Snap shots about life and people. It was his first day at the new job and he wanted to be on time. So a shower at 7. 00 AM in winter did not seem too early. He looked around for his towel from among the heap of yet to be unpacked clothes from his suitcase. The flat was a mess! The previous occupant, had left it with a lot of packing material still strewn around the place. And the landlord had done nothing to have it cleaned before handing over the key to his new tenant. The singer had completed the.

Dive in the world of fantasy, only coming out gasping into reality. Never be entirely idle; but either be reading, or writing, or praying, or meditating, or endeavoring something for the public good. A fake engagement- a real wedding. 8221; Why is it that every time I try to do something nice for you, it backfires? 8221; Anjali asked her brother, thoroughly put out by his attitude that evening. Anjali continued, stuffing flower.

A love story like no other. As soon as the phone rang at 12 am, I felt my pulse pounding inside my chest. I picked up the phone and waited to hear him say my name. It was the most beautiful sound in the world. He asked me to call him back in two minutes. When I did, he began with his questions. Kaise ho aap? He asked softly. Aise mat bolo, I protested. Aap mujhe miss kiya? Haan, of course kiya, I replied. Kyun? Mujh mein kya khaas hai? Ro mat.

Three years ago, Ananya Iyer and Rajshekhar Malhotra parted ways when she moved to New York . They meet again at a wedding, neither expecting to face the other. As they struggle to gain closure, they realize that perhaps closure may not look as they thought it should. Updates will be sporadic, due to my uncertain and busy schedule as a student. I will try to be as regular as possible though, and I hope you stick with me through the duration of this story.

A Journey Of Self Discovery. To sun rising from ashes,. It lives on; it soars,. The person you once were. The person I once was,. We found you and I,. Looking forward to reading this journey again on your beautiful blog.

I thought this was a kitchen garden. said Khushi as she fumbled with the shovel. It is he said, his attention focussed on rooting the mint sprig. Why am I planting chrysanthemums then? She said, not a little frustrated. She was expecting to hear his footsteps, but instead she felt him walk towards her, kiss her top of her head before walkin.

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,. Or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,. In secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms. But carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;. Thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,. Risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

As always the green bits are meant to be Hindi. Khushi replied and hugged him. No, your mother just needed a friend right now and I was the only one available. Why are you being like this? .