<?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-12177624</id><updated>2011-12-14T18:54:54.807-08:00</updated><title type='text'>all the works</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>acher-fude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16522976442854341170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>15</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12177624.post-2313621698458890382</id><published>2009-11-17T22:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T22:21:35.371-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Voices</title><content type='html'>In the recent events that happened in India, it is obvious that our country is failing somewhere at the foundation level to let something this outrageous happen. I am talking about the Shiv senas' bold move at curbing a language from being spoken in a nation that is democratic. It really is bewildering to think of how nervous it makes people in a whole state by a single political party. I have seen read news about racism towards Indians in Australia. But what would you call this? I live in a place where the government does not care even if the whole world collapses as long as this place stands still. That does not mean I care any less. It makes me want to possess super powers to be able to destroy these men. But that is all that I can do. Wish for the unreal. That is me, a spectator of what happened through a media that really is unable to do anything but write. But what about the government! I really did think that the younger leaders will change the way India thinks. I never was a dreamer so I knew it would take time. Lets just say they might not be able to prevent things from happening. They might not be powerful. But they can definitely cure when there is a disease!! I hate to feel this weak. I bet every single person who has read the news or watched it feels the same. I only need to know if we would like to be powerful enough or read the next days paper and move on.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12177624-2313621698458890382?l=alltheworks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/feeds/2313621698458890382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12177624&amp;postID=2313621698458890382' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/2313621698458890382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/2313621698458890382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/2009/11/voices.html' title='Voices'/><author><name>acher-fude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16522976442854341170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12177624.post-7031612551278680228</id><published>2009-05-17T23:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T23:10:28.269-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I try</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;the day isnt complete without you...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;cant hug you, cant kiss you,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;cant run to you, cant laugh without you,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;cant turn to you, cant lean on you,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;how will I endure.....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12177624-7031612551278680228?l=alltheworks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/feeds/7031612551278680228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12177624&amp;postID=7031612551278680228' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/7031612551278680228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/7031612551278680228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-try.html' title='I try'/><author><name>acher-fude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16522976442854341170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12177624.post-3461681980932348999</id><published>2009-04-27T01:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T03:32:30.003-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hop On- Hop Off</title><content type='html'>I did not realise that I did not have a more than Rs.3.00 in my pocket when I decided to make a short soul searching trip. It was a spur of the moment decision. So packed my haversack with a towel, a top, sanitary pads, lip gloss, a soap and water. I threw my purse in the last minute without checking it for money. I left the house at about 9 A M. Walked till the bus stop close to my house and took a bus to another place close to my house. It was the worst summer in my small life. There was no shelter in the bus stop where I got down. So I had to sweat it out and wait for the Hop On- Hop Off bus that comes by at that time. By then I felt like a half roasted chicken not that I was going on a date but it did ruin my mood a little. I then got in the bus. There were a total of 6 people in the bus. Mostly 40+ women. There was one old guy and one good looking young guy. I did not really have my hopes high with it being a weekday. Anyways, the bus was air-conditioned and felt nice and big. It was a big yellow bus. I kinda liked the colour of the interiors. All yellow seats and terribly bright lights. And the whole bus smelt like a chocolate cake. And I knew instantly that it must be the Axe body spray. My husband used it for a while and he never smelt like a cake. Maybe a chocolate but never cake. So things seemed fine. The bus was going to a place called &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Mammallapuram&lt;/span&gt;. And it made a few other stops and a couple of other women in their early 30s hopped in. I sank into my seat comfortably and hugged my bag hoping it was my last journey to the center of nowhere. Ahem! I really did think it was a free bus. But this chauffeur looking guy dressed up in white, with a broad smile and a very funny&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;English&lt;/span&gt; accent said "Good Morning". He held out something in his hand hoping I would take it.But I declined politely. His reaction changed just a wee bit and he said "ticket". So I raised my eyebrows and took it. Holy%^&amp;amp;! I thought I had money but the ticket amount was far from what I thought I had. I started choking. I took out my purse anyways and tried to check how much money I had. Fuck! Rs.3.00! I was almost in tears. But I sheepishly took out my card and waved it at him. He stared at me like I was showing him the middle finger. He saidsternly "only cash". So I gulped and waited. He gave me a curious look and walked past me to the others. In about 15 minutes he came back and bent down real close to me. I thought he was going to spit on me. But he just came close to my ears and said "last time. dont repeat." He then gave me a receipt. I was nt breating yet. But maintained to keep a lamb face for a while and after he went back to the drivers corner, I let out a big phew. I was overjoyed. I was watching out the window and the weather outside seemed like one of those winter days when you can sit by the fire and sip coffee. It was because of the windows. So I was sitting there trying not to imagine a day like that with my husband. Afterall, we did have a fight. And it seemed very weak of me to be imaging things like that with him. So I shook my head out of the reverie and looked straight. Suddenly somebody sat in the seat adjacent to mine. So I looked. It was one of the ladies who hopped in later during the journey. She looked at me and smiled. She seemed very friendly and asked me where I was studying. So I smiled a little and told her that I was married and that I was a house-wife. She seemed really happy about this and asked me if she could come sit next to me. I did not see any harm and agreed immediately. The other lady who was with her came and sat in her seat now. And they started talking in a very different language. Sounded a little bit like Oriya, not that I knew how Oriya sounds like. But then they started talking to me in Tamil. They asked me what my husband was doing and what I was doing on this bus all alone. So I told them that I was going to see a relative. They giggled like complete idiots and said they were going to meet some friends and have fun. I felt happy for them. One of the ladies then picked up her bag and took out a candy and asked if we needed it. I declined the offer. The other lady took it and was sucking on it. In a while they got very giggly. I felt consious with all the attention we were getting. The lady took out more candies and asked if we needed them again. I took one from her and held it in my hand. The other lady put it in her mouth. They stopped laughing so much and started talking about how women should excercise to be fit. I nodded my head now and then. By now the conversation was getting tedious and I found them a little annoying. Suddenly the lady sitting next to me said she knew this great move that can help tone the tummy. And out of the blue turned around and held my hip. I got up immediately and felt her hand give a little poke in my hip. I started walking out of the seat and told them that I was sitting behind. They laughed a little and let me go. I stayed wide awake for the next 2 hours. We got down at Mammallapuram, which I later realised was Mahabalipuram. Ahem! I really did feel extremely stupid about the whole thing and wanted to get back immediately. I thought about my husband and almost choked. This was the first fight during which I had not shed a drop of tear. I still couldnt cry so I left it at that and looked around. I knew this place so well. I had come here with my parents a long time back when I was still seeing my husband. I remembered all the shops. I remembered all the small things I had bought for him. My parents did not know I was seeing him then. I had bought small pendants made of stone for him and he was really happy when I gave it to him. He even wore it around his neck for a while. Sheessh! All these memories were killing me when suddenly the conductor came around and announced a tour of the place. We were supposed to spend 2 hours there. But I really couldnt wait. So I grabbed my bag and ran to the bus that was waiting to leave to Chennai. I sat inside and realised that I did not have money again. So I got down again and followed the crowd. We walked all over the place like it was a trekking expedition. My legs ached so much that I felt very weak. The sun was overhead. it burnt every cell in our bodies. I held the bag over my head and walked like a slave. We had to stop at a hotel for lunch. It was the most shady restaurant I had ever seen in my whole life. I was feeling extremely thirsty so I took out my bottle and drank some really hot water. So while others started eating I sat down in one of the chairs and thought about why people eat. One of the ladies asked me if I wanted to join her. I refused politely though I wanted to accept immediately. After lunch we walked again for another terrible hour. The beach was the last place I wanted to be at at the most horrible time of my life. And yet I sat there and enjoyed the blazing sun that could give me skin cancer. The waves made the most scariest of noises in this part of the world. So I took it all in. Every part of the torture that the trip was. It was time for us to go back. And just like all the time, I had to go to the loo. I told the conductor about this and he showed me this place that was nothing like a toilet and where men and women did not seem shy of each other. It really is funny that I thought about my husband at that moment the most. I cried like a baby then. He would never let me use a place like that. He would probably take me to a star hotel just for this sake, but never in a 1000 years let me use a toilet like that. Alright, I know it sounds cheesy but that is the truth. Infact I had a background song playing in my head. A very old and depressing romantic song. It doesnt matter. Then I decided to hold as long as I can and got into the bus. The minute I got into the bus the good looking guy I was taking about came and sat in the adjacent seat. I prayed that he doesnt start talking like those women. But the guy did. he moved in a little close to say something and I could smell alcohol. That was the last straw. So I got up and moved to a seat behind. The next 2 hours was again such a pain. We reached Chennai in a while. I did not have the money to take a bus or rick so I started walking towards my house. I must have walked about 2 Kms burning like Ghost-Rider when somebody started honking really loud right behind me. When I turned to look, the suns rays hit my eyes directly and I felt blinded for a minute and thought I was going to pass out. But I heard someone say 'Aye' in a familiar voice. It startled me for a minute but when i squinted my eyes to look, it was my husband. It felt like anti-climax. Like a moment in cinema when I had to run into his arms. Only his arms werent open he wasnt in tears. I realised that was because he had to hold on to the bike and he was shocked to see me walking at a very awkward time with a haversack. So I did not mind too much. He then yelled at me to hop on the bike quickly. No softness there. So I did. I was relief like I had never known before. I still had to take a leak, so that was a little uncomfortable. But it was enough for me to feel safe. We reached home and I ran to the loo first. He then stared me for a while and asked me to explain. I said "Okie" and went and hugged him tight. He seemed extremely rigid but he wasnt pushing me away. So I held on and cried. he seemed to soften a bit and kept asking me why I was acting silly. I knew he was angry from last nights fight. But I did not answer and held on. I needed this and it did not matter if he was angry. He then stopped talking and slowly held me. Slowly he hugged me a little tighter. Then it was a complete hug. He kissed the top of my head and held me for a while and said "it doesnt matter. stop crying. See you are in my arms." It was more tears for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12177624-3461681980932348999?l=alltheworks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/feeds/3461681980932348999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12177624&amp;postID=3461681980932348999' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/3461681980932348999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/3461681980932348999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/2009/04/hop-on-hop-off.html' title='Hop On- Hop Off'/><author><name>acher-fude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16522976442854341170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12177624.post-7536245238859113831</id><published>2009-04-26T21:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T22:49:29.442-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I say</title><content type='html'>It's really hard to explain why people do what they do. I know that everybody is the hero of their own story. Sometimes it's difficult to think from the outside. Here too, I definitely feel like the protagonist. But I wonder if that might not be right and realise there is no guilt. Atleast, there is nothing on the lines of his accusation. Its definitely tiresome to be reading about the same person let alone write. Although, thats the only thing happening in my life at the moment. This is probably an outside view for me, considering I have been feeling like the victim  sometime and a downright ugly villain sometime. God knows, there are people out there who will be more than excited that I feel this way. And again, it really is boring to write about marriage. The truth is, it always is about marriage or work for married people. It is not the that the knowledge is limited for us. More that the affectation on matters of the emotional side is high. If we are really happy about the going we might not even want to talk about it but when the going is extremely bumpy..... we always want to talk, write, read, empathise, sympathise and what not about it. I think that really is the solace for many. It is an outburst for sure. It will be that until we've said everything that needs to be said. Sometimes a spouse might not understand that need. Especially if they are people who can let off steam and not think about it later. I dont believe that everything can be solved if two people sit together and talk. That only works with people who talk. It does not work with people who do not like to make a discussion out of everything. Mostly men I have observed do not like to talk. And women ruin whats left by talking about it too much. I definitely belong to the second category. Its especially hard when talking is the only thing that can solve a certain issue. Its funny that way because we give up when its crucial whereas under other circumstances we would have never given up talking. One  of my friend says, its easier for people to end things than to analyse and resolve. She is right. If it was love that existed between two people then its a lot of pain. But if it is merely a co-existence, it is a lot of money. One of my cousin hanged her two very young children before she hanged herself. There will be a million people who will call it cowardice. But I can never in a million years understand what turbulance she must have been through to do something of this magnitude. We all knew that she suffered a unhappy marriage. And one day she decided to erase any signs of her 28 year old existence from the face of earth. She had left nothing of her to even remotely remember her. Her husband is remarrying in exactly a years time from the incident. It makes me think that love or not, men can forget. And it doesnt matter if you are dead or alive. That knowledge hurts a little. Because they not only forget our existence but also our presence around them. There are exceptional people. But they never belong to us. And there are exceptional women but we can never be them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12177624-7536245238859113831?l=alltheworks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/feeds/7536245238859113831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12177624&amp;postID=7536245238859113831' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/7536245238859113831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/7536245238859113831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-say.html' title='I say'/><author><name>acher-fude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16522976442854341170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12177624.post-6380080108654445450</id><published>2007-07-06T06:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T10:30:21.583-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A fight that stretched too much!</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Am back! I had the time of my life in the past 4 days. Hey! you all know this guy I write about all d time. Yeah well, this guy is my husband now. Its funny I know. .................long pause(u guys can laugh). So anyways, the going isnt all dat great. He's gone back to name calling. It was a fight. A very funny fight at dat. He likes to scream. I know dat. Always did. But this time I listened carefully to wat he was saying and it really was funny. And his face! lol. Animation at its best. Lord! I sometimes think it frustrates the guy just to see me staring at his facial muscles twist and turn instead of cowering at the sight of a huge guy with folded fists. LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL. He definitely is stronger. And dat makes everything even more funny. Alrite, let me give u a brief picture of wat really happened. So we have a fight. Dont really know wat it was about after the first 5 minutes. But he is a very abusive guy. So he starts with "fucking moron, its my fucking house, your fucking parents, my fucking peace, don fucking talk......etc....". His parents are in the house. My younger brother too. Now he's worked himself up into a frenzy. He breaks my phone in 2 pieces. Dat really hurt cos I liked my lil phone. While all this is happening inside our bedroom his parents are really worried and are eagerly waiting outside. He ends his sentence with "Get the fuck out of my house". So I pack my bags. But he is still screaming. When I scream I mean scream. Like when somebody is hurting physically. He also has a tight grip of my left arm. It started to hurt but then there was so much happening that it was difficult to feel the pain. His parents have a grip of my right hand but not so tight. His parents are pulling me behind. He was pulling me inside. So my body was pretty much twisted like I was practising yoga postures with their help. He is still screaming. He was saying "Why the fuck are u still here? Why the fuck are you still here? Repeat 20 times." All this time pulling my arm. His parents were telling me " stop talking. stop talking. stop screaming. reapeat 30 times." All this while stretching my right hand all the way inside the room. And my brother was saying " You go. You go. repeat 10 times."  Funny thing is, I wasnt talking. But his parents thought I was and they were asking me to stop talking. So the whole scene did make it seem like it was a big fight when infact it was only commotion. And because I like to annoy people, I was watching all their faces and it made me laugh. But while trying to control my outburst, I ended up sounding really flat when I said " I am not saying anything". More screaming and more hand pulling. It was ofcourse over in a few minutes. But I definitely felt like my arms were longer. It still feels like that. And in my mind I was thinking, the next time I would ask them all to hold my legs. It would be very very funny. But I am sure I could use some stretching. All said and done, the fight continued for the next 4 days. But during the heat of things, I could not tell them to hold my leg instead. And all 4 days, I ended up getting my hands stretched over and over again!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12177624-6380080108654445450?l=alltheworks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/feeds/6380080108654445450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12177624&amp;postID=6380080108654445450' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/6380080108654445450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/6380080108654445450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/2007/07/fight-that-stretched-too-much.html' title='A fight that stretched too much!'/><author><name>acher-fude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16522976442854341170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12177624.post-113520111784212508</id><published>2005-12-21T09:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-21T13:38:37.873-08:00</updated><title type='text'>everybody hurts</title><content type='html'>Talk about priorities that change! Its a bad feeling already that you have to be on someones' priority list already and not the special person, let alone be numbered. It is pretty funny that there has to be situations that hurt you apart from the ones that make you sad. I mean, imagine feeling like a complete jerk when you get hurt. Like getting hurt is not enough. In a way it teaches you that everybody have limits. You cannot have special entry to anybodys' so called personal space. Coming to think of it, what makes you special when someone says you are? I just think that they mean they like talking to you longer than the rest. And that is absolutely no reason to feel special about. You probably are a good listener. And that is all. Sometimes when dad tells me that I cannot be everything, I did not quite believe him. Now, I do. Infact, I do not think I can be anything. Yesterday was the worst day of my sick life. It pays to maintain dignity and only be that much interested in the other person as much as the other person. Errr that sounds confusing. I like that guy who said "be a mirror". But I am extremely unable to be one. But I shall keep trying. Somehow I keep accumulating the things people say. I can forgive but I just cannot forget. The more I try, the more I remember. And one day I might explode with all the things people say. Like a balloon full of words. And it is going to be a big stink. It makes me wonder though if I am probably all that people call me. I might be. I am afraid to even think. My friend and I went to this temple near my house. And I cried strangely. So this uncle who is incharge of the temple is also my neighbour, started narrating the temples' history. It was pretty interesting. This uncle and his wife do not have kids. So while narrating the story, he paused for a moment and looked at us. Then he said 'I wronged my first wife, which is probably why I do not have a kid today'. He did not seem too sad though. Maybe he was too old to regret it. But I completely forgot why I was crying. And then my friend told me that the guy she likes did not reciprocate her love. She is 27 and she has a back problem. So nobody was ready to marry her. She is very pretty though. And I heard myself telling her that things that make you sad are the things that will not let you be happy. That was total bullshit. Best part is, she vowed to help herself that day. Hmm. It sure is a nice feeling to know that there are a whole lot of other people in this world who require a jerk like me to make wise ass comments like that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12177624-113520111784212508?l=alltheworks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/feeds/113520111784212508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12177624&amp;postID=113520111784212508' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/113520111784212508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/113520111784212508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/2005/12/everybody-hurts.html' title='everybody hurts'/><author><name>acher-fude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16522976442854341170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12177624.post-112535344043976018</id><published>2005-08-29T14:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-29T15:10:40.866-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a nice title</title><content type='html'>People told me dat all d titles sound disastrous. So am changing it. Lemme sing you all a song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you try your best but you don't succeed&lt;br /&gt;When you get what you want but not what you need&lt;br /&gt;When you feel so tired but you can't sleep&lt;br /&gt; Stuck in reverse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the tears come streaming down your face&lt;br /&gt;When you lose something you can't replace&lt;br /&gt; When you love someone but it goes to waste could it be worse?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lights will guide you home&lt;br /&gt; And ignite your bones&lt;br /&gt;And I will try to fix you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And high up above or down below&lt;br /&gt; When you're too in love to let it go&lt;br /&gt;But if you never try you'll never know&lt;br /&gt;Just what you're worth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lights will guide you home&lt;br /&gt;And ignite your bones&lt;br /&gt; And I will try to fix you&lt;br /&gt;Tears stream down your face&lt;br /&gt; When you lose something you cannot replace&lt;br /&gt;Tears stream down your face&lt;br /&gt;And I&lt;br /&gt;Tears stream down your face&lt;br /&gt; I promise you I will learn from my mistakes&lt;br /&gt; Tears stream down your face&lt;br /&gt; And I&lt;br /&gt;Lights will guide you home&lt;br /&gt; And ignite your bones&lt;br /&gt;And I will try to fix you.&lt;br /&gt; Its a special dedication to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey its okie to involve in sef-indulgence sometime!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12177624-112535344043976018?l=alltheworks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/feeds/112535344043976018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12177624&amp;postID=112535344043976018' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/112535344043976018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/112535344043976018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/2005/08/nice-title.html' title='a nice title'/><author><name>acher-fude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16522976442854341170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12177624.post-112533528749519877</id><published>2005-08-29T09:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-29T14:13:01.253-07:00</updated><title type='text'>hateville</title><content type='html'>I live in Hateville in my mind. I have become disastrous and disgusting. For example this guy I know called me on my birthday. Now usually I would have been rude and asked him to fuck off. But silly me decided to be nice to this guy because it was MY birthday. So I started the call nicely, ended it nicely too. Now this guy sounded genuinely happy that I was being nice. So the next day he tried again but this time he messaged me. But he acted like a dick-head. So again I made it clear to him that he was not the kind of guy I would make a life with in a million years. Then I realised that it made me happy to be my usual self and chase him away than to be nice to him. The next day even Nandhu had to face the wrath. He did not call me on a Sunday and it pissed me off. I know what  you are thinking. That's no reason to be angry. Yes, it was no reason to be angry. And yes, it cost me the love of my life. I dont know if he would ever call me again. But it does not matter to me anymore. Its not really the reason itself. But it was his attitude that pissed me off. He took me for granted. It should not have bothered me ideally. But it did. And boy! what a fight we had! And we also decided to call it quits. I know. All for a fucking phone call that he did not make. So see? I live in Hateville. I feel like a moron who does not how to respect others' space. I even feel like a dick-head myself. I know I hurt people. And Jesus Christ! where on Earth do I find words like those when I fight?? I need a distraction. And when I spoke to Nandhu today he told me that I dont trust him enough which is why I keep fighting. It is true. I had to listen to it from the horse's mouth to realise it. But it was too late to tell him that and besides if I accepted the fact it would mean that he would never like me enough ever again. But that's just me. I always ruin my life. Sometimes I feel like a kid being so immature all the time. But that's only with Nandhu. Otherwise I take care of my family and brother and friends and they have had no complaints. Not until I met Nandhu again atleast. So maybe it is good that we had the fight. My mind feels elated after I had that fight. I am able to breathe easy now. I was feeling all worked up until then. Now am feeling better. So am not really a psycho. Thank God for that. And he is not a saint. Thank God for that again. Because if he were he would have been upset that I dont trust him. But he seemed to feel relieved himself that he said it. So there you go realisation is good for health. So is a good fight. But I did not quite feel hate towards him. Maybe because it was my mistake this time. Ahem! Its always my mistake. I am so inclined to making myself look like a jerk every alternate day. For the super chill person that I used to be, I have certainly changed for the worst. Imagine, I dont even let him sleep peacefully. It's not just him. I do that to my parents too. I get all worked up when they want to do something that requires my attention. I end up feeling miserable that I could not even take the slightest pressure. I use strong words again. The words hurt me. I know it ruins my parents. Yesterday mom asked me if I loved her as much as she loved her mother. So I was happy to answer that one and said 'Of course I do'. But she said that she did not beleive that I loved her as much. That hurt like crazy. Then I kind of realised what it feels like when I have to say the same thing to Nandhu. But then I thought, that's my mother. What she says might hurt me. But he would not feel the same way necessarily. So what do I do? I really need help. Where do I start? I would not want to see a shrink because the next time there is trouble I would want to go to him immediately. Maybe a distraction. Maybe an adventure. Or better yet, I should just run away. To a distant land. Goa. Yipppeeeeee. I could become a saint there. I could tatoo all over my body and wear all the jewels one could think of. Even smoke some grass everyday. Sing funny songs. My own songs. And to earn money I could become a professional killer. Take lives to make a living. Does it sound cool or what! I think I would be better off killing people and making lives miserable than trying to be nice. People realise their careers during the course of life. When you are good at something,take it up as a profession. So am going to do exactly that. So anybody who needs to kill,ruin,damage,break,hurt lives, call me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12177624-112533528749519877?l=alltheworks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/feeds/112533528749519877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12177624&amp;postID=112533528749519877' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/112533528749519877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/112533528749519877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/2005/08/hateville.html' title='hateville'/><author><name>acher-fude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16522976442854341170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12177624.post-112490731639627112</id><published>2005-08-24T10:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-24T11:15:16.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To Krish</title><content type='html'>Hi monki,&lt;br /&gt;           U will always be a monki and a bad grand son. hehe. Am happy dat there is someone who takes d time to chat wit me though u sound completely stupid. But seriously, u r an amazing friend. More than anything else, it is gud to talk to u. I am glad dat there is a Badaga in this world who thinks like me. And where can there be a monki who is as brilliant as u and a badaga who is as dumb as u and I??? I donno if ur bunch of moronic friends tell u this but u r a friend in deed. Nybdy who has seen ur picture think u r my brother. But I tell them dat I adopted u and dat u are spending all my money in Australia(evil laugh). Don worry abt ur future krish. There are a lot of things dat can go wrong before u do one thing right. when u do d right thing once, nothing else will matter. Not ur past,present or ur future. It doesn matter if d beginning seems difficult. Besides u know who is there to help u. And u know who will kick u if u do d wrong things. I know u will make me proud. If u dont I will make sure dat u don see daylight nymore(evil laugh again). And Krish, thanks a ton. For being there when I needed to scream or cry. U have been a wonderful lil monki. But monki, u r very patient for being a guy. U r amazing. Am sure there will be a nice girl in ur life though u can b a lil monkish at times. But all d same I hope u come here soon so we can start our restaurant together. I hope u come here soon so u don feel lonely nymore. So u stop spending my money(hahahahahh). And please adopt ur grnad mother and buy me all d things a gud son wud buy for their grand mother. And remain a gud boy.&lt;br /&gt;Nive&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12177624-112490731639627112?l=alltheworks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/feeds/112490731639627112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12177624&amp;postID=112490731639627112' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/112490731639627112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/112490731639627112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/2005/08/to-krish.html' title='To Krish'/><author><name>acher-fude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16522976442854341170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12177624.post-112482797142052140</id><published>2005-08-23T12:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-23T14:27:20.240-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a morning</title><content type='html'>Yawn! Yawn! Another boring day. Stretch! Stretch! No Yoga. No Gym. No Tennis. No lifestyle. Just another day. A cup of coffee dat smells like cockroach puke. Vessels dat need to b washed. But a sink dat smells like a thousand cockroaches puke. Blea!Blea! A toilet dat smells like a night club dat is frequented by vampires. Golly! When do I get it all cleaned??? Oh! D maid is on a holiday. Where did she say she was going? I think she said, Bali. Oh sorry it was Billai near Chickmagalur. She wanted my jeans. She was going on her honeymoon. I gave it to her. What are maids for nyways. I can borrow her saree maybe. They look nice and colourful. I have to go back to work tomorrow. Aaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrgggggggggggghhhhhhhhh. We have a report to complete. Aaaarrrgghhhh. And all d men at work are old. Yawn! Yawn! Oh damn! I broke the geyser plug last night. Cold shower it will b then. Is dat my stomach growling? Did I have my dinner yet? Breakfast aint enuf. Half a dozen rotten eggs in d coolmac. He's my fridge. Squishy bananas in d fruit basket. I heard dat. ........... I heard dat again. Isnt dat my fone?? Did I hear it squeak?? Its a vintage fone. Under d pillow. In my bag. In d toilet. On d couch. Yep. Found it. All d oldies want to go to d temple. Would I want to join? Hell no. Who is dat again? All d oldies from work want to visit d museum for d well preserved psychos of d world. Am I joining them? I think I might have typhoid. Could be useful if I wanted to bunk work tomorrow. Hunger is blinding me. Oh no. Its d glasses am wearing. It looks spotted. I wonder why. Does it look like a commode to d goddamn flies?? Is dat a crack on d glass? Who could be wearing my glasses when am not around? Have to ask d maid. Aha! My fone. It sounds better. Am I free for lunch? Am not free nytime of d day or night. But if its free food, am not doing nything in d morning, afternoon and night. Oh u wanna go dutch! Sorry am seeing an important person for lunch today. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. My corn flakes..... dont be empty.... cornflakes I love you more than nythin else on earth....u have always been there for me.....please flakes.......be there this time too. Yeah you r still here. Thanks. Sleep of heavens ....overcome me....make me forget d dirt of hell in my house...sleep of heavens. I guess cleaning it is today. Where do I start? I start by finding my maids sister. She would come and clean for my nice pair of still using slippers. Shower me sweet dear lord. Do I have to walk to d next street to fetch d maid? My freud is in d service center. I miss my freud. He has always served me well wit or witout fuel. Alas! He broke down from pressure to perform. I tried to make him feel gud. But he would not listen. He refused to start until he got professional help. I hope he is happy where ever he is. Eeeeeeeeeeeks. Are those my feet???? Or are they cancerous growths on a mildew?? Who cares. So the maid will come in d next 10 minutes. Oh no am in a hurry. So wat if it is a Sunday. I have so many appointments. But I dont like dirty houses! And yes I need to clean d house on a busy Sunday morning. Maids. Do they ever understand d importance of cleanliness! The goddamn fone keeps ringing. hmm its you. Gee, I would love a cup of coffee. Dats d only thing I dont get on this planet. Coffee day? Sure why not. We couldn possibly go to Tea Day for coffee can we? Or Ice cream day. Or gud dinner day. It has to b d ever brown Coffee day. Oh you want to discuss d upcoming project wit ur gud looks at dusk. I can concentrate alright. Yeah I can bring those documents. I can dress up in formals too if u wud like. And I can wear my badge too. Would u want d boss to come along? I can invite him. Why do I even bother wit morons like him! Lord, were u taking a shower when I prayed this morning? I asked u for a nice evening wit a nice guy. Oh next Sunday? Fine then. So shall I go shopping? I guess I could. And by d way, d food processor is not working. Do I leave dat at d service center or throw it out? I'll wait till next Sunday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12177624-112482797142052140?l=alltheworks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/feeds/112482797142052140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12177624&amp;postID=112482797142052140' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/112482797142052140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/112482797142052140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/2005/08/morning.html' title='a morning'/><author><name>acher-fude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16522976442854341170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12177624.post-112447062534716640</id><published>2005-08-19T09:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-23T12:55:38.776-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why wud I do dat!!</title><content type='html'>My friend and I had a bet. He said I am not capable of being overtly sensitive. I din take it up right away but I knew it was close to d truth. I have tried in d past to be extravagant wit emotions. Infact, the last time I tried to sound emotional was such a disaster. I like crying sometime. It makes me feel like I have made d greatest sacrifice ever. But why wud I want to exhibit extreme emotions! It aint like I have lost a body part and have to live wit it for d rest of my life. Maybe its a job dat I wanted or a job I cudn do. But dats alright. I am not d luckiest person on earth to have almost everything I wish for. But sometimes I wish I were d luckiest person. When d room I am sitting in seems like a fort dat has no exit or when all I can see is people who are just as depressed as I, I wish I cud stand out in d rain and close my eyes and feel all d pain go away. I had a friend called John back in school. He said dat when he dreamt about a sunrise early in d morning it was an intuition dat d day was going to b fine. He had his nightmares and he would not come to school dat day. He died in an accident 3 years back. I wonder wat he dreamt of dat day. I dont know if there are angels but sometimes when I need someone to take d depression away, I imagine him saying all those funny things to make me laugh. For a long time now, I have tried to realise wat makes me happy. People certainly dont. If anything they make me wonder if I could be an alien after all. Arent people supposed to b gay normally and feel pain if something terrible happens? I cant believe I think like an idiot most of the time. I dont have a sad life. But something is missing. Inner peace I guess. Though I dont really know wat it means. When I hear someone laugh, it makes me happy. It makes me smile. When I see a train it makes me sad. It reminds of the time I lost, the time that took away the love that I knew. But when I listen to Eminem it makes me happy cos someone sang him almost well. A loud laughter makes me happy. I wasnt so cold long back. And then I grew up and life wasnt so giving anymore. I am sure there are other people who feel the way I do. Am sure there are loads of them hoping for d ray of miracle that wud change their lives for d better. It need not b a better lifestyle necessarily, it cud b something dat lets us rest in peace at d end of a long day. Maybe d ability to sleep the moment we close our eyes witout having to think about all d things dat needs to b done d next day and d day after. D ability to eat d food on d plate becos its tasty and not cos we wud die witout eating. D strength to help mom clean d house though u r tired cos dats d time mom is going to let u know wat worries her d most. D strength to sit through d discussion u have wit dad though its about ur future dat seems blurry to him. D will to watch WWE wit ur brother when u know dat u don remember those wrestlers name nymore and ur brother thinks u r too old now. D will to say 'no' when ur girl friend/boy friend wants to leave u for gud no matter how saintly u r feeling at d moment. They dont sound difficult, they are not difficult to do either. I find it sad when my guy friends say dat the love of their life got married and they were not d groom. 9 out of 10 guys have d same sad story in their lives. And when they narrate it they make it sound like they are d most noble people on earth cos they din trouble d gal too much. And most of them were told by d gal itself dat she was gettin married. They have no proof. Forget d proof, din they feel like losers!! Din it occur to them dat she might not have taken them seriously at all?? And they have d same story to tell until they find a gal who is d real love of their lives until she leaves them. I know it sounds romantic to say 'Call me old fashioned , but I believe dat when u love someone u have to give them watever they need even if it is divorce' . But wudn u want to know why they want it if they were in love wit u? One of my friends said dat his girl friends' father had a heart attack and wanted his daughter to marry a guy of his choice cos he tot he wud die immediately! He is  still alive of course and wit no offence to fathers, I think my friend was trying to b d icon of sacrifice though he knows now dat he fell for d old, my- father- is- sick- and- I- am- my- fathers- favourite- daughter' trick. Again there are no love stories witout losers. So we will live wit dat I guess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12177624-112447062534716640?l=alltheworks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/feeds/112447062534716640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12177624&amp;postID=112447062534716640' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/112447062534716640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/112447062534716640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/2005/08/why-wud-i-do-dat.html' title='Why wud I do dat!!'/><author><name>acher-fude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16522976442854341170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12177624.post-112318507472370896</id><published>2005-08-04T12:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-19T09:40:10.690-07:00</updated><title type='text'>theory of distance relationship</title><content type='html'>The theory is painful. A relationship simply does not exist with distance. Its not so difficult to deal with. Cos after a while, you will just want to be out of it. And sources tell me that its more so with men. I find it funny that men need to see the face and the body when women live with hope. Atleast most of the time. I mean there are women who have no idea about how fat or how handsome their men are getting and yet lead a life. Its not like they dont care but they dont care about how they look. And no matter what they do they love to go back home to their men, not their neighbours' men. See, that's the theory. Men ruin relationships just by not wanting it anymore when they are away. But women can ruin a relationship by trying to keep it. Either ways the relationship is lost. And that's sad cos both of them would have wanted to keep it at some point during the hay days. There are a few friends who have been through this. But they came out unscathed. But not everybody is lucky. Some of them were at the brink of death when it happened. It does seem like a petty issue when compared to the vast number of things that happen around us. Sometimes you will have to live with it. Its a matter a of few nights sleep, a little loss of apetite, a loss of active thinking and a whole lot of tears.. But who would notice anyway? Unless you are a scientist and you have started creating a monster in a lost mind, alls fine. The last time that happened to a scientist he went to jail for cloning his assistant instead of the rabbit. That's not funny. This assistant's boyfriend did not want her anymore cos he thought the clone looked better. And the rabbit's boyfriend ditched her cos he thought that if the scientist din think that she was not gud enuf to be cloned then he doesn need her. But really, can you imagine how it would feel if you built your dreams on someone and they decided to break it? Its difficult to imagine I guess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12177624-112318507472370896?l=alltheworks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/feeds/112318507472370896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12177624&amp;postID=112318507472370896' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/112318507472370896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/112318507472370896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/2005/08/theory-of-distance-relationship.html' title='theory of distance relationship'/><author><name>acher-fude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16522976442854341170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12177624.post-112197283802346480</id><published>2005-07-21T11:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-21T12:25:35.286-07:00</updated><title type='text'>know the feeling?</title><content type='html'>I really dont know d feeling. When you know that you want something really bad and dont really know why, that's d feelin I get. Its so irritatin and wont get off my mind. I guess I find it hard to trust the person. But I dont understand why I am being so emotional suddenly. I am being extremely unfriendly. Maybe its d fear dat we might not be able to live our lives together. But dat has not bothered me in d past. I feel good and bad at d same time. I feel good cos I know how much I can love someone. And bad becos d person had changd so much. I know its cos of me. And dats all d more frustratin. I am afraid dat he might start seeing someone else. Or worst still, start dislikin me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12177624-112197283802346480?l=alltheworks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/feeds/112197283802346480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12177624&amp;postID=112197283802346480' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/112197283802346480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/112197283802346480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/2005/07/know-feeling.html' title='know the feeling?'/><author><name>acher-fude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16522976442854341170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12177624.post-111834601949319324</id><published>2005-06-09T12:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-13T11:55:16.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'>e-mail from my beloved.</title><content type='html'>i was havin the usual EOD meeting when you had called. I don't find no reason toavenge you. things that I feel, my thoughts and my thought process are waybeyond your understanding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and yes, i'm way too busy with work these days and no time for social life.whether i like it or not i'm gonna have to live with it for some time atleast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well as for good times and bad times, i dint need nobody in the past and wouldntneed anybody in the future. i guess dont think i need consultation about when,how and with whom i can build a home with. besides that, i do care for ramona,thats nobodys business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there was never an opportunity for me to introduce you to my folks as I was inChennai. I made an effort to meet your folks by coming to cbe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and yes I dont feel like saying 'get lost bitch' and wouldnt say so. I mean it.I've cursed you enough one time. I still regret it. I still feel embarassed.(i'm not trying to look good here)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;its not like i hate you and you aint bad. just don't feel the majic&lt;/span&gt;. don't knowwhats right &amp;amp; what wrong. not your fault. completely mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i aint worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thanks,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My once beloved did not put his name of course. But this e-mail did it all. Last night, I did most of the talking and the crying but I survived. And that line in red.. that hurt like crazy.&lt;br /&gt;But somehow it all makes sense. When I was sane he loved me. Now that I do not seem sane to myself in any way, I would not expect him to love me as much. But I dont know if I would ever be able to come to terms with that. I feel so lost all of a sudden.&lt;br /&gt;Another one of those first times I guess. But I did learn something. It feels nice to cry. Certainly not nice to embarass someone. Sometimes things do not seem real when they happen. But alas! we have to learn to live with it. One day my grandpa told me that it does not matter if you tarnish your reputation, but you have to know to live with that gracefully without making it seem like a sin. Otherwise you might never do anything to change what people think of you. I do not really know how this relates to what I wanted to convey, but it rings in my head. Relationships do not really last with distance. We only live thinking it might work one day or the other. As long as you chose to remain silent about the distance it might work when you meet again. I know all those people who have made it work. But they did not really stay apart and met too often. They are smart people who know to manage their relationships. Be it any relationship, it wont be too long before it falls apart if you do not see the person for too long. It could happen with parents let alone your love. And it does not help if you scream out loud. What's worse than not being able to be with that someone you cannot live without? Finding out that you are actually George Bush's daughter through his foreign affairs I guess. Or maybe finding out that you would die in the next 5 minutes. I wake up every morning and hope to be Uma Thurman by magic. What I really hope for is to be with that him. See, it does not matter if you want to be someone else to be with that one person in your life. It matters if that person also wants to be someone else for someone else. Errr.. It should make sense. I do not remember the last day I woke up happy. Sigh!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12177624-111834601949319324?l=alltheworks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/feeds/111834601949319324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12177624&amp;postID=111834601949319324' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/111834601949319324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/111834601949319324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/2005/06/e-mail-from-my-beloved.html' title='e-mail from my beloved.'/><author><name>acher-fude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16522976442854341170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12177624.post-111531533422806975</id><published>2005-05-05T10:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-21T14:07:22.370-08:00</updated><title type='text'>disastrous</title><content type='html'>Egad! My life is as disastrous as the sandstorm in Iraq. I cant talk without confessing something  about myself. I cant stop complaining. I am just so awful. I lose cell phones, cameras, notebooks, spectacles, even clothes.. But how do I lose people? I cant stop thinking that I probably am a loser. All the time I mess up. If danger happens to say "Hi" I run away. I dont even know if I am good enough to face it. Somedays I dig deeper into the rug hoping I could disappear. I live such a lonely life. No one to look up to, no one to look down upon. Earlier, I look at a gas tank and am hoping that it would topple and create a disaster. Now, I look at the gas tank and scare myself to death. I act like a freak. I am scared that I have become one already. Yeah right! Dont believe me. I so love being the weirdo that I am. Infact people who talk to me everyday dont know what to expect and what not to. I love it when people hate me. It really doesnt matter anymore cos no one ever does anything for the heck of it anymore. Half of the population dont know where the rest of the population came from. Is it possible to be an alien and not realise it? What am I saying? I am a nice person by birth or so I would like to believe. There should be a marathon for 'running a marathon for a cause is absolutely normal'. I certainly would not run it. I have never run a marathon before. That makes me think. Am I indifferent to my fellow human beings? Am I too indifferent to their causes? But there are no marathons run where I live. But honestly, I cant run. I am too lazy. Why am I talking about marathons anyway? I am not a romantic person. I would love to write something romantic though. But it really is important to be romantic I guess. My relationships have never worked. Not like I had too many. But I tried to make the one work and I failed. I tried again and I failed. What can a human being do besides thinking about it and wishing that they had done better? Sometimes I get so irritated with myself. But most of the times I just laugh. Always been clumsy and always will. And I find people extremely irritating. I know I am not very people friendly. Everything feels like a daze sometime. Like I was in the middle of this big puzzle garden and the exit is infested with worms that crawl all over you. You know the way out. But its a nightmare. And the entrance is a big black hole of nothingness. I have hence stopped analysing and started hating. It really helps me sometime because people dont call me and chat anymore. Nobody calls me their friend anymore. I dont receive junk mails anymore. What more could I ask for! Now, just because I say all this does not mean that I have nothing to worry about. What I started off hoping that I would not have too many things to worry about has only added to my ill being. Everybody else is worried about me which is pissing off. They are always talking about me. At a get together, at the club, at the pool, at the game... its really really irritating. I am not a rebel. I am not an animal. I am most certainly not wild. I only want to be left alone. But that becomes very difficult for people to understand I guess. So people keep trying to reform me. Really, what about me would they want to reform. These days all I do is sit back and watch. Its amazing to watch some people who try to understand me. Good move I would say. But am not the right person. These people keep talking, ask too many questions and in the end dont know what to think of me. Some people think they know it all. They really piss me off. I forget these people until they talk to me again. Maybe one day I would be found dead before time. But I am hoping that I could be a little more human so my parents dont cry alone.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12177624-111531533422806975?l=alltheworks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/feeds/111531533422806975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12177624&amp;postID=111531533422806975' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/111531533422806975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12177624/posts/default/111531533422806975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://alltheworks.blogspot.com/2005/05/disastrous.html' title='disastrous'/><author><name>acher-fude</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16522976442854341170</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
