and inspite of my many efforts to get over it, I’ve failed miserably. This boredom has led me to visualize places I’d like to go to, mostly those the ones I’ve read in books..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;Paris:&lt;/strong&gt; It’s considered the most romantic city of the world. The museums like Louvre,the Churches lend to the city a certain charm and mystery, especially intensified by Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code. And then its got that dream like flavour to it, lent by the painters, musicians, the architecture, I can go on..&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;Egypt:&lt;/strong&gt; Pyramids, mummies, architecture, grandeur, mystery, need I say more!!&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;Kerala:&lt;/strong&gt; “God’s own country”, how aptly said.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;Vegas:&lt;/strong&gt; The glamour, the larger than life image, the blinding lights, the sheer richness and opulence!! I once want to have enough money to be able to blow it off at the best casino there and hopefully not regret it too.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;Russia:&lt;/strong&gt; For reasons unfathomable to even me, but as somebody tried reasoning my own reason, romance perhaps. I got enchanted by that place after reading Ayn Rand’s We the Living.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;Bahamas:&lt;/strong&gt; The three S’s.. &lt;br /&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;Morocco:&lt;/strong&gt; There’s a certain royalty about that place, a cultural heritage and that enigma factor, something that most of the Islamic cities have. Plus, I like the way its pronounced..&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;Ladakh:&lt;/strong&gt; The hills, the clear blue skies and lakes, the serenity, the air that is so fresh and cold that it hurts when you breathe, the subdued paleness where one colour blends into the other, like a water painting, the whiteness so stark that you have to shut your eyes.. No I’ve not been there, not yet!!&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;Tibet:&lt;/strong&gt; Buddhism inspires me, rather fascinates me even though I do not know much about it.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;Australia:&lt;/strong&gt; Gotta see the coral reef and witness the Opera once in my lifetime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are the places I’ve heard about, read about, wondered of but am sure there’d be a zillion others that though do not have the discovery or enigma factor I look for in a place, they’d be a wonder just for the beauty, the peace, the ones am still to learn of and add to the list.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30956527-4318807163688782311?l=hither-tither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/feeds/4318807163688782311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30956527&amp;postID=4318807163688782311' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4318807163688782311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30956527/posts/default/4318807163688782311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hither-tither.blogspot.com/2008/05/traveling-through-minds-eye.html' title='Through the mind&apos;s eye..'/><author><name>Sam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11873891074231648601</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_4r9Vzz3ZrXA/R2e2d7FxlkI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hrEFYbSaCXI/S220/74174560.jpg'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry></feed>
