To Maa.....With Love,,, :-)

Most often when my mom asks me to join her in the kitchen, I cry out foul like that utterly clumsy creature to my dad that his poor girl is being victimized of child labor (I know that I am no more a child, but that comes out of habit from past) and then what follows is simply the norm of every house, she’s being reminded that I am still a kid and that it’s not appropriate to let me work… cool, isn’t it? Similarly, sometimes I am being asked to clean my messed up room, sometimes to oil my impoverished hairs….the list is endless, it just doesn’t seem to get over but goes on and on and on…. Yes, we do have our share of mother-daughter clashes but I feel, that’s something which’s coming over from ages and is as normal as the daily hair fall…. and these regular nagging and the resultant arguments make the bond grow from stronger to strongest!
Knowing that I am a daddy’s girl, kindly control your hiccups when you bump on this piece of write-up, which is strongly based on the role of mother, coz boasting of your ‘daddy cool’ all the while doesn’t lessen the amount of love that you garner for your mother. After all, I was nothing more than an under developed zygote before she decided to bear me in her womb and bring me into this world; I was nothing more than a frail kid before she draped me with her unconditional love and gave me the strength to stand against all odds; I was nothing more than a fussy teenager unless she gave meaning to the words like ‘empathy’ and ‘congeniality’ for me, and I could have never risen from Shilu to Dr. Payal Ahmed if it wasn’t for her persistent support whenever I was to slack. She never needed any gesture in particular to make out whether I’m happy or in pain… may be that’s what we call ‘the Mother’s instinct’ and you know why?.... coz all these years when she saw me climbing step by step the ladder of time, crossing the different stages of life, mellowing from a playful schoolgirl to a matured woman, with utmost precision has she noted each and every move of mine that denoted the sort of phase I was going through…I realized this fact when I moved out of home to pursue my graduation and had to live in the hostel…listening to my voice over the phone, she would immediately understand my trouble and ask me, ”So my girl, wasn’t the dinner good enough or you had a tiff with your best friend”?...when I’d say none of the two then there would be no further assumptions, but a clearly evaluated question “Okay, tell me the score of your last class test”?...and to my response of “let’s talk later”, she’d ask me to face it instead of skipping it coz according to her, that was the only thing which could save me from scoring poor marks in the next test. She completely believes in the saying – “Failures are the pillars of success”… and I must say that her viewpoint towards life is so very optimistic that just one conversation with her is good enough to make you fall in love with the very concept of leading the life of a human on the planet named Earth to be a bliss! Comparing her with other women, who too are wives and mothers in their own rights, I find her to be far more submissive and sacrificing than the rest of the lot; … instead of thinking about her own pleasures, she finds contentment in pacifying our desires…. I just imagine that how can she do that coz I am not of the sort that she is…. But then, I guess I’ll get to settle the query only after I attain motherhood… may be that’s the reason why a mother has been ranked so superiorly in all the holy books…. that’s coz a mother can’t be selfish to her kids, she will give away her dreams to shape up her children’s future, she will revolt against the whole world but won’t compromise with the happiness of her child, and she will strive till her last breath to give her children the best out of life no matter whatever circumstances come her way…. Good or bad, her life is ruled by the events taking place in that of ours, the feeling of ‘me’ or ‘mine’ is non-existent for her, precisely, her world revolves around us and terminates on us… her role as a mother is so magnificent that I sometimes forget to recognize her as an individual…..and I really really fall short of words to be stated in praise of her.
Ma-Papa! I love you both for having me and brother…. what else should I say when I got parents who can take the worst of pains throughout their lives just to see that stint of smile on their children’s face…but yeah, I would certainly like to learn the skills of parenting from this couple with whom, by sheer luck, I happen to share my genetic make-up and I am so very proud of it. Like any other child, I too am indebted to them for the lifetime, and I know very well that I can not in any way return the favor…the rate of interest plus the surcharge is too high, you see!...The only thing I can do is to thank them for their efforts and carry forward the legacy of those values that they have instilled in us so that we are prevented from creating some real big blunders ( I have seen them being done and then suffer the consequences by my fellow mates) as a victim of a waddling age group, and sculpted us into responsible adults with a finer outlook towards life.
And lastly, I thank God for giving me such an adorable pair of parents coz of whom I am what I am today…. Cheers to Thy excellence in granting me the best!

Yaadein...

Kuch bhooli-bisri yaadein hai,
kuch misri se meethi yaadein hai,
kuch jasbaati si ye aakhein,
kuch uljhi-suljhi si zulfein,
ek thandi hawaa ka jhoka aake
unhe dheere se sehlaate hai.
Kuch bhooli-bisri yaadein hai,
kuch misri se meethi yaadein hai.

Kabhi sochke lub muskaate hai,
kabhi aakhein num ho aate hai,
kuch mere daaman me simti hui,
kuch samay ke dhool me lipti hui,
kabhi fursat ki ghadi mili to
us dhool ko hum sarkaate hai.
Kuch bhooli-bisri yaadein hai,
kuch misri se meethi yaadein hai.

Kuch mehez puraani baatein hai,
kuch pyaari si saugaatein hai,
in anjaane raaho par
kuch anjaani mulakaatein hai,
in palbhar ki mulakato me
kuch dhundle se pad jaate hai,
kuch humraahi ban jaate hai.
Kuch bhooli-bisri yaadein hai,
kuch misri se meethi yaadein hai.

Rozana ki bhaga daudi me
kai sapne tootkar bikhar jaate hai,
kuch yu hi sang beh aate hai,
kuch adhoore se reh jaate hai,
un sapno ko pankh dekar,
apni chunri me pirokar,
ye satrangi chunar lehraatein hai.
Kuch bhooli-bisri yaadein hai,
kuch misri se meethi yaadein hai.

Waqt ka pahiya chalta hai,
hum bhi sang chalte jaate hai,
anjaane me,majboori me,
khwahisho ki pehredaari me,
kuch naayaab sa peeche chod aate hai,
ye wohi puraani baatein hai,
mere pehlu me jhilmilati
kuch ojhal shaamein-raatein hai.
Kuch bhooli-bisri yaadein hai,
kuch misri se meethi yaadein hai.

Apni parchaai ki is kadi se
jab bhi hokar hum guzartein hai,
un puraani galiyon ki fizaayein
mere rooh tak ko mehkaatein hai,
kabhi mushkil bhi aa jaaye to
jinhe sochke dil behlaate hai,
aisi bhi kuch yaadein hai,
kuch geeli mitti ki khushboo,
kuch bin baadal barsaatein hai.
Kuch bhooli-bisri yaadein hai,
kuch misri se meethi yaadein hai.

Of yet another rainy day...

Mumbai getting drowned due to the overdose of Rain God’s mercy being showered on the city, has been making news, in fact breaking news, since a good three days; ours being a far-flung suburb, also has to share the fate more or less, quite evenly. With the usual problems of the overflowing drains, the infrequent trains and some miffed up brains, life in Mumbai goes on at par with its spirit which refuses to stand still and take a gasp when it comes to facing hurdles. On contrary, it grows even stronger thus complimenting its busy lifestyle which hardly has any time left to recollect the melody of ‘Dhaga la lagli kada’!! Nobody is at fault as it is the norm here to meet the cruel timings and being a part of the city means you are no different!
Done with the morning session, I packed my bag, put the raincoat on and switched off the lights as I prepared to move out of my clinic; had pre-decided to fill the fuel tank of my vehicle on the way to home. Of course, in my case it’s flexible by 5 to 10 minutes but not exceeding that, as everything is pre-scheduled. It was 01:50 pm. Just as I stepped forward to shut the windows, it started raining densely. I had to stop till it somewhat reduced in intensity; I stood besides the vast casement to tap a view of the happenings around …and just saw the droplets hitting the pucca road outside producing some consecutive swift splashes that completely refreshed me from within. I looked at the tree whose branches enveloped the sky in the front lane, the fog partially settled on the leaflets, and the rest pierced through the bipennates; its mesmerizingly smoky structure guided me to another world : a quick flashback into the time which I had left far behind - the time when I was a messy kid, then crossed the vulnerable teenage and counting upon all those experiences emerged into an adulthood that’s stuffed with innumerable liabilities.

In childhood, we never had the high-tech gadgets at our home, that was a non-digital era. To engage the restless kids into play, evenings would mostly be spent in the playground nearby, where mom would sit at a corner and watch us playing, nagging us at times for the numerous mischieves, yet drawing pleasure to see us do them. The weather would suddenly change with the drizzle on its way to flutter down; she would immediately take us beneath the Neem tree, ensuring that none of us both get wet. Jaipur is a place of desert soil, so the rainfall never lasted longer, and as soon as it vanished, we would go back to play again.. accumulate the wet soil and make tiny ‘gharondas’, fight over the quintessential ‘whose is the best’?, and then finally jump over it considering that it’s better to destroy it by ourselves instead of someone else doing it after we left!

Back then, we didn’t own a car, or a scooter. Dad had a pedal cycle, and from the bus stop he would often pick up us both, and make us wear the mini-sized raincoats, mine maroon and my brother’s was of light green color. They were not big enough to encompass our school bags, which sometimes had to be carried outside. Brother would sit in the front, he had a tiny seat there, and I would be behind.. on the way came our beloved spot – the ice cream parlor. Dad would ask “you people want to have ice creams”? The answer had to be an undisputed ‘YES’…and believe me, the ultimate joy of having ice cream with the little drops sprinkling over it is just superlative! After finishing the delicious treat, we happily went home. But all the happiness lasted until I opened my bag in the evening, only to find my books heavily wet. I really cursed the rain that day for the extra efforts that followed in drying them under the fan.

Here comes another hilarious sardar tale right from the campus of Army School, Ahmedabad, year 1998. The season was, as usual, of monsoons. To safeguard his shoes from getting moistened, Angad, the great innovator, had come to school as if a specimen of chronic case of severe Elephantiasis. He had covered his feet (along with shoes and socks) nicely by two white colored polythene bags and to my surprise, they were more or less inflated (am clueless about how he must have done that) giving him the look of a perfect clown. After reaching the classroom also, his affinity for these ‘protective devices’ just didn’t seem to get over, and as if that wasn’t enough, he jumped on the stage and began shaking his legs to the tunes of ‘Dooba dooba sa rehta hoon aakhon me teri’ …and the moves were, I swear, terrific and mind(skull)blowing DHISHKYAO…!!

Of college, I got end number of incidences, the very first that hits my brain are the walks with my best of pals under one umbrella, pushing each other for securing the safest space, however, none of us could succeed… the scene was like – kisike honth, kisike gaal, kisike baal … all had their share of encounter with the tiny globules; and finally we reach Goodies, almost half drenched in rain, we order the hot lip smacking delicacies …ummhh… I may not be able to recall what I ate yesterday, but enjoying a shared meal garnished with the giggles of your sweet buddies, has to be something worth being a part of your cherished memories!
Chatting with friends, cursing the management, listening to love stories, and solo study sessions, all happened sitting on the porch of hostel terrace, embracing whole heartedly the influx of badra,baarish,boondein; sometimes they would choose to trickle down the outstretched hands, and next while they would refuse to flow down the bare calves which swung as if the strings of pendulum one after other; admiring the obstinacy of the minute sparkles to remain adhered to the wheatish brown epidermal layer…contribute to some fond memories treasured forever!

Lastly, the saga of working life flushed by the downpour…the super special hot coffee day in the canteen (courtesy TMCROP) after long, hectic working hours, with the soothing instrumental playing in the background would prove to be of absolute delight and the best unwinding source for me and my roommate, Anagha. Sitting on our reserved corner table, sipping our favorite beverage, from the window behind, silently we would watch the chameleon, soaked in rain, camouflaging from light green to olive to brown and finally reddish brown, to attain the color of the bark of the tree…hmm … acting smart? … then we would turn to each other and the obvious burst of laughter would follow… hopefully, that’ll keep us alive till 99 :-)

Traversing the stream of past lanes, I somehow realized that Earth, is the most unique knitting workshop of the supremely skilled Almighty, and in the form of precipitation how meticulously He’s crafted out a canal between the wretched shrub and its blooming Primrose, the barren land and its thirsty fissures, the anxious mammals and their hibernating den, the hopping toddler and his purple paper boat, the malicious mortals and the sacrosanct divine, the wicked world and the beautiful paradise.

My sight suddenly fell on the reflection of the clock on the pane, the mirror image showed 02:02 pm, that meant I had to rush, the rain had also slowed down its pace but didn’t stop completely. I made it sure that I locked the clinic well … went to petrol pump, after loading the tank with its required energy drink, then pulled out a hundred rupee note from my pocket… but alas! The raincoat failed to prevent it from getting its part of bath and I had to leave the venue promising the guy there to pay on my way back…
Hmm.. that’s how it is “man proposes but rain disposes” ………..cool lines.. indeed !!

Tribute

I dedicate a small legend to those, mighty and wise
who lead a dreary life, bartering the greener meadows,
and at times leave behind, craving eyes,
empty laps and shattered dreams of their widows.

Desert, forest or snow, anywhere in the Indian map,
gladly they do move around, fetching life in their fists.
rubbing their tired eyes, to compromise on the nap,
waking up with the dial striking four on their wrists.

Strong, fearless, and agile,
Combating the violent storm,
Taking all in their stride,
Surely, they are the men in uniform.

Blazing sun, or chilly wind,
Or amidst the darkest of cloud,
Rising high on the spirited swing
‘Jai hind’ they do cheer aloud.

Bruised, lacerated and yet the zeal,
Injured, but unwilling to conclude
For wounds that refuse to heal,
Timeless chivalry do they exude.

Of bullets, bloodshed and the misery,
The struggle in the battlefield,
Coffins greeting their victory
To offer us their gallant shield.

So true are the colors of freedom
Blended in the shades of crimson,
Though it’s valued rare and seldom
their hues surpass the horizon.

Thy splendid mothers be thou proud,
As martyrs never die, but get immortal
when draped in the glorious shroud,
Heaven welcomes them at its portal.

Tinted in olive, white and pale blue
We pay due honor and tribute, and the crucial salutation
to the great souls guarding our integrity, who
live by chance, love by choice and are killed by profession.

Zindagi - do pal ki ....err ....BUMP AHEAD ! ;-)

“I wanted to fly high and touch the sky, and now it’s that I can’t even creep” ..remember the story of the father-son duo, Daedalus and Icarus?...Daedalus’s instructions to his son to fly at mid-levels and his son’s fervent desire to fly high,…and the relative consequence? … Yup, he had lost his son forever!
Rash driving, has become one of those few trendy things that helps you bag a distinct(read superior) place among the fashion conscious peers of yours who gladly mark you as the 'super cool dude'; you become the 'guy of dreams' for every gal inside and out the campus, who then start the search for methods of wooing you, the hottest hunk ruling their hearts, in every possible manner; and nonetheless you manage to climb the top notch in the popularity chart comprising the names of those uber cool fellows who I feel should rather prefer to participate in shows like 'Khatron ke khiladi' than coming to college, ,after all 'What is this life if full of care'?
Well, these kinds of dicey games may, where on one hand, give you a certain high on adrenaline rush for the time being and some instant grabbing of eyeballs; but there’s definitely a spot where you are at crisis and that, I suppose, implies to your ‘rational brains’ … coz by doing that you not only attempt to put on stake the life of others but also place a question mark on the probability of your survival!
From the personal experience of my own, of the encounter between life and death, I found one thing that it’s plain blunder to confuse it with an object of sheer adventure coz playing peek-a-boo with something like your own life is a real dangerous space where you are venturing to, and that’s an idea I don’t think I would ever approve of…. raha sawal kudiyo ka, they would anyway dump you once they get a taste of your abnormal driving skills after catching hold of the backseat of your phatphati!
So, act sanely and give a thought to wearing the hood over head, driving at safe speed levels, applying brakes on bumpers, and abiding the traffic rules… that isn’t a bad idea at all…. coz as we all know that destruction is the easiest thing which an animal can also perform well by using it’s primitive untamed senses, so that isn’t some exceptional task, you see…. And perhaps, it’s so very ‘uncool’ to be handcuffed for the unintended mishap, that can even ruin few years of your life along with those of whom you have caused damage to… the momentary pleasure extraction procedures are clearly not as reliable as you view them…. And going by the B- town(the ultimate source of inspiration to the stunt maniacs), zindagi is ‘do pal ki’, and so we must always be cautious of the bump ahead, coz that is meant for the purpose of safety and definitely not for it’s antonym.

Dedicated to Pranjali Parashar - my classmate from college who breathed her last after meeting up with an RTA…May your soul rest in peace!

A murky tale !

Have been wanting to write over this subject since quite a long while now.It has not been much time that I have come across a strange 'ritual' that was(is still) completely an alien concept to what we proudly affirm as the Indian Culture - The Hen Parties! . . . . . . . . . Yup..the much hyped Western tradition has been imbibed by a certain bunch of socially celebrated elite 'Indians' so casually that the customary Sindoor and Mangalsutra have taken a backseat against a pointless and weird ceremony that I guess,outshines the rather more reasonable Pre-nuptials! ...And to top it all,the nudity,the vulgarity,dirty dancing,the undue splurging of the disposable money(that could have been served as alms for the destitutes) over liquor and flesh,..are few of the events that comprise the essence of such nights,,even the desserts served aren't spared when it comes to depiction of their sleazy fetishes...more disheartening is when you come to know that the people throwing or enjoying such parties see no harm in doing so,as they feel that this is what life's all about..to enjoy it to it's fullest..and it really doesn't matter even if the level of 'enjoyment' turns up to be uglier than the round of questionnaire in 'The Moment of Truth' or the most popular swayamvar girl vowing on her virginity! ......There are more additions to these hen nights besides those which I've enlisted,but it seems that God has gifted my conscience with a certain degree of authenticity that I don't feel like going beyond a point that hinders the grace of being his blessed child! Please google the term to know more.. PAUSE BUTTON ON
PLAY AGAIN.. So guys,do you still find the Indian woman beautifully draped in the six yard cloth piece,in a way that not even the toenail is visible,yet more sensuous than the skimpily clad ultra modern hotties with their plunging necklines? ............. 'Not anymore' has to be the answer of choice! . . . . Co-incidentally one of my good friends once messaged me some strikingly funny yet true lines - 'Badi badnaseeb hai aane vaali peedhi jo apne maa ke aanchal me naa so paayegi,kyuki jeans pehenne vaali maa aanchal kahan se layegi'. . . Be it the swift divorce rates,the dressing up style,the delicacies,the rampant hurling of abuses or the newly introduced internet slangs...we tend to replicate almost everything from these blondes! . . . . With this kind of the progress rate,I can foresee the height of patriotism being unfolded when we'll sing in one voice "The Star-Spangled Banner" instead of our very own "Jana Gana Mana"! . . . . . . Duhh...I've got a forgetful nature..didn't exactly got to remember that we Indians are born to ape the West in every possible way so that the xerox-sheet also surrenders in front of us chanting in Hinglish lingo "Jai ho Bharat Mata ki,...It happens only in India"! . . . . . . Hmm...'a fact worth getting thoughtful over', must be the prompt output from your meningeal enclosures at the moment...well,it's something that is bound to happen if even a trace of Indianness is intact in you..or else feel free to join the bracket of a desi idiom,we worthily put it together as - "Dhobi ka kutta,na ghar ka na ghat ka"..lovely,isn't it!

I guess I am done with my part of job of enriching your knowledge about the changing face of India,,,I think this's what the former prime minister of India wanted to convey by his slogan 'India Shining' which was rather misinterpreted as 'the rise of Indian standards'.Imposing exorbitant tax rates on entertainment won't help anymore..you gotta literally raise your standards to own the intellect that has a firm approach against the odd things happening around..

I'll pray that the 'previliged lot' acquires one such soon.

Signing out.
A follower of optimism.

Eternally beautiful - Bendshil

Working with a rehab centre for spastics named SANGOPITA and its residential centre being located in Bendshil, I m supposed to visit there often to impart therapy to the mentally & physically challenged children.
It goes this way that after I am done with my job in day care centre, I have to rush to the residential one, yelling on the driver to be quick as most of the times he’s found busy enjoying his share of tea upstairs. The journey starts at around 11:30 am in the morning, takes around 15 to 20 minutes to reach there, and those few minutes are like the precious eternal moments stolen from the stormy reckless life that doesn’t render a micromilli second of the very abstract that claims to wait for none!
Bendshil is a small village in the interiors of Badlapur city. Taking right turn from the well equipped Kondeshwar highway goes a narrow single road with curves at unusual points which serves as the means of transport for the handful of vehicles passing by as well as the pedestrians, and yet no one complains of the ill-infrastructure coz for them this thin path with large chunks of holes at every next step itself is not less than a bliss!!
I prefer to catch hold of the front seat, just next to the driver coz that’s the only one which prevents you from the sudden jerks on your backbone and while peeping out of the window I find the folks leading their lives in a totally different entity.
INITIALLTY I used to look out so as to breathe a sigh of relief and provide my eyes behind the spectacles with its basic need as I had heard somewhere that looking at green helps you getting minus your specs. SLOWLY it drew me to the deeper levels of biosphere and I started moving more and more closer to the endowment named NATURE. Houses made up of mud and thatched roofs, and through its dark opening is visible a little cradle kept aside, probably the infant taking nap says thanks to the silence in the vicinity when he sneezes producing a small ‘achchoo’ sound and then going back to sleep again! Heaps of fodder for the grazing cattle dumped on bare soil, that’s partly wet due to the scanty raindrops showered over it during the wee hours of dawn; and glimpses of the 21st century bullock carts, with horns painted red and blue and garlands entangled around their necks, are few of those things that give this lovely incredible rural piece of land a total thumbs up!.. I bet it gives a fairly good competition to the one depicted in the picturesque landscapes! There’s a primary school also named ‘Nagar Parishad Vidyalaya’, and the tiny tots there may not have the privilege to step into the elite Carmel Convent nearby, but again, are unmatchable in their own sphere of balancing between their studies and household chores laden on them right from the time of their first cry!
Adoring every aspect of this beautiful small arena (pun intended), what I hate the most are the hollow voids dug out in the roads which leads my back to go through hell; spondylitic changes I can feel without the Cobb’s Angle being detected over Roentgenographic examination!
Now as every good thing comes to an end, so had to this journey. Can’t compare the oldie van to Sukhoi Supetjet, but yeah, it’s certainly not less than the reliable ‘Dhanno’!!
As the destination comes nearer, I start thanking God that my paraspinals and vertebrae are still perfectly aligned in their normal position, and start cursing the ‘TIME’, humming these lines inside – ‘aye jaate huye lamho, zara thehro, zara thehro’.
I think the proverb is much correctly said ‘all is well that ends well’, and so was this small fabulous expedition that was no less than a maze!

Rendezvous with thyself!

When your life’s packed with loads of stuff (apart from those enlisted in the pending column of course) almost 24*7, you rarely obtain the time to even check out the very basic happenings around your life, viz. remembering the DOB’s of your best buddy comes under the job list of the reminder option of your cellphone coz the content inside your cranial vault is running short of memory…err.. or should I say the storage capacity of the ‘memory card’ has expired?.. well , whatever …and what if the phone runs out of battery in the hour of need?..the seemingly tech-savvy you, just tend to relate yourself to that ‘missed call alert’ by missing out the rare opportunity of being with your loved ones, which otherwise also, you have to carve out with great great efforts!
Seems like we ourselves have taken the responsibility of jumbling up our respective lives under the garb of so called ‘stressed-up situations’ and ‘hectic lifestyles’ ! We take proud in tagging ourselves as the ‘participant of rat-race’, as often the answer to many of our friends’ questions (read hearty requests) is again a question (accompanied by a convincingly fake smile), ie. “Where is the time boss? , will catch you later” or closer home, in our Mumbaiya ishtyle, the quote sounds much better (read more straight) – “Tere saath baad me baat karta hai, abhi apun ke dhandhe ka time khoti nahi karne ka kya”? …And why blame others when I myself don’t remember that when did I last take an evening stroll with my mom; or getting more techie, had replied to a friend’s SMS (other than the urgent ones of course, see how mean I can get?)…Things getting more and more pathetic, taking pity on me, one of my friends messaged me some really nice and adorable lines which read ‘Earlier we used to say “let’s meet and plan out something” and now we say “let’s plan to meet up someday” …how the perspectives of looking at life changes simultaneously with the process of growing up? …nobody complains as everyone has got that flip side to him/herself which draws a line somewhere that is supposed to keep the relationships alive.., but only through a certain distance (mind it, it’s ‘distance’ and not ‘displacement’, coz expanded, it’s defined as the shortest path taken and none of us prefer to opt for that)… and one day this fine line grows up into a tough barrier which stands firmly in between all sort of relations viz. family, friends, humanity and claims itself to be the best and most faithful creation of yours, will never defy you and for a change, possesses the virtue of preparing yourself to stand still courageously in the so called ‘worst phase of life’ and I am in total agreement with W.H.Davis, a genius poet you see, will defeat Bejan Daruwala with his future forecasts!
Well, this was my initiative of fixing a date with your own self, with few head banging sessions and some sarcastic lines along with; trying to be more polite and courteous …I just want to warn you with one lovely sentence containing heavy dose of reality, that may or may not act as an eye-opener depending on your priorities in life which states ‘The axe is hanging in its right position, exactly where it is supposed to be, and on whom it’ll fall next is over to you to decide’.
So guys, lets hope for the best! ...or replace the word ‘hope’ with ‘strive’? …take a dip in your think tanks people, and decide yourselves! Do take out time from your busy schedules to take a sneak peak at this one… Don’t disappoint me un’intentionally’… Chow!