<?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-6801077645017373985</id><updated>2012-02-17T00:29:19.584+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Aphorisms</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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>52</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801077645017373985.post-4602737667953956235</id><published>2011-12-16T23:22:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2011-12-16T23:53:50.817+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Of Life, Love &amp; Complexities...</title><content type='html'>I am amazed at how mechanical my life is. It’s such an everyday routine to get up early in the morning, to get dressed to go to work and the usual tumult of daily happenings called life. Looking at it all, from a not so usual bourgeoisie angle, one would almost certainly relate it to a sardonic joke that invites rather repugnance and pity than any amount of laughter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s rather strange how mornings becoming evenings and evenings night, days become weeks and weeks months and before one realizes it’s almost a full year of numbness, that persists from the mornings to the very end of the deplorable months. Honestly I do not bother to muse about the daily pursuits of life and the merits and demerits of it from one end to another. What I do think about is that infinitesimally small ray of hope early morning, which transforms into a weak flame by afternoon and ends up leaving a deep sense unfulfilled longing by nightfall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fire and hope that was ignited by the touch of her soft pale skin, like a dark sky on a stormy night. That same fire still lingering inside, like a never-ending thirst. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s like a heart wrenching sorrow that makes me ache for her every single moment I pause in my bourgeoisie life. I try to keep busy and to not think about her. To obliterate and block her out from every single memory... But she keeps coming back to me like a soft music breaking the otherwise calm night. I wonder why the otherwise comforting warmth of bodies had never been the same as with her. Why the touch and the smell of hair have never been more than a soft sweet smell of some expensive and ornate perfume. Why the light in the eyes have never been more than just a twinkle, and the touch of the hands never more than just a squall on an otherwise parched land. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Huh, I keep wondering why waking up is so complex, when sleeping is so very simple....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-4602737667953956235?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/4602737667953956235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=4602737667953956235' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/4602737667953956235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/4602737667953956235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2011/12/of-life-love-complexities.html' title='Of Life, Love &amp; Complexities...'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-7897895708569184682</id><published>2011-07-14T16:01:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-07-14T16:04:17.639+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Raindrops</title><content type='html'>I woke up this morning to see the raindrops falling on my windowpane....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up one morning to see her standing at the window and looking outside. I put my hand at the small of her back and asked her what she was looking at outside. She said, “I am looking at the little beads of raindrop falling on the smoky windowpane.” She said, “I am looking at the little lime green leaves dancing in the rain.”  She then said, “Look how these leaves look all so green, washed and new as if they were once again born to be freshly seen.” She pointed at the small yellow flowers growing in the grass and said, “How lovely these flowers look, blossoming in the rain.”&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;She took her hair in her hands and moved it from the back to one side of her neck. I kissed the side of her neck and held her gently into my arms. She slid her soft warm hands into mine and gazed with her misty dark brown eyes into mine. She said, “I am looking at the raindrops outside.” And it was then that i knew the magic in the rain. We stood looking out at the raindrops falling on our windowpane. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up this morning to see the raindrops falling on my windowpane. I looked outside to see the once existing happiness, now all washed away in the rain...   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And another knows nought of its chilling fall &lt;br /&gt;Upon him aat all, &lt;br /&gt;On whom the rain comes down.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-An Autumn Rain-Scene by Thomas Hardy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-7897895708569184682?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/7897895708569184682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=7897895708569184682' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/7897895708569184682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/7897895708569184682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2011/07/raindrops.html' title='Raindrops'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-5297129608356270703</id><published>2011-01-17T12:07:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-01-17T12:09:51.115+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The morning thereafter…</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Round the cape of a sudden came the sea,&lt;br /&gt;And the sun looked over the mountain's rim:&lt;br /&gt;And straight was a path of gold for him,&lt;br /&gt;And the need of a world of men for me.&lt;br /&gt;[-Parting At Morning by Robert Browning]&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do not we all wish that life also had those typical happy endings, just as they do in stories and poems? But as much as my heart desires to believe in the so called folklore, there’s no denying that life lives short of these happy endings at most instances. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We often, at night, look up into the beauty of the sky, and chancing upon a shooting star, close our eyes to pray for that little something which would spread happiness: Happiness which brings forth the warmth of love over our senses, making that very moment special. And even though that happiness might turn out to be momentary, we feel it to be worthwhile. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That one moment of happiness, we feel, makes up for the long and lonely void of silence left after a ravaging storm in the wet August sky. And that the soft sound of the raindrops, resonating in our senses while they last, make up for the morbid destruction and the havoc created thereafter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in our minds we go about the same thing, repeating day and night, to stay away from the destruction caused by Cleopatra. The same veiled beauty that charms its way to the destruction of the high and mighty. And yet we fall when the time comes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thence comes the tears of sorrow and of disappointment. The incessantly flowing tears which come down from the heavens above, everlasting with the dark gloomy skies hovering in the horizon and threatening to throw our life out of gear, for a long long time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally one day, as a sweet drizzle takes away a gusty spring wind and the sky looks clear blue under the bright and the shimmering sun, the smile comes back to the face. The smile which breaks out like the light green leaves on a fine spring morning after a pale, dark and cold winter: the same smile that once again brings back joy on to the pallid careworn face. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then again I try and recall why I didn’t stop myself from crying then. I suppose I didn’t, as all tears are not evil. I suppose I didn’t as I once again hopelessly believed that some stories perhaps do have a happy ending…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-5297129608356270703?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/5297129608356270703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=5297129608356270703' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/5297129608356270703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/5297129608356270703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2011/01/morning-thereafter.html' title='The morning thereafter…'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-536867903322531443</id><published>2011-01-08T14:54:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2011-01-08T15:03:09.528+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Longing Inside</title><content type='html'>And so the year 2010 ended. And it did indeed end with a concoction of weddings, celebrations, good fortune (for one and many), parties, cheer, glee, smiles and a bucketful of happiness for not only just me but also a lot of other people. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Considering how terrible 2009 had been for me, i remember to have had taken a vow of turning a new leaf, at the end of that particular year. And with it i had thus turned the corner into 2010 with lots of expectations from self. Which, to be honest, has been realised to quite some extent, if not all. I had been happy, cheery and less of a cynic in the past year, as compared to the one before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesteryear, for me, closed on a fairly good note but then again i feel that it somehow somewhere left me unfulfilled. I say so because i remember the instance of standing outside in the dead of the night, away from the crowd; looking up at the darkness of the sky. It was then that i saw a shooting star and out of a sudden impulse closed my eyes to wish for something. Something like a bit of warmth in the cold of the night: the warmth of the heart which brings forth the glee from inside on to the face. The warmth of happiness and indulgence, of satiation and surfeit, the warmth of the heart that brings a smile on that beautiful face.....    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....I found the warmth, like how Browning says in Meeting at Night....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The grey sea and the long black land;&lt;br /&gt;And the yellow half-moon large and low;&lt;br /&gt;And the startled little waves that leap&lt;br /&gt;In fiery ringlets from their sleep,&lt;br /&gt;As I gain the cove with pushing prow,&lt;br /&gt;And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;&lt;br /&gt;Three fields to cross till a farm appears;&lt;br /&gt;A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch&lt;br /&gt;And blue spurt of a lighted match,&lt;br /&gt;And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears,&lt;br /&gt;Than the two hearts beating each to each!&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;….But with a longing left inside!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-536867903322531443?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/536867903322531443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=536867903322531443' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/536867903322531443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/536867903322531443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2011/01/longing-inside.html' title='The Longing Inside'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-2073521941922433177</id><published>2010-06-13T15:47:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-13T15:50:58.146+05:30</updated><title type='text'>When it rains....</title><content type='html'>I just love to sit at my window and look outside when it rains. Somehow it reminds of a person that I had walked in the rains with. I am someone who hates to get wet and have been pretty clear about it from the very beginning. But then again there are some people who just hold your hand and drag you out with them when it rains and all that you do then is simply look at the happiness in their eyes and can’t help but get lost in it. It’s simply a walk to remember! People part from each other, times change and we get lost into our separate lives but there are certain memories which are vividly fixed somewhere at the back of our mind. At the sudden stroke of the clock and with some events it all seems to come back again like a flash and you feel as if you are going to relive the same moment, probably not in reality but only in your imagination.... And believe me when I say it’s beautiful; that you can’t help but smile, even when you relive it once again in your imagination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all have heard of certain times, when with someone, the time around us suddenly stops and we get so helplessly lost in our situation that nothing around us matters. Looking out my window at the falling raindrops, I feel as if I’m once again holding her hand walking down the promenade in oblivion of everything around me. Is it the fresh green colour of the trees with dirt washed away that makes them suddenly look so bright and beautiful or the twinkle in her eyes that makes me wonder at their sudden beauty? Has the fading light ever been so beautiful before? Has the crash of waves on the rocks ever been like sweet music before? I just fail to determine if it’s the raindrops or the touch of her hands which recreate the entire magic in a different way altogether. Or probably it’s both being there at that particular point in time which made it so special for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s been a few years to this but, when it rains and when I happen to sit looking at it outside, I just can’t help but think of it and I just can’t help but smile once again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-2073521941922433177?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/2073521941922433177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=2073521941922433177' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2073521941922433177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2073521941922433177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2010/06/when-it-rains.html' title='When it rains....'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-424670931183823788</id><published>2010-06-06T15:15:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-06T15:19:16.471+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Games we play</title><content type='html'>For an avid reader, there is something preternatural about reading an intriguing book at a nice quiet coffee shop. Amongst several such cafes there is this particular one in the city which makes the whole experience worthwhile. The best thing about this particular coffee shop is its location and being located next to the sea front, the evenings there are simply magnificent. The combination of a good book with a pot of freshly brewed coffee, at a place directly overlooking the sea on a bright crisp summer evening, with the sun setting in the backdrop on a fading crimson sky and a cool breeze stroking your face simply perks up the soul and leaves one high-spirited. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The incident that I wish to allude to happened on one of the evenings at the above mentioned place. I was sitting at that very wonderful cafe reading an interesting book. Now usually when I read a nice book I tend to get quite lost in it; and what with a beautiful backdrop and favourable conditions one can’t help but lose track of one’s surroundings. So, lost in wonder I was all of a sudden awakened by the soft rustle of a dress nearby and a whiff of perfume. Looking up I saw a lady pass by, who, taking up a table diagonally opposite me sat by herself without any company. Some faces, though not necessarily beautiful, have something seemingly interesting about them. When one looks at a face like that one simply keeps coming back to it after every short interval.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I therefore kept looking back and forth from my book to that face which somehow seemed to draw my attention without much apparent reason. Funny thing is that even she kept looking at me every now and then- Stealing a glance here and a glance there. We probably had some sort of connect which kept drawing both of us towards each other. There was this strong longing in me which was urging me to walk up to her and ask her name and to talk to her. The fact that even she kept coming back to me with her looks every now and then made it quite apparent about the way she felt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite the strong urge to communicate with her i gave it a pass because i knew for a fact that somehow even if most of us feel that strong connect with someone we still hesitate in communicating, taking our urge to be a passing thing. This certainly isn’t my belief but many times I’ve seen the other person to think on those lines and have always realised that though one feels the connect one is hesitant when it comes to communicating- Some societal or even a personal barrier stopping us from doing what we would really want to do otherwise. Probably it’s our attitude to mark everything that we do as right or wrong which makes us demarcate our actions in one of those categories and thus refrains us from taking even a small step forward. Whatever the reason might be but I on the other hand have always felt that one should take ones chances and fail rather than regretting not doing what one wanted to do. Because otherwise, one simply sits and thinks that why the hell did they not take that leap off the cliff when they should have. And that probably they would drop to the ground like a rock but that is exactly what they wanted to do.... Or who knows as that is exactly when they get the wings to fly away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-424670931183823788?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/424670931183823788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=424670931183823788' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/424670931183823788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/424670931183823788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2010/06/games-we-play.html' title='Games we play'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-2083524973351565419</id><published>2010-03-09T23:17:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-03-09T23:21:47.443+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Life of a bourgeois</title><content type='html'>At times I become so weary of a certain situation that irrespective of the outcome I just seem to lose interest in the entire episode. Many a time, in such situations, I’ve felt a voice inside urge me to park on one of the busy corners of the street of life and to get-off, turning my back to everything. Light that one gratifying cigarette, which a person trying to rehabilitate by quitting smoking might light after a period of abstinence, and thus find spellbound by it…. And walk away from everyone and everything. Now that might sound strange but that is exactly why it’s a part of life! So my friends, life is a journey which tosses strange and uncanny situations at us at quite some uneven pace. It is like a jukebox with multiple buttons; and as hard as we might try to push the button that we had always wanted to push, we still might end up listening to some weird music that we disrelish. The funniest part is that in real life too we have to (dis)relish the sojourn at our very own expense, as with the good-old jukebox. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In every real life situation- with the good and the bad part of it- the part which comes after the beautiful vignette, is the part which leads us to the above mentioned situation. Now being human, I can’t but help think like one and since I can’t help but think like one therefore I can’t help but feel the same way, when confronted with a testing scenario. My mind, quite obviously, being made to confront the arduous orientation gives me two scenarios. The first being the tough one, which is standing up to the task at hand howsoever formidable it might seem and the second being easy, which needless to say is the one we had so far been talking about. Candidly speaking, there have also been times when I have taken the latter, mostly out of sheer desperation and timidity. But, to not astray and to say what I actually wanted to say, I shall not digress to the ratio of me being a wuss vis-à-vis not being one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the standup being done and with the severity of the situation lashed upon, somewhere in between a point is reached when one gets this strong urge to quit the entire episode and to resign to the probable unpleasantness thus arising from the renunciation. This point or this so called urge that we talk about, is fairly strong. Its strength is derived from a fair bit of disappointment, in the aftermath of lackluster, insipid and uncongenial corollaries. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this very point I have always come across something which I consider as the balance of nature. I say so because whenever I am in one of these moods, looking around I have happened to chance upon a shabbily dressed old man. A person with dissipated youth; moving about with a pushcart, carrying knick-knacks which probably are his ticket to the days meal. This sight has never once failed to make me wonder about a time in his life, when he would wake up to a days sickness, helplessly thinking what to do about the meal which he might not be able to earn as a result of his malady. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Irrespective of all said and done, I, then hardly fail to see my situation as far better than that of the poor old man…. And that our life is still a cakewalk in comparison with that of a bourgeois.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-2083524973351565419?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/2083524973351565419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=2083524973351565419' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2083524973351565419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2083524973351565419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2010/03/life-of-bourgeois.html' title='Life of a bourgeois'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-1641845470257097625</id><published>2010-02-14T23:27:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-02-15T01:16:35.295+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A lot like Love</title><content type='html'>Today, is what they call the Valentine’s Day.  Theoretically speaking, the origin of Valentine’s Day with that of love itself is somewhat obscure. Going by the theory of it we would perhaps end up with a long list of stories. Here’s one- Legend has it that a third-century priest named Valentine persisted in performing marriage ceremonies despite a ban by the Roman emperor, Claudius II.  Claudius was persuaded, that single men made better soldiers for his army and ergo the ban. Thrown into jail, Valentine formed a relationship with his jailor's daughter (some say he cured her blindness) and signed his last message to her "From your Valentine." St. Valentine was executed on February 14, circa the year 270 and thus the connotation, with the date in question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today on the 14th day of February, 2010 I am sitting at one of the busiest airports in the country, about to travel from one of the busiest cities to another one, of similar kind. And looking around I happened to see the re-run of a movie called ‘A Lot Like Love’ on one of the movie channels. Strangely, the title struck a chord in my head and made me muse about love, life and relationships. Now here’s a quote from the bible which might act as food for thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Love is patient, love is kind.&lt;br /&gt;It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.&lt;br /&gt;It is not rude, it is not self-seeking.&lt;br /&gt;It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.&lt;br /&gt;Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.&lt;br /&gt;It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.&lt;br /&gt;Love never fails.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I Corinthians 13:4-8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I live in one of the busiest cities in the country and the truth is that when I look around I see a lot of people these days in and out of love both juxtaposed, metaphorically. Worst of all, there are some ones amongst us who haven’t even been in love for a while now. We come across people day in day out talking about marriage with respect to financial viability, social stability and a hell of a lot other things besides love. I once remember meeting someone who actually said that she can’t really marry for love as she essentially has to have other more important things in better proportion: like money, stability and god alone knows what all. I, for one, have practically forgotten what it is like to be in love. Considering the sojourn’s been away from me, for a while now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fact is that we see a lot of people vouching for fancy-free these days than for loving someone. Every passing day more and more of us now say that being single is so much more better and hassle free, and that the perks of being with a partner are really not worth the troubles attached with it. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;So is it actually true that being single, now, is better than being with someone? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t really know if that’s the truth of today’s world; but I think I do know another truth that despite all this, we the single ones, still go to bed each and every day hoping- some subconsciously and some consciously- to wake up the next morning only to see a new day…. And that perhaps this would be the day when we would meet someone who would sweep us across our feet with their simple smile and their majestic charm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one here, is for all the single ones out there…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;After all these years, I see that I was mistaken about Eve in the beginning; it is better to live outside the Garden with her than inside it without her.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;-Mark Twain, Extracts from Adam's Diary&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-1641845470257097625?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/1641845470257097625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=1641845470257097625' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/1641845470257097625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/1641845470257097625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2010/02/lot-like-love.html' title='A lot like Love'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-6464004168530796715</id><published>2010-01-04T15:26:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-01-04T15:31:26.953+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The New Year: 2010</title><content type='html'>The traverse from the antecedent year to the current one, I must say, happened on an extremely merry note: marked by transcendental debauchery and absolute dissipation. The merry making continued till the wee hours of the morning and the retirement coming in at aurora, pretty much sums up the revelry we indulged in. Also the fact that a dear friend besotted and incoherent with the &lt;em&gt;‘licor o bebida alcohólica de alta graduación’&lt;/em&gt; or rather simply put the hard liquor, waking up the next morning wrapped around a coyote ugly, recoiled in such horror that it took almost the entire next day for us to stop laughing and to move the conversation over to some other direction. So, all in all we had a fairly successful binge followed by a nice and pleasant, but at the same time an unceremonious day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Digressing from the consummation and moving on to the start of the previous year I certainly feel, in retrospect and vestige of things, that I had a bummer of a year. In fact to put it all in a nutshell I’d like to quote a phrase from the Bible [Isaiah 14:12] &lt;em&gt;“How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! How art thou cut down to the ground!”&lt;/em&gt; And that’s exactly what happened to me! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things last year so unfolded that at a point in time I felt as if I had been yanked down from my upwardly flight and put to the ground. I had entered this city around a couple of years back with a momentously grave situation in hand, which last year became even graver. I felt that I was certainly tested to the utmost level and had to use my entire energy to not lose my focus, which as a matter of fact left me listlessly sapped and completely debilitated towards the end. Rising from the ashes of an already testing scenario I, almost towards the end of the year, fortunately or not so fortunately got into another  which in no way was less than the previous, if not more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things- though not completely over- seem to have simmered down a fair bit now but the acrid taste from the bitter experiences still remains. I hope the coming year with its good start will unfold a much better experience for me as well as all my compatriots and I hope that it will certainly be a new beginning towards life and love as well as friendship and happiness, for one and all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-6464004168530796715?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/6464004168530796715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=6464004168530796715' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/6464004168530796715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/6464004168530796715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2010/01/new-year-2010.html' title='The New Year: 2010'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-1258522159830535239</id><published>2009-12-06T18:49:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-06T18:53:37.998+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Of world and worldly affairs</title><content type='html'>A close friend of mine died some time ago of cancer. The night I heard the news of his death I thought about a lot of things and about all those times that we spent together. It was as if all of it kept flashing in front of my eyes, especially the part when he told me about this girl that he had met nearly a year back and about his aspirations to tie the knot of maternal bliss with her and furthermore about his flourishing career. He envisaged the happiness to come in his life in near future and painted a beautiful picture of life, love, health and happiness. It was like a canvass full of bright and exuberant colours that takes a serene and a tranquil mind to create; a portrait portraying a perfect life set in a perfect background. Except that the shades used eventually turned out to be darker, than what the artist actually wanted to portray. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the span of an years time his entire aspirations turned to dust with nothing remaining, apart from mere memories and a sense of loss. When I met him a year ago, he seemed to me like a man of purpose working towards a lot of fine things in life. Things like a budding career, a sound financial situation and a respectable social status. I met him again a few months back when he was undergoing treatment for his ailments and he yet again came across as a man of purpose. The purpose though this time seemed to be entirely different as compared to the previous occasion. This time round the purpose was to just try and live some more beyond the minimal window that one has in grave medical conditions like these. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It thus occurred to me how ones priorities and outlook towards life changes when one is about to traverse from the final destination towards the dissolution. The fact that we waste our time and our lives over things that are simply incandescent is something which is worth observing. Why is it that most of us realize the importance of our short-lived life mostly at the end of it or otherwise at the precipice. What thus results is just a sense of deep loss and longing to perhaps take another shot at what that is already lost.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never feared living like a common man but have always feared dying like one. So what is it that I want to see as a remnant and a vestige of my life, at the end of it all?.... It should be like perched on top of a mountain, looking at the crimson sun setting on the western horizon- The end to a beautiful and bright day full of essentials like a green earth, a whispering evening-wind with music in the trees and the song of the birds. So that the last thing that I say before I die would be “I’m looking at an incredible view right now”.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-1258522159830535239?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/1258522159830535239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=1258522159830535239' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/1258522159830535239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/1258522159830535239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2009/12/of-world-and-worldly-affairs.html' title='Of world and worldly affairs'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-2972611863792143457</id><published>2009-11-19T17:37:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-01-25T16:18:56.285+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Worth of a Relationship</title><content type='html'>A friend of mine, after loosing someone close to her, had questioned whether the love in a relationship is worth all the tears, the loss and the heartbreak at the end of it. I say end because it’s only logical to speak about it as everything that has a beginning has an end. She had very rightly stated that no relationship ends in a nice way. Some end up in a relatively better way while others don’t- And isn’t that true. So is it worth bothering with personal relationships.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, I have fought all my life to tow the line of yes in this case. But after all these years and scores of unsuccessful relationships I happen to be wondering right now the worth of all of them. Your family, your friends and even your loved ones have all left you one day to either move ahead or move away from this world. The fact is that it is distressing when it happens. We get shattered and it takes days and days of recuperating to get your life back on track. Life then starts again in a dilatory way. We take one hesitant step at a time and finally get over our grief to ultimately get into another relationship. After a while another end, and there you start all over again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend had said that these losses make us a stronger person but that it could also work the other way round and leave you bitter in the end. It sure seems to be working for me. I have really started wondering about the cause I have so feverishly fought for, all these years. In the end it still breaks, all these relationships, because no matter what you do it is never enough for people. I really don’t see any point in this anymore. All these years and the resultant experiences have just left me with a bitter feeling, wanting for none of this no more. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try and stay away for the most part; but every once in a while you come across someone who feels different. You feel that perhaps if you put in a little more effort and if you did things in the right way the end might be different this time round. But then again the rights and the wrongs are extremely subjective. You think that if you could perhaps show a lot of understanding then maybe things might be different now. But then it’s not really necessary for the other person to be as understanding as you are. You think that you might want to put in some more of patience, as a key, to make this one work. But alas you finally run out on that too as the person might display none.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So really what’s the point in moving around in circles. These relationships are really not worth bothering for. They give you pain galore for a moment of happiness. They give you incessant tears for a flash of smile. They leave you hurt, broken, burnt and spent in the end. You then gather all your strength to rise from your ashes only to be burnt down again. I reckon I’m just sick and tired of this nonsense in my life and I’d rather say “Fuck you” to all of them and simply steer clear off, of all of them, henceforth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-2972611863792143457?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/2972611863792143457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=2972611863792143457' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2972611863792143457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2972611863792143457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2009/11/worth-of-relationship.html' title='Worth of a Relationship'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-5557325665332594148</id><published>2009-10-02T14:37:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-05T01:40:18.156+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The road less travelled</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you."&lt;br /&gt;[Ezekiel 25:17]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neither am I an atheist nor an agnostic or even deeply religious for that matter. I am just an average guy who has been brought up with a certain sense of discipline, imbibed into my system. I don’t like being suppressed or suppressing anyone, for any reason whatsoever. I am not virtuous, pious, saintly or anything close to that. I have my vices and all I can say is that I try to keep a check on to them. I try and not harm people as much as I can, so that at the end of the day I can stand in front of the mirror and look into my eyes. As I do believe that one can run away from everyone and everything but one can’t runway from oneself. Simply put, I try and maintain a certain standard whereby I can face myself and be able to answer back to my conscience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And given the way I am I can’t tell you how difficult it is for me to reach a point where I have to choose between what is right and what is easy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On one end, the mind keeps telling me to take the easy path- Besides the fact that that is what most of us do, it also, quite obviously, is an easy way out. But on the other end my heart doesn’t allow me to abandon what’s true.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, what a dilemma! I always stand at the crossroad thinking what I should do. I so desperately feel I should take the easy way, for once. As its just about continuing your journey and knowing how way leads to another way, it would perhaps just be a matter of time before I would be able to put everything behind. I would perhaps forget everything and lead a brand new life. So what if that life is built on sacrificial offerings consisting of mine as well as others feelings? Big deal if I turned my back away from things when I should’ve stuck around. Who doesn’t do it? People anyway live on short-term memory. Don’t we like to forget our mistakes and our past? Don’t we prefer dwelling on just good times, even if it comes at a cost of others disappointment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah! Let me do it just this one time. Let me just walk away from everything and turn my back to the people who now need me more than I need them. Let me just look at my happiness. Let me be selfish, weak and ignorant, just this one time. Let me...  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I shall be telling this with a sigh&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere ages and ages hence:&lt;br /&gt;two roads diverged in a wood, and I -- &lt;br /&gt;I took the one less traveled by,&lt;br /&gt;And that has made all the difference.&lt;br /&gt;-Robert Frost&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps that will make all the difference some day...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-5557325665332594148?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/5557325665332594148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=5557325665332594148' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/5557325665332594148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/5557325665332594148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2009/10/road-less-travelled.html' title='The road less travelled'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-5513531834041934477</id><published>2009-08-24T12:48:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-24T12:53:52.775+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Being Happy</title><content type='html'>&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; 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	mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoChpDefault 	{mso-style-type:export-only; 	mso-default-props:yes; 	mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; 	mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoPapDefault 	{mso-style-type:export-only; 	margin-bottom:10.0pt; 	line-height:115%;} @page Section1 	{size:8.5in 11.0in; 	margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-priority:99; 	mso-style-qformat:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin-top:0in; 	mso-para-margin-right:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; 	mso-para-margin-left:0in; 	line-height:115%; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:11.0pt; 	font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; 	mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; font-style: italic;"&gt;"Men fall in love with Gilda, but they wake up with me."&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Rita Hayworth&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;[Rita Hayworth, an American film actress and the sex symbol of the 1940’s, shot to fame with her movie Gilda. Rita, an otherwise shy person and an antithesis to her roles, especially her most popular role of Gilda, had confessed the above.]&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;That’s the thing about happiness, isn’t it? We go to bed with Gilda and wake up with someone else. I mean you really think that the things, big and small, that you are doing are what makes you happy and perhaps are right for you. But at the end of it all it doesn’t eventually turn out like that. And you end up shouting like Meatloaf saying, “Life is a lemon and I want my money back.” Except that you don’t really get your money back- The shows over and you like it or not you got to scamper. You can keep shouting that and vowing that you are not going to make the same mistake again but believe me it’s a vicious circle. As they say history repeats itself…&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Let me tell you something incredibly funny. When we were kids we used to, thorough our dreamy little eyes, see life as an off-the-shelf package of something gleamy and attractive, the aftereffects of which would perhaps coruscate throughout the life. All you gotta do is pick that package up and your life is gonna be pretty much settled.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I sit, and I see, and I laugh my guts out when I realize that the package, as attractive and as promising, is still there to be picked up. But, it isn’t as easy as I had envisioned it to be; with my dreamy little eyes. Am I being sarcastic and depressing at the same time?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;You bet, I’m being god damn sarcastic right now and ill also tell you why. There is this game that the grown-ups play. It’s a fairly easy (if only you can make believe it to be easy) game and it has just one simple rule. You have to stick by the saying “Ignorance is Bliss”. No wait, ignorance actually means not knowing so you have to change that a little and say that you simple have to ignore a lot of things in life. Take no moral responsibility, you know, of things and people around you and be completely ostentatious. You do that and you’re gonna be totally hassle free. You will be happy or at least you will appear happier from outside.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;The only screw-up being there with the game is that some people just can’t come to pretend. Having tried a lot, I finally have given up on it. There are these few things in life that always disturb that balance every now and then. So sarcastic I am, but not at all depressed. I might not accept that I am one of those kinds who would want to take the responsibility and owe up to things and I might want to live in denial when it comes to accepting I being that kind. But I am not deterred. I am not going to quit and I am going to find my path. I know that I am going have the last laugh and that is all that matters in the end. I am not pretending. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-5513531834041934477?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/5513531834041934477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=5513531834041934477' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/5513531834041934477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/5513531834041934477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2009/08/being-happy.html' title='Being Happy'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-8950254557835289803</id><published>2009-05-20T22:21:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-21T14:09:51.883+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The good and the bad ones</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;It hits you like a cold chilly morning squall on a misty pale winter morning. Its like after being snuggled under the covers for a long time, you decide to step out for whatever reasons and you are hit by the bitter reality of something true and something so horrible that it changes the course of your life. Except that squalls are mostly ephemeral but the bitter truth sticks with you like a skin.&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;You know, the world has always been compartmentalized into the good and the bad. There are good things and bad things, good deeds and bad deeds, good words and bad words- everything has been segregated and has been put into these two sections- keeping obviously the intricacies of the subjectivity aside. And just so there also are good people and bad people.&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Bad people usually do bad things and harm others in many ways which could either be physically or emotionally. But they anyway are quite fucked up in their heads to do something as stupid as that. Not to say that this is their justification. But honestly what do you expect from a person whose mental wavelength is deranged enough to not see that his/her actions are going to lead to ramifications which are so grave that they are going to change the course of peoples lives. I mean it’s so obvious that they aren’t really thinking straight, isn’t it?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;So that isn’t much of a concern here. The matter of concern is the good people who are so weak from inside that they can’t handle the truth. Seriously all of us can go right ahead and ask ourselves this question right now that whether we can handle the truth or not. I’m pretty damn sure that most of us would like to say at this point that yes of course we can do that. I mean, what’s the big deal. In that case I would like to restructure the question for all of us. Can we really handle someone’s past? You know, you should really be thinking hard before you answer this one because you bet its a trick question. This past could really be horrendously ugly. That’s a little perturbing, huh?&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;No wonder people do not discuss there past with their loved ones. Though discussing really helps in easing out ones pain and losses but you can’t really do much about it as, you see, we have a bit of problem with understanding here. So honestly whether we are good or bad we aren’t really being much of a help to the person concerned.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0pt; LINE-HEIGHT: normal; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Here are a few lines from the movie Blood Diamond that ought to speak for the present scenario, “Sometimes I think will god ever forgive us for what we have done to ourselves. Then I look around and wonder… God left this place a long time ago.”&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-8950254557835289803?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/8950254557835289803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=8950254557835289803' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/8950254557835289803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/8950254557835289803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2009/05/good-and-bad-ones.html' title='The good and the bad ones'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-1602587722813837719</id><published>2009-04-03T22:19:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-04-03T22:26:28.548+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Sacrifice</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-style: italic;"&gt;“It only stands to reason that where there's sacrifice, there's someone collecting the sacrificial offerings. Where there's service, there is someone being served. The man who speaks to you of sacrifice is speaking of slaves and masters, and intends to be the master.”&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;i style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;-Ayn Rand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;I have literally grown up from my teenage, thinking and trying to calculate, the worth of a sacrifice. Life being strange as ever always puts us at a crossroad, where we have to choose between what’s best for us and our loved ones. To add on to the already existing confusion we have tools like education, upbringing and so called rationality to choose the best possible option. So, believe you me friends when I say that that’s one hell of a spot, you really don’t want to be in.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;You either choose what you want and make yourself happy at the cost of a lot of other peoples happiness or you choose what others want and make them happy at the cost of your own happiness. Man that’s a tight one. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Well, yes. You do owe a lot to a lot of people who make you what you are today and the obligation for all that is of course there. Isn’t it then perhaps right to choose others happiness over yours, given the situation. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Well, I reckon so. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;That’s called free will. You choose others happiness over yours, willingly and by your own accord. Irrespective of them not being aware of your sacrifice, you go ahead and give up that very thing that you really really wanted. That’s one way to go about it. The other way is to put someone right there in front of you and count all that you have done for them and ask them for a sacrifice, back in return. Even if that sacrifice means your own life, your freedom and your very right to choose what you want. How fair is that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;To be or not to be, that is the question;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And by opposing, end them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;-William Shakespeare, Hamlet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Here we stand in front of a paradoxical concept of either taking up arms against the irresistible sea of troubles, which indeed are suicidal or to bear them, which definitely will destroy us. Amidst all this I still haven’t been able to calculate the worth of a sacrifice. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-1602587722813837719?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/1602587722813837719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=1602587722813837719' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/1602587722813837719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/1602587722813837719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2009/04/sacrifice.html' title='Sacrifice'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-5735685744649749920</id><published>2009-03-03T20:27:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-03T20:42:18.678+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The City of Angels: Bangkok</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;One look at the steamy, pulsating, yet smiling metropolis, Bangkok and one would know that it’s a place for people who want an escape out from their usual hubbub. Streets lined with bars/pubs and massage parlors, of various shapes and sizes, show how easy it is to find sex there. As darkness falls the city begins to dazzle with neon-lit signs welcoming visitors to go-go bars, clubs, restaurants and theaters to experience and explore. Places like Sukhumvit, Khao San Road and Patpong welcome people to the hedonistic pursuits like drinking, dancing and complete debauchery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nana Plaza, a favourite with tourists and short-term visitors comprises of three floors of nightlife activity around a central atrium. The place also has something to offer for people with varied taste with a well-known Katoey or a transgender bar on the second floor. The CM2 club at the Hotel Novotel and the in-house club at the Grand Hyatt Erawan Bangkok are two popular destinations for people willing to shake a leg or two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apart from the usual revelling and binging, Bangkok also is a shopper’s paradise. The place is full of stand-alone shops and shopping complexes offering fabulous deals on a&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OgBfuwkogNk/Sa1F9t5be3I/AAAAAAAAATw/kHiup2Vv20w/s1600-h/n721406524_1874528_8548.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308976462334491506" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OgBfuwkogNk/Sa1F9t5be3I/AAAAAAAAATw/kHiup2Vv20w/s320/n721406524_1874528_8548.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ll kinds of goods. The choices are numerous ranging from upscale Siam Paragon, offering high premium designer luxury goods to the legendary Mah Boon Krong (MBK), with 2000 shops selling virtually everything from apparel to accessories to electronics under the same roof. The place also boasts of the largest shopping mall in South-East Asia in terms of CentralWorld Shopping Complex offering reasonable deals on various branded as well as non-branded goods. Another option for ready-to-wear clothing is the Pratunam Market transforming into a night market after the closure and by 8 O’clock in the evening, with various small makeshift shops opening on both sides of the road. One can also go to Patpong for various knick-knacks, open till wee hours in the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OgBfuwkogNk/Sa1Gamgi0AI/AAAAAAAAAT4/b8Zwmak-D8E/s1600-h/n721406524_1874532_9839.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308976958567272450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OgBfuwkogNk/Sa1Gamgi0AI/AAAAAAAAAT4/b8Zwmak-D8E/s320/n721406524_1874532_9839.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The city of Angels- or Krung Thep as it’s called in Thai- also has some of the treasures for sightseeing, which are a visual delight. The Wat Pho or The Temple of the Reclining Buddha is the largest temple in Bangkok. It is famous for its 46 meters long reclining Buddha statue covered in gold leaf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the most majestic, aesthetic and a complete must see amongst everything is the Grand Palace. Undoubtedly the city’s most famous landmark, the Grand Palace is a visual delight which leaves its visitors in a complete awe, with its beautiful architecture and fantas&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OgBfuwkogNk/Sa1HCUWRQYI/AAAAAAAAAUA/YK6NpLebzJA/s1600-h/IMG_0438.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308977640887107970" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OgBfuwkogNk/Sa1HCUWRQYI/AAAAAAAAAUA/YK6NpLebzJA/s320/IMG_0438.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;tic craftsmanship. Inside the palace complex is the famous What Phra Kaew or The Temple of the Emerald Buddha. The temple is situated in the outer court of the complex, near the entrance, which used to house the government departments. The central court was used to serve as the residence of the king with halls to conduct business whilst the inner court- not open to public- is where the Kings royal consorts and daughters lived. Though the Thai Kings stopped living in the palace around the twentieth century but it is still used for all kinds of official ceremonies and auspicious occasions. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bangkok as a tourist destination is a place that has something to offer to every traveler. My four-day trip to the place was enthralling enough to leave me craving for more. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-5735685744649749920?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/5735685744649749920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=5735685744649749920' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/5735685744649749920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/5735685744649749920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2009/03/city-of-angels-bangkok.html' title='The City of Angels: Bangkok'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OgBfuwkogNk/Sa1F9t5be3I/AAAAAAAAATw/kHiup2Vv20w/s72-c/n721406524_1874528_8548.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801077645017373985.post-7147586818700025852</id><published>2009-01-05T16:58:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-01-05T19:31:16.935+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The irony called Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,&lt;br /&gt;Love and desire and hate:&lt;br /&gt;I think they have no portion in us after&lt;br /&gt;We pass the gate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are not long, the days of wine and roses:&lt;br /&gt;Out of a misty dream&lt;br /&gt;Our path emerges for a while, then closes&lt;br /&gt;Within a dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Vitae Summa Brevis Spem Nos Vetat Incohare Longam&lt;br /&gt;Ernest Christopher Dowson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps a good question would be how fair life is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The answer, in retrospect, with all certainty is very unfair. As beyond the beautiful vignette is a story, comprising of unfulfilled desires, disappointments and desperation. Our life which comprises of the past, present and future elements is mostly like a river that ends into an ocean of unrealized dreams. The past is a vestige of unfulfilled desires, the present marked by expectations and the future tinged with hope. Now fortunately or unfortunately most things that we desire don’t work out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An optimist would like to say that it is our shortsightedness due to which we take all things that we think, to be best for us. It’s perhaps in our own best interest that most things don’t work out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly there is no denying this whole theory. But as humans we also tend to get disappointed, just as much as we tend to anticipate. Why is it then that we anticipate when we aren’t harbingers of good fortune? Shouldn’t we just take things, then in that case, the way they come to us rather than expecting and getting our hopes pinned to something, which has a likelihood of happening or not happening. Why think all together and why dream?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it’s all interlinked. If we don’t dream, then we won’t aspire and if we don’t aspire, we won’t work towards it and if we won’t work to achieve our dreams perhaps we shall receive even less. So I reckon, we always will aspire and end up getting disappointed for the things that we don’t get. But who said life’s fair. C'est La Vie, such is life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end I would like to finish off by quoting Helen Keller. “Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.” Therefore some people still dare to aspire while others don’t…. to avoid disappointment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-7147586818700025852?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/7147586818700025852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=7147586818700025852' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/7147586818700025852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/7147586818700025852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2009/01/irony-called-life.html' title='The irony called Life'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-8884276217758785927</id><published>2008-11-03T17:58:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-17T14:09:46.738+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Requiem for a Dream</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I sit and think at the end of the day. In retrospect I realize that there is so much that I never said to you. So much more that I felt, which you perhaps never heard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never told you how it hurts to see sadness on your face. Smile is what I always wanted for you. I know I hurt you. But I never told you how much I bled for all your hurt. I never spoke about the innumerable sleepless nights I spent, thinking about the pain and the hurt I caused. I never told you about the weakness I felt in my knees, at your sight. The satisfaction and the restitution your presence brought. Never did I speak of the happiness that your smile brought to me. I never said how gratifying it was to see you sleeping, next to me. I never told you how heart wrenching it is to hear distress in your voice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never told you how I still remember the smell of your tresses. I know I never told you how much I loved you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-8884276217758785927?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/8884276217758785927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=8884276217758785927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/8884276217758785927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/8884276217758785927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/11/requiem-for-dream.html' title='Requiem for a Dream'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-5591783752978970961</id><published>2008-10-25T13:32:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2008-10-26T19:45:59.007+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Beginner’s Luck</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The term beginner’s luck is used most often in gambling or sport. When a person with limited knowledge and practically no experience achieves a result which is better than an expected one it is called beginner’s luck. Theoretically speaking this defies the Rosenthal effect, which states that students who are expected to perform better usually perform better. But statistically speaking, people who randomly achieve better results in something are likely to develop an interest in that thing; thereby honing their skills to become an expert at it. Another archaic rather philosophical reason is that the universe conspires in ones favour to work things out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cause for this phenomenon is unknown but the speculation, however, is that it usually happens because of a disconnect between the person involved and the pressure. A novice, lacking expertise and experience, is usually not expected to do well and is therefore under less pressure as compared to a seasoned person. This lack of pressure thus allows the person to concentrate more than his veteran counterpart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Practically speaking none of this is applicable to a large extent. I would like to quote an example of a person from my immediate family. This person breezed through his academics without an iota of concern about anything and he did fantastically well for himself too. A couple of years down the line he got serious about his life and he then realized that good old lady luck had suddenly abandoned him to fend for himself. Despite his best efforts he was jobless for one whole year and couldn’t do much about it apart from getting flustered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of us are inadvertently careless initially. But there also comes a time in our lives when we get serious about our affairs and that is exactly the point when things just change drastically. Before this it’s mostly the beginner’s luck which sees us through. Most people generally don’t come to realize this. They think that they are born lucky and come what may they are bound to succeed. Giving up opportunities which literally knocks on their doors. Always uncompromising, thinking that the best would naturally work out for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here’s a thing about luck; which still is a superset of beginner’s luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Luck is not chance -&lt;br /&gt;It's Toil -&lt;br /&gt;Fortune's expensive smile&lt;br /&gt;Is earned -&lt;br /&gt;The Father of the Mine&lt;br /&gt;Is that old-fashioned Coin&lt;br /&gt;We spurned -&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Emily Dickinson&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-5591783752978970961?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/5591783752978970961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=5591783752978970961' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/5591783752978970961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/5591783752978970961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/10/beginners-luck.html' title='Beginner’s Luck'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-6233536061565919131</id><published>2008-10-03T14:48:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2008-10-23T12:38:19.423+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Horoscopes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;Horoscopes, zodiac: sun sign, Chinese animal signs, tarots, numerology, et cetra. I, for one, have been a person who has never believed in any of it and the thing is that I still don’t. I have always wondered what compels people to go to shrinks and palmists. What is it that people seek with their future being foretold?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;None of these things have intrigued me ever; but to be honest I’ve also once gotten a tarot reading done and given a chance I’m quite sure I’d do it again. My reason then was mostly curiosity and to cross-check the authenticity of it. The thing is that I’ve always seen my horoscope and then tried to find faults and loop-holes in it.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;That being my reason, I was unable to understand others psyche for the same; until a few months back. For some apparent and not so apparent reasons my life stooped to a new level then. Candidly speaking I had actually hit the bottom of the barrel when it came to my confidence and optimism levels. That was exactly when I started depending on most of these things mentioned above. When I say depend what I actually mean is that absolutely look forward to any and all of it, every single day. In retrospect I think I do understand my dependence then on horoscopes, so much so. I then was on a desperate lookout for change and seeing none I used to refer to horoscopes, to find one. I was actually trying to find a reason to convince myself that things would change. Not that they don’t with time but with no improvement in sight, I was trying to look at my horoscopes, as a harbinger of the much needed change. Which could perhaps give me an inclination about the time when things and situations would be different; bringing with it the relief that I needed.&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;It’s quite funny how the human mind works, come to think of it. I rarely look at my horoscope these days but I think I do understand now, why a lot of people do so. I’m quite sure that they have their various other reasons too but one things for sure that horoscopes do give us some hope at desperate times.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-6233536061565919131?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/6233536061565919131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=6233536061565919131' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/6233536061565919131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/6233536061565919131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/10/horoscopes.html' title='Horoscopes'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801077645017373985.post-4951380753596329279</id><published>2008-10-02T13:09:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-10-02T14:41:01.692+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Bitter Truth</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;We all love to make those beautiful sandcastles when on sandy beaches, don’t we? It’s a piece of art and if worked upon properly can be an extreme delight to the eye. When making sandcastles one has to aptly mix fine and coarse sand granules so that the balance is restored. Come to think of it our life is also pretty much the same- a befitting mixture of fine and coarse things. You have more of either and things go haywire, making life one big mess. What we can do is to work up a magic with sand and water to make the whole thing look breathtakingly beautiful. But what we cannot do is to live in that beautiful castle of sand. As prepossessing as it might be but the truth is that it’s far far away from reality: the so called truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;That’s truth for us. Not to say that we all not know how bitter it is. Let us, for an instance, see how much of truth do we seek.  Most of us ask for an opinion stating that we would ideally want to know the truth. Next time anyone does that, try doing psychoanalysis of the person and you would know how much one is interested in the ideal truth that he/she so promptly talks about. Here’s the real deal. Before asking for any kind of opinion we already form a preconceived one, in most cases. So what we actually do is to reconfirm it from the other person. If we get an affirmation we gladly accept it as a sound advice and if we don’t then we look for a second opinion. Apropos, if both the first and the second opinion live up to our expectations then we get really sure about the whole thing. Funny how the human mind works, eh? So what can clearly be seen is that we want anything but the truth in most cases.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Now that we talk about truth, let’s also talk about the one thing which makes it so god damn difficult to admit truth. That my friends is, hope. Why hope? Well, hope is the source of ones greatest strength and at the same time ones greatest weakness. Hope, innumerably, sees us through times where uncertainty prevails. But there are also times when it’s the damn hope that keeps us from accepting the truth. The thing about truth is that it gets bitterer and even more rancid, as time progresses. So the sooner we accept it the better off we are; else there’s life waiting to teach us the hard way.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;To get rid of our false hopes what we ideally need  is a hard slap of reality. It has to be really hard so that it brings all our false hopes crashing down. We need to understand that we can’t actually live in those castles of sand that look so aesthetic. Good part is that life is cruel enough or perhaps provident to make us realise. Matter-of-factly, it really hurts but at the same time it does what it’s supposed to do- open your goddamn eyes to the bitter truth. &lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-4951380753596329279?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/4951380753596329279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=4951380753596329279' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/4951380753596329279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/4951380753596329279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/10/bitter-truth.html' title='The Bitter Truth'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-1484061150076915531</id><published>2008-08-29T20:17:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-30T10:46:20.985+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Mumbai: The City of Sham</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The pre independence unification which India witnessed is quite paradigmatic; that in itself speaks a lot for a nation which stood united against all odds to defy the British colonialism in India. A proud moment that I, along with all other Indians, share. This obviously has given me a thoroughgoing reason to advocate our oneness to one and all. At the same time I have also always been countered by a friend of mine as per who it was just this one time that we displayed the so-called unity otherwise which, India as a nation has always been segregated. Thus the word unification is used in the beginning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I, thankfully do not have to worry about a place to live in Mumbai as of now but had scurried around Bandra early this year, looking for a place on rent, for a friend of mine who happens to be a Muslim. Astonishingly we were turned away from many places then for one simple reason, being people who owned the place simply refusing to give it on rent to a Muslim. Some of these places happened to be on the plush Bandstand. And we always thought that educated people think differently, looking at the gentry. Nonetheless, with time things change and so do people along with it- at the least most we like to believe so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of weeks back I was house hunting once more; again in Bandra and coincidentally once again for a Muslim friend. I saw a fairly neat apartment on Carter Road which I very much liked and I also had had a chance to speak with the proprietor. We affably discussed the intricacies of the contract and the lady in question being congenial everything seemed quite nice. Amongst the general discourse she happened to ask if I were a Punjabi; which she was and which I have more often been mistaken as. To which I replied that I wasn’t. I also immediately informed her, at that time, that the person who would be staying in is a Muslim. And there we go again, déjà vu. She said that she personally had no qualms in taking anyone as a tenant from any religion whatsoever, but the people in the building, being predominantly Sindhis and Punjabis, were opposed to it. She even went on to state that she wanted to sell her apartment and the interested party being a Muslim, was facing a strong resistance from the entire lot in the building.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s such a shame that we choose to live in a society which is marred by dogmatism. The worst part is that it comes from a bunch of people who happen to be educated and of superior upbringing. We prissily discus the whole situation in parties and in front of numerous people with a lot of zeal, but when push comes to shove we once again act our ghastly self. Moreover, when a public figure like Shabana Azmi, who has relentless spoken in favour of the rightful, states the obvious which is going on, people like Aadesh Shrivastava have an audacity to publicly rebuke her. How naïve or oblivious can a person be to not see what’s happening right under his nose. Is democracy a perquisite of a certain class or a set of people? With hypocrisy at its helm, Mumbai, the City of Dream seems to be turning into a City of Sham.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-1484061150076915531?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/1484061150076915531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=1484061150076915531' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/1484061150076915531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/1484061150076915531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/08/mumbai-city-of-sham.html' title='Mumbai: The City of Sham'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801077645017373985.post-6455218041490728455</id><published>2008-07-29T11:30:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-02-07T15:04:51.610+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Lost in Translation....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;All of us have a dream. We dream to aspire, to happiness and to various things- seeking out, venturing to turn it into reality. Dreams, I believe, are quite essential as they invoke a thought in us which takes shape when succeeded by proper action. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Bagger Vance: There's a perfect shot trying to find every one of us. All we got to do is get ourselves out of its way... ...and let it choose us.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;And so it has almost been a year now that I had one of those dreams which made me venture out and look for my perfect shot, which I hadn’t even known to be perfect for me. When people seek out to pursue a dream they either find themselves on their way or digress and lose themselves, which I was made aware of this past weekend. I was told by an ally, who has known me closely for quite a few years, that somewhere over this period I have changed a lot- especially from being an optimist to a pessimist. Change is an eminent part of life; but for a guy whose survival so far has been fuelled by optimism, to switch to an opposite mode is unhealthy and dangerous. More over I have always believed and have reasons to do so, that optimism is a great trait and helps one in numerous ways over many a quandary. The truth is that I don’t know if I really have switched to that gear but change there has been. In the translation of my dream into reality, it seems, I’ve lost some part of me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Affably I listened to my benefactor who told me to let go of certain things from my past which I had been clinging on to like my dear life. I zealously avowed to do so, as was expected of me and thus the chapter was closed. I would like to narrate my dream before I wind up…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…I dreamt of a clear moon lit night. I was standing in front of a lake and in it I saw a beautiful reflection: of felicity, of beatitude, of love and of life. I lunged to catch it, but it moved as much away from me as I moved towards it. And there I was chasing an image on water. Beautiful as it might be but the fact remains that it’s still what we call a &lt;em&gt;fata morgana&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-6455218041490728455?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/6455218041490728455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=6455218041490728455' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/6455218041490728455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/6455218041490728455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/07/lost-in-translation.html' title='Lost in Translation....'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-5392187104068760067</id><published>2008-07-07T14:53:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-07-08T15:37:28.524+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Pain</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The sun is below the horizon, it’s beautiful red light being refracted from the earth’s atmosphere as it is about to rise. Its early morning and a new day is about to begin. Looking at the twilight I wonder whether it finally ends today. Days of waiting have been converted to weeks and weeks to months but I still feel the pain inside me. I wonder if I will ever see the end of this pain, which has been there for such a long time now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m tired of this wait and the sleepless nights. I wish I could do something to take all this pain and all this hurt away. It seems as though it’s my skin and I have been asked to live with it; as with it comes my redemption. I wish I could walk away from everything and go off to a distant place where I don’t know anyone. I wish I could turn my back to everyone I know and simply fade into nowhere. How I wish I could just walk away from everything and everyone in my life. It is perhaps then that I might find some peace. It is perhaps then that my pain would end. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knows I just might.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-5392187104068760067?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/5392187104068760067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=5392187104068760067' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/5392187104068760067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/5392187104068760067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/07/pain.html' title='Pain'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-6611988713536241367</id><published>2008-06-30T21:18:00.009+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-30T11:35:27.162+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Go Goa</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 115%;font-size:12;" &gt;I got a chance to explore Goa once more this weekend. This trip brought back some wonderful memories and the visit, for me, was nostalgic. The self-absorption, joy, and feeling that there is nothing more to say were the manifestations of a walk in the memory lane. I had visited Goa last August for the first time and had instantly fallen in love with the place. Goa is one of those places which one can never have enough of; at least for me. This last visit was very special to me as I had gone holidaying with a bunch of like minded people and all of us had a great time there; moreover I also got to meet someone because of which my life took not one but quite a few detours. Apart from all this I also got to drive at the place as we were a group of five and car was the optimum mode of transportation that could be there given our number, so a car was what we hired for our movement, locally. &lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 115%;font-size:12;" &gt;Believe me there’s nothing more exhilarating for a person who loves to drive, than driving at a place like Goa. It’s mostly a hilly track with nominal traffic- as it was off-season when we went vacationing. The weather was a bit hot, but for most part not very sunny with some squalls here and there. Roads in Goa are a single lane, two-way track flanked by lots and lots of greenery on both sides. If not trees and bushes then its water which is there on either or both sides of the road and driving at such a wonderful place is extremely appeasing and the experience is hard to forget. I really enjoyed my stint as a driver there. This particular aspect of my visit had also in a way left a lasting impression on me.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 115%;font-size:12;" &gt;We hogged onto a lot of sea-food at Souza Lobo on Calangute Beach and Britto’s on Baga Beach apart from some hardcore partying at Club Titos, the famous discotheque cum nightclub near Baga Beach. This as a matter of fact had been strategically placed on my fixed agenda for further visits to be made, to the place. So I made it a point to visit Souza Lobo this time and the food as usual was yummy. Nothing beats a fulfilling round of Baked Crabs with White Sauce and Fried Masala Prawns as starters and King Fish Curry with Rice as the main course. Who has any space for dessert after such a hearty meal, definitely not me. Brittos was unfortunately closed as it being the peak off-season and the owners taking a vacation, leaving the best vacationing spot and going off to the not so best vacationing spot, I presume. Luckily I found a small shack next to Brittos, called St. Lawrence Restaurant and Bar, right on the beach.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It was an open air bar with  Karaoke on Saturdays and my entire evening was spent sipping on to a drink and humming on to some very old tracks like Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton and some relatively newer ones like The Reason by Hoobastank and Hero by Enrique Iglesias, apart from various other numbers. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 115%;font-size:12;" &gt;Next morning I woke up early, as a habit and after having breakfast went off to the beach for a walk. The weather was slightly overcast with a bit of sun. It was a high tide and the water was foamy white. I took a long walk at the beach all by myself and sat at an upturned boat looking at the beautiful waves. Sea has always fascinated me a lot more than anything else and I think I’m more of a water person. Therefore no other thing is more relaxing and unwinding than looking at the strong waves, like a billion horses galloping down with their mane in tow. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 115%;font-size:12;" &gt;With a lot of remorse, I took a Monday evening flight back to Mumbai; once again feeling that I was unable to have enough of the place. I had always wanted to do Goa alone and was damn sure that that in itself would be quite an experience; and so it turned out to be. Though I'm back to my clichéd city life but am also planning to pack my bags soon enough and once again saying, Go Goa.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-6611988713536241367?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/6611988713536241367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=6611988713536241367' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/6611988713536241367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/6611988713536241367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/06/go-goa.html' title='Go Goa'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-7121749635654015400</id><published>2008-06-17T17:09:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-30T11:49:15.660+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Of Bloated &amp; Inflated Ego</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This is a tale from one of the not so distant lands in galaxy. There was a planet called Earth, inhabited by various carbon-based life forms, apart from other things. Amongst these carbon based life forms was an extant species of the primate family Hominidae. This specie was of the genus Homo and was called Homo sapiens. They were included in this genus because they had a larger brain as compared to their predecessors; who had initially surfaced some 5 million years ago. They were broadly classified as Men and Women in earthly terms.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[The word “Home sapiens” is derived from Latin and means “wise man”&lt;br /&gt;(Latin) homō, man + (Latin) sapiēns, wise, rational; present participle of sapere, to be wise]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These carbon-based life forms, called Homo sapiens, could have lived in perfect harmony with one another but for the fact that they had bloated ego which made it immensely difficult for them to admit the truth….&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, that my dear friends is the situation. People never fail to amaze me and I’m sure with the way our society is evolving, they never will. We cook up such folklore- as an excuse- that one is left extremely flabbergasted and bemused, even regaled, at times. Well as a matter of fact almost anything would do other than the truth. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder why it is so difficult to admit the truth. How about “I was angry and irritated with you that’s why I did what I did.” That’s it; that seriously is it. Well doesn’t sound all that difficult to me. Not to say that my ego is not inflated and at times even I stammer when it comes to admitting the truth. In fact the speech, then, is not so verbose and one is completely devoid of the look eloquent in compassion. The truth is also that I try to deflate my ego as much as I can.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny thing is that every other person that one knows is almost ready to point it out to you how egoistic you are. I presume it’s the blame game that all of us love to play without looking within. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;….And thence the synonymous Homo sapiens of the planet earth were urged to deflate their inflated ego and to thus live in perfect accord by being truthful to one another.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-7121749635654015400?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/7121749635654015400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=7121749635654015400' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/7121749635654015400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/7121749635654015400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/06/of-bloated-inflated-ego.html' title='Of Bloated &amp; Inflated Ego'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-2725552111672951510</id><published>2008-06-10T19:32:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-06-11T10:05:52.982+05:30</updated><title type='text'>My Abilities…</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I know where I am going with this one; therefore to start with, I would like to state that I don’t consider myself to be a part of the unfortunate lot in any way. I have had the most terrific upbringing that matter-of-factly lesser number of people have. Supportive parents, abundance of freedom, great childhood and a wonderful teenage are what my life, so far, comprises of. I don’t see any reason why I should complain and subsequently state that I have missed onto a lot of things in life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apart from the upbringing and the education that I have had, there is also this one another thing which makes me different from a lot of other people. It is my ability to not forget things. The good part is that I cherish all the wonderful moments of my life by remembering them and thinking about them; the bad part is that I can’t forget my terrible times and therefore can’t help but think about them at times also. Well I suppose that a lot of us are made that way and there would be many amongst us who can’t really forget their bad times. What makes me different from them is that I don’t tend to find an escape route for my not so picturesque moments in time. I put up a very brave front and like a martyr take all my difficulties at face value. Neither do I blame others nor do I look to be melodramatic and get into a self-pity mode for all my mishaps. Come to think of it, it’s more like a self-contempt mode that I get into, not degenerating and certainly not demeaning in any way. The net result is that I storm out of my sorrow very quickly but at the same time I also capture it within me, thus restoring it to some part of my memory which is quite frequently made to visit by small and big instances. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m not a very religious man but I have a substantial amount of faith and faith does come before hope as well as before love. Well I believe that I have been made this way for a purpose, along with a certain level of resilience which makes me prone to pain in life- the balance of nature as we call it. Therefore I am subjected to it time and again; suffering but also recovering quickly and moving ahead. But there is a certain level for everyone, as much a human mind can take. When we transgress then it’s all numbness which is left and the pain simply goes away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At times, I wish I could also take the easy way out and just blame others for everything in life. Or perhaps get drunk and put the onus of it all on the other person, like most people do. That, is what we call wishful thinking- the vicious cycle still goes on. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-2725552111672951510?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/2725552111672951510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=2725552111672951510' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2725552111672951510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2725552111672951510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/06/my-abilities.html' title='My Abilities…'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-3192777027514463094</id><published>2008-05-02T18:58:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2008-05-03T10:53:19.097+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Inheritance of Loss</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I had an epiphany. Ever considered why it is tough for people to forget and forgive? We as humans tend to make mistakes, which might hurt someone and leave a dent in relationships. The severity of the hurt is proportional to the dent. Deeper the scar, tougher the damage and lighter the scar, easier it is for people to move on and forget everything. Isn’t that what we tend to believe? I guess it seems quite apparent that if the hurt is deep then the damage might be permanent. After all there is so much a person stands to lose; how can one forget all which was at stake and all which was thus lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we look at the whole not-able-to-forget scenario from a totally different angle then we perhaps might see something else. The truth is that some people look at it differently. Whenever they would want to forgive, they would ideally place their suffering and their losses on one side of the scale and the other persons suffering and his losses on the immediate side. Now comes the measuring act. Oh, dear me! I clearly seem to have suffered more and lost more. How can I forgive him that easy? Well just a petit sorry and that’s how he gets away. No way, no goddamn way it’s happening. Well that’s your brand new reason which is a tad tough to admit in front of others. As for the avowable reason, one can ostentatiously say that it’s quite an ordeal for me to forget all that had happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe the other person’s loss is not manifested. How the hell do we know whether the other person hasn’t suffered as much or perhaps even more; tell me, how one quantifies loss. Most things that we do are propelled by a reason or a purpose. We take a leap, a huge jump and a gamble at times, turning our ordered life topsy-turvy; only to realize one day that that purpose has been turned to dust. Isn’t that loss grave too? Tell me how it feels, when one morning you wake up only to realize that there is no reason why you are at a certain place. I am not a wise man and maybe I can’t quantify someone’s loss; but the truth is that pain for me is also pain for others. All of us scowl and cringe equally when subjected to it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I tend to forget and forgive as much as I can. Not because I think I’m virtuous but I think it to be the only plausible solution. I could either sit and think about my loss and brood upon the hatred thus arousing out of it or I could just move ahead and let it go. I choose the latter and do as much but I wish others could take a cue, as well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-3192777027514463094?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/3192777027514463094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=3192777027514463094' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/3192777027514463094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/3192777027514463094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/05/inheritance-of-loss.html' title='The Inheritance of Loss'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-7117710814756200758</id><published>2008-04-28T19:47:00.007+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-30T12:01:16.001+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Personal Loss</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The inevitable happened today. Someone from my immediate family died this morning. The person in question had been bed ridden for a while and was suffering from cancer, so as it is there wasn’t much hope. To make things worse, I, who was to call this person last night didn’t do so and therefore ended up feeling miserable the whole day. I got the news of his deteriorating health late last night but procrastinated calling as it was a long distance call and on top of it I was with a bunch of friends. I anyway couldn’t have spoken to the person in question and I thought it to be just a matter of one day before I called; so big deal if I call tomorrow. Tragedy struck exactly in this one day and I couldn’t help but feel wretched about my recklessness; realising how things can change in a day, hour, minute or perhaps even in a few seconds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it comes to my family, I am quite reticent and I tend to not discuss the same with most people I know, even close ones. The rare ones that you discuss some few things with say “I am sorry to hear” as soon as they come across similar situation. Well, I’m quite sure that its courtesy and empathy which compels people to say so but I completely fail to understand the compassion intended by issuance of such statements, especially from these few select ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I come across such situations, with acquaintances I do the same. But somehow I fail to comprehend the usage of such words with people that I am close to. How the hell can I feel the pain that someone else is going through and therefore I believe it to be true the other way round also. Why is it necessary to reply at all times and for all things? Maybe a simple hug or just a look or even bloody silence would do for me. But not those words, hell no. There is no goddamn way I can believe that and therefore I simply can't come to say it to people that are close to me. I am not capable of saying something that I don’t feel; that’s just not me. Maybe I’m too crassly but that’s the way I am.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of it all I’m still thankful to all these lovely people, who at least try to show that they understand even if they can’t feel my pain. God bless them all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-7117710814756200758?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/7117710814756200758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=7117710814756200758' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/7117710814756200758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/7117710814756200758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/04/personal-loss.html' title='Personal Loss'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801077645017373985.post-6609359402121711605</id><published>2008-04-17T19:46:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2008-04-24T18:58:07.665+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Memoirs of a Beautiful Night</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Experiences, isn’t life all about experiences. What we are in the present is a miscellaneous anthology, a grab bag and a mishmash of related or unrelated events from our past. All these past events along with some anticipation, also deduced from erstwhile happenings, reflects very strongly upon our present; thus making us the person that we are. Alfred North Whitehead had said, “What we perceive as present is the vivid fringe of memory tinged with anticipation.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nonetheless, the quintessential reason for this post is an experience that I have had in my past which is still vivid- a recollection of a beautiful night. What was so special about the night? Apart from all essential ingredients like the ambience, the situation and the mood; there was this one another thing that did it for me.         &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Those true eyes&lt;br /&gt;Too pure and too honest in aught to disguise&lt;br /&gt;The sweet soul shining through them”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Owen Meredith (Edward Robert Lytton Bulwer-Lytton)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it indeed was eyes. Don’t they speak for themselves? I have always believed that they do. A close observation of the eyes and one could know what’s going on in the head. We can hide our emotions by manipulating our expression but we can’t do so with the eyes. Perhaps the best that we can do is to very quickly recover but eyes really speak for themselves at the precise time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what did I see in those eyes? I saw a lot of warmth, love and want; which somehow was suppressed. I saw happiness in those eyes which was on account of the moment being perfect. I also saw fear in those eyes which was perhaps from the imagination that the whole thing might lead to a fallacy. I saw, in those eyes, a want to surrender; to give in to the moment and to resign to the consequences, whatsoever they might be. Exceptionally dreamy and extremely beautiful, those eyes captivated my senses more than anything. In fact to such an extent that I still haven’t forgotten them; I think I never will. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;em&gt;She walks in beauty, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And all that's best of dark and bright&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Meet in her aspect and her eyes &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord Byron&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-6609359402121711605?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/6609359402121711605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=6609359402121711605' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/6609359402121711605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/6609359402121711605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/04/memoirs-of-beautiful-night.html' title='Memoirs of a Beautiful Night'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-2515457689370366005</id><published>2008-04-09T15:35:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-30T12:06:19.086+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Shadows from Past</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;Yes, I got a visit from my past today. One event leading to another and then another; and thus a reminder of something from the past. It was an odd feeling, a mix of warmth and happiness along with a pang. Sweetness blended with an equal amount of bitterness.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a guy who rarely forgets things in life; especially when it comes to experiences and situations, irrespective of them being good or bad. In a way it’s a great thing as it is a valuable source of strength for me. Every failure or success is an experience for me, educating and teaching something new- stress being on failure. The best way to learn is to fall and learn; as once we fall, we hurt ourselves and when we hurt ourselves, we make it a point to not repeat our mistake. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;Charles Krauthammer had said that &lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;“The flip side of retrospectively savaging the loser is beatifying . . . the winner.”&lt;/span&gt; So, on the flip side this very source of my strength, in a way, is my weakness. When we grow over our past we tend to bury it somewhere inside of us. Most of us do it in an effective way so that they can’t reminisce. While some of us are not so effective in doing that and get a reminder about the same. I am one of those unfortunate ones who falls under the latter category. How do you feel when you are reminded about something that you had pursued with an undying passion? If you get that thing then obviously you wouldn’t care as much, but if you not only not get it but also get a reminder of it some time later, then… it hurts. It hurts but you can’t help smile and you feel like submitting yourself once again to the cause that you had once so staunchly believed in. For the most part one doesn’t capitulate but definitely do feel like acquiescing. It’s so befuddling when you feel that you possibly want to get back or perhaps not. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;I really wish I could get back… but I know I will not.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-2515457689370366005?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/2515457689370366005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=2515457689370366005' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2515457689370366005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2515457689370366005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/04/shadows-from-past.html' title='Shadows from Past'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801077645017373985.post-4026365243084216373</id><published>2008-04-01T10:28:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2008-04-01T18:58:30.813+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Love Lost</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Loving someone and being loved back is by far the toughest thing. Why? Frankly speaking, I have no clue; considering the fact that most of us spend a lifetime looking for love. Have I loved before? Oh yes! Of course I have loved before. I have been fortunate and not so fortunate. When I say fortunate, I mean that like everyone else, I too got a chance to love someone and when I say not so fortunate, what I mean is that like most of us, I too blew it away. Am I sorry for that? Believe you me, I am. All I can say is that I have bled and that too to an extent that I feel anemic now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Such is my love, to thee I so belong&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;That for thy right myself will bear all wrong.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We rant and whine and crib for want of someone in our life. We say that we’d go to any extent to get the person in question; willing to defy all odds and to sacrifice all that we can. We even get to begging in front of the person to take us back into their life; asking for one last chance to prove worthiness and to make every wrong right. And so we get our second chance; only to once again throw it away. Classic, isn’t it? I personally believe that, all things that have a price tag attached to it, each and every god damn thing that money can buy, howsoever expensive it might be, is the cheapest and the easiest to get. Well, if I can buy it then someone somewhere else can buy it too; all that they have to do is perhaps spend an obscene amount of money on it. The most expensive and the toughest thing, in my opinion, is to preserve a relationship; to give a moments happiness to someone; to brighten someone’s life with mere presence and to love unconditionally. That, my friends, is the toughest thing to do; as it hangs by a mere thread. A little off-balance and snap goes the thread. Breaking everything and destroying all the hard work and the honest effort.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have completely stopped thinking about love; well at least for the moment. And it doesn’t hurt me anymore to realize that I don’t have someone as special in my life. If I am fortunate enough then perhaps someday I will find someone who could love me and give me a chance to love back. Nonetheless, what hurts me most is to see someone who I know and who is close to me suffering in the cause of love; anxiously waiting for that one moment that never occurs in time, that one call which is never made and that one message which never reaches. I have never seen someone so unfortunate in my life; someone who is loved with so much passion, dedication and persuasion; that very someone who doesn’t really care about any of this. I bleed to see either person suffering as much even when each of them confess that they are in love with one another- ironical, very ironical. I wish we had a better sense of understanding than what we display and could perhaps comprehend the importance of something as pure as love. Otherwise, what remains is pure guilt and nothing more, when love is lost.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-4026365243084216373?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/4026365243084216373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=4026365243084216373' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/4026365243084216373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/4026365243084216373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/04/love-lost.html' title='The Love Lost'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-2769923810430264149</id><published>2008-03-29T11:17:00.008+05:30</published><updated>2008-04-09T16:48:54.010+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Price That I Paid</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The Devil said, "I, the Devil, a not-for-profit organization, with office in Purgatory, Hell will give you seven wishes to use as you see fit. Seven utterly fabulous wishes for one piddling, little soul."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so I sold my soul to the devil. The only difference being that I did it for one single wish and not seven. What prompted me to do so? That's a complex question which has an eclectic answer. It started quite a few years back when I realised that for some odd reason I wasn't happy. I had all the material things at my disposition and yet happiness eluded me. Befuddled I started looking for that missing element in my life. I did all I could to find happiness and perhaps I did find it at some instances but only ephemerally. I later realised that my source was never right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had always looked for happiness through external medium and happiness can never be found externally; I realised this with time but to no effect. Happiness comes from inside and that's the only plausible medium for it. Happiness is in every moment that we spend, when that particular moment is spent in all earnest. If we want to be happy we have to live the moment fully as happiness resides in all the things that we do normally as a part of our daily routine: sharing a meal with the family, talking to friends, reading &amp;amp;c.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This realisation came to me at atime when I had already let the devil take the hindmost. We live in a society which has drawbacks and as a part of that society it's imperative that we work towards the elimination of these very drawbacks. It's a responsibility that all of us have, as an individual. Very smartly I have turned my back towards all these responsibilities and from a person who used to care a lot about others, I have become one who cares jack shit. My friends tell me that I have become very hard and I don’t really care about others. I should move out of this shell that I have made around me and once again look at things from a wider angle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never deny their effort and their sincerity. I know that all these people care a lot about me and all of them are right. But for the moment I like this disease and I am happy with it. Maybe with time I’ll move away from it. Matteroffactly, as I move away from the busy city life that I have in Mumbai, at the moment, back to the place I hate to love, Delhi, things will be back to where it were. But for the moment I have a proclivity towards the state I’m in, which is good enough to keep me sticking to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything that we get in life has a price to it and I guess this is the price that I have paid for my so called gratification. If it's true, then so be it; at least for a while.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-2769923810430264149?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/2769923810430264149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=2769923810430264149' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2769923810430264149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2769923810430264149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/03/price-that-i-paid.html' title='The Price That I Paid'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-7897623196123371766</id><published>2008-03-24T21:40:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-03-25T10:55:26.866+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Me, Myself &amp; I</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I must say that I had an amazing weekend this time round. I work for one of those companies where an off is like a distant dream but rarely a reality. Even when our multi-cultural country indulges into any kind of conviviality; my office is open because some market that we cater to is open, somewhere around the globe. But unlike most of these days my office was closed last week, unusually, for good four days. So, I had an extended weekend to make merry- which in fact is totally infectious and makes you crave for more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And ergo, I indulged into a lot of reveling all across Mumbai; from well know joints to house parties, I did it all; the partners in crime being a bunch of friends, most of who live in Mumbai and a mutual friend who has recently shifted to Pune. Apart from the late night binges there also was a lot of raw guitar music, all acoustic, supplied by either of us; coupled with a lot of singing. All in all it was a crazy time that all of us had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nonetheless, moving over to the raison d’être for this post which is a serious discussion I had with my friend, the one who had come from Pune, about how I and another very good friend of ours have changed over the course of our stay in Mumbai. His opinion was that both of us have become quite indifferent and fairly apathetic towards everything; our reason for the same being this city that we are living in. Mumbai for some strange reason, I feel, has done it to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, is this phenomenon, or to be precise noumenon, good or bad? I can’t really see how bad it could be in the long run but at the moment the good part about it is that I find myself to be happy; and happiness for sure had desolated me for a long long time. Perhaps for the first time in my life I have completely stopped thinking about what I should be doing to make others happy. Priorities are of course in place in terms of my family and my near and dear ones. They do get the attention that they are supposed to get but other than that, this time round I have strangely stopped thinking about making every individual associated with me, happy. Maybe I am being selfish and egocentric, not thinking about others but I feel providential and that is all that matters. I feel as though I am exploring and figuring myself out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Who knows this might just be a mirage or an anomaly but as long as I’m happy I really don’t care. Christian Nevell Bovee had once said that “No man is happy without a delusion of some kind. Delusions are as necessary to our happiness as realities.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-7897623196123371766?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/7897623196123371766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=7897623196123371766' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/7897623196123371766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/7897623196123371766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/03/me-myself-i.html' title='Me, Myself &amp; I'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-2592002097607435554</id><published>2008-03-08T12:35:00.008+05:30</published><updated>2008-03-08T12:52:21.162+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Throw &amp; Catch</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This one’s a bloggers game and it’s one of those chain things wherein someone passes the buck on to you and you in turn have to keep the tradition going by passing it on to someone else; now that I have been tagged, I need to perform the bloggers liturgy. The great part about the entire ordeal is that people categorically get to read a lot of one’s older posts under predefined headings; at the same time, the tough part is to choose a limited number of posts to be put under respective headings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, this is how it goes…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Post 5 links to 5 of your previously written posts. The posts have to relate to the 5 keywords given (family, friends, yourself, your love, and anything you like). Tag 5 other friends to do the same. Try to tag at least 2 new acquaintances (if not, your current blog buddies will do) so that you get to know them each a little bit better. Don't forget to read the linked posts and leave comments!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family: Tough one, as I haven’t written anything about my family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friends: Happen to write a piece some time back, which is quite educating. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;- &lt;a href="http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/02/startling-revelation.html"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;A startling revelation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yourself: The toughest to pick from, being a narcissist; as per my friends. Nonetheless, this one is more about my feelings based on some particular situation rather than it being an ode to oneself.&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;a href="http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/01/trust.html"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Trust&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your Love: two completely different posts and I couldn’t leave out any of them.&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;a href="http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/01/ode-to-thee-one-that-i-admire.html"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Ode to thee- One that i admire&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;a href="http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2007/12/her-that-i-love-i-wish-to-be-free-even.html"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Her that I love, I wish to be free - even from me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anything You like: Another tough one as I had scores of posts lined for this one.&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;a href="http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2007/12/love-is-like-magic-but-magic-is-just.html"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Love, is like magic. But magic is... just an illusion&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To keep the ball rolling:&lt;br /&gt;3 people to tag: &lt;a href="http://www.insiyahvahanvaty.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Musings&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.najamgiilani.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Political Animal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://cerenamroth.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Alo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;2 new people: &lt;a href="http://www.memoirsofabrokenman.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Memoirs of a Broken Man&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://canuvworms.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;Can of Worms&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Hope ya’ll like the posts and keep the tradition going.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-2592002097607435554?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/2592002097607435554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=2592002097607435554' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2592002097607435554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2592002097607435554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/03/throw-catch.html' title='Throw &amp; Catch'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-2453350626764157757</id><published>2008-02-27T17:46:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-02-27T18:55:03.538+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Bucket List</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A friend of mine told me about this movie called “The Bucket List”, over weekend. Naturally my first reaction was what interesting movie will have as weird a name as that. I quite frequently watch movies online and as I was skimming through the list of movies yesterday, after finishing the days work. I happen to stumble upon The Bucket List. So I thought might as well watch it and see if it’s really worth the praise heaped upon by my friend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Bucket List is about how two strangers, Edward Cole (Jack Nicholson) and Carter Chambers (Morgan Freeman) somewhere in their sixties, diagnosed with cancer and given a lease of six months to one year of time, ended up spending the best last time of their life together. Edward, an immensely successful businessman who had been doing nothing substantial in his life other than earning money from the age of sixteen and Carter, a regular black guy who had spent his entire life doing all that he could to provide for his family, happen to end up in the same room at a hospital. They then decide to make a list of things, called The Bucket List, which they would do before they died. The movie is about two people living their life to the fullest and doing all the things that they had always wanted to but had never been able to for some reason or another: like sky diving, seeing the world with their own eyes, kissing the most beautiful woman, driving a mustang, et cetra et cetra. The movie is an exquisite piece of work and is a complete must watch for all who appreciate those rare good movies that comes once in a while and goes on to touch our life in some way or another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere in the movie they say that a survey was once done in which people were asked whether they would want to know the time of their death and 96% of the people said that they wouldn’t. If we are to do a survey like that in reality I’m very sure that the results would be somewhere around that. Isn’t that amazing? Why is it that we are so afraid to find out the date and time of our death? Considering the fact that whatever which has a beginning has an end. It’s a common fact that all of us are aware of. After all we know that we are to die sometime then why is it difficult to carry on when we get to know the exactness of that time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe because we have this strange habit of either lingering in our past or thinking about our future, all the time. Perhaps once we get to know of the remaining time then we will fluster to an extent of squandering whatever time which is left worrying about death. It is so important to live in this precise moment; I realized it at that point. This actually made me think whether or not I have lived my life to the fullest. Whether or not I have said and done all the things that I had wanted to say and do. Have I actually told all the people I love that I love them? If I have, then why is it that I think twice about it now. I think I have done a wonderful job. At least I wouldn’t die some day wondering as to why I didn’t do it or they wouldn’t die someday speculating whether I loved them or not. It is so very very important to do all the things that one wants to do; as it’s never about a particular thing being right or not but only if it has been done rightly or not. Maybe it was wrong but at least I have this satisfaction of knowing it first rate as I have done it myself rather than hearsay. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Henceforth I have learnt it by rot that I will do all that I can to live my life to the fullest and do all the things that I want to do. Do I have a Bucket List of my own? Well, I sure am working on mine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-2453350626764157757?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/2453350626764157757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=2453350626764157757' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2453350626764157757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2453350626764157757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/02/bucket-list.html' title='The Bucket List'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801077645017373985.post-7197367342536183809</id><published>2008-02-22T13:18:00.007+05:30</published><updated>2008-02-27T18:50:33.683+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A startling revelation</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_OgBfuwkogNk/R77BH8ZIltI/AAAAAAAAANQ/Ad8lABeLMIM/s1600-h/Post+16_updated.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169781764482701010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_OgBfuwkogNk/R77BH8ZIltI/AAAAAAAAANQ/Ad8lABeLMIM/s320/Post+16_updated.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I read this article in newspaper today about how someone’s sleeping position tells us about the person. The article spoke about various positions in which a person sleeps namely Foetus, Log, Yearner, Soldier, Freefaller and Starfish. Majority of the people, to be precise 41%, fall under Foetus; which is a staggering percentage of the total sample size. Even more startling is the fact that more than twice as many women as men adopt this position. All other categories commanded 15% or less of the total sample size. The article went ahead to say that the people who come under the Foetus category are tough on the outside but sensitive at heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot of my friends have had a certain past associated with them. When I say past, I mean some incident which had happened at an early age: adolescence or maybe even before that. Anything that happens at this age leaves a mark on us and we grow up with a regret or maybe even resentment. In most cases the person in question creates a layer around herself/himself. Not to say that these people are good or bad but they have certain issues which grows along with them; with age and with time. These issues could be lack of confidence, lack of trust, inferiority complex and in bizarre cases it even leads to paranoia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember from my late school days about this best-est friend of mine whom I used to meet every day. Not that he is no more a friend of mine- we still are very close to each other but now live in different cities. He used to come to my place without absence and we would go out smoke and just sit somewhere and talk. I clearly recall every single day him telling me about his parent’s fights and arguments; what he felt about the same and the distaste that it created amongst the siblings. This is but a mild example of such cases. There are children that go through severe physical as well as emotional abuse; grow up with their parents’ fighting for divorce, with a lot of voluntary or involuntary social isolation; bad or neglected parenting and so on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As mentioned earlier these people form a thick layer around them and proceed with a lot of caution. This never happens consciously and in most cases it is at a very sub-conscious level. The reason, from what I can perceive, is the fear that people can see right through them. They have various guards around them reminding not to trust anyone. Many a time they want to trust people but instinctively they refrain from doing so and are reticent. The problem is that most of us try and sympathise with such people when told about their past. What we don’t understand is that they grow up dealing with their past all by themselves and the last thing that they need is someone’s sympathy. What they actually want from us, as a friend or as a partner, is to be that someone who could perhaps just listen to all that they have to say, give a hug and that’s about it; which is all that they seek and all that they want. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-7197367342536183809?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/7197367342536183809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=7197367342536183809' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/7197367342536183809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/7197367342536183809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/02/startling-revelation.html' title='A startling revelation'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_OgBfuwkogNk/R77BH8ZIltI/AAAAAAAAANQ/Ad8lABeLMIM/s72-c/Post+16_updated.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801077645017373985.post-2402224450251576550</id><published>2008-02-21T22:13:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2008-03-26T19:09:48.533+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Desire and the urge to own</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Very recently I came across a statement, “Only one venom poisons all people- the urge to own.” Is it really true that the urge to own acts like a poison between two people. From a certain perspective it does narrow down ones approach and leaves both the people to think from all but one angle. Thus we can say that it indeed kills desire, kills love, kills friendship and kills kinship. Even if it doesn’t kill, it does make things sour in a lot of cases after a certain point of time. Two people who are best of friends, one fine day become too aware of things between themselves; once they have an urge to claim ownership over one another. All of a sudden perspectives change and a sudden comfort level which used to exist vanishes somewhere with a thick haze hanging around both. It feels as though one needs to be suddenly aware of the things that are to be said and done. In a lot of cases one is found grappling with words initially and with the relationship later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abstinence sows sand all over&lt;br /&gt;The ruddy limbs and flaming hair,&lt;br /&gt;But Desire gratified&lt;br /&gt;Plants fruits of life and beauty there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If this is true then shouldn’t we take desire to be a rite of celebration which all should be savoring; rather than restricting it with a ritual of ownership. As once we restrict it, the desire is trapped between the walls of restriction and the bounds of fidelity. Now, that’s an interesting observation. If all that is said so far seems to be logically true then we can perhaps eliminate the concept of adultery and fornication, altogether. Voila, so we can rid the world of infidelity, in terms of physicality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How about cherishing desire as a celebration? Not ego, not control and certainly not proprietorship. Imagine…. Desiring without any claim of ownership; as once we gain ownership we might forfeit desire. Seems like a fulsome indulgence, however turgid it might sound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus said William Blake…&lt;br /&gt;What is it men in women to require?&lt;br /&gt;The lineaments of gratified desire.&lt;br /&gt;What is it women do in men require?&lt;br /&gt;The lineaments of gratified desire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only problem is that this indulgence though gratifying doesn’t offer any stability and beyond a certain age stability preponderates desire. Desire is very short lived and one gets over it after a certain point of time. Once we transgress over to the newer riper phase of our life we need emotional stability; which can’t thrive without fealty. Also there is no end to desiring as we can go on and on and on, till a point where it becomes sickening and unbearable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desire leads to the gratification of the body and never the soul. If we desire without bounds then perhaps love would become inversely proportional. The more we let desire overtake us the further away love would be. We need to love and be loved; or else we will never find contentment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This reminds me of a soliloquy from one of Shakespeare’s plays …&lt;br /&gt;Nought's had, all's spent,&lt;br /&gt;Where our desire is got without content:&lt;br /&gt;'Tis safer to be that which we destroy&lt;br /&gt;Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-2402224450251576550?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/2402224450251576550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=2402224450251576550' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2402224450251576550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2402224450251576550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/02/desire-and-urge-to-own.html' title='Desire and the urge to own'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-6985636960357595945</id><published>2008-02-18T10:38:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2008-02-18T18:34:54.215+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Evolution- Good or Bad</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It’s quite astonishing to see how the human race has evolved over the years. The realization came over me while reading a book where it was written that “we all dig up temples and mosques and dead people and dead ideas, and bring all the old trouble and mix it with the new trouble and make it all into bigger and bigger trouble.” This made me brood over the whole human-evolvement thing. The question is that whether we were better off then, without the advancement and the development that we have made over the years; or now, when we have in our possession the better of worst things. A lot of people will say that we are but of course better off now, in concord. But come to think of it I am not very sure that if it’s really true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is said that ignorance is bliss. If we turn the pages of history we see that a few decades back we had lesser complexities in our life. Since development has and always will be a step by step process, therefore a lot of dazzling gizmos couldn’t be seen at that time. We had made way less development for the society and the humankind in the yesteryears as compared to all that we have today. Technology was never as advanced as it is right now or as it will be in the time to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Various electrical equipments have made things a lot simple for us; television and newspaper keeps us up to date about divers happenings not only beyond our small world but also across the vast expanse of land on the entire planet; computers and robots have developed a brain of their own through Artificial Intelligence (AI); life saving drugs and surgeries have found miraculous cure for diseases which in themselves had been a mystery for doctors; and the list goes on. Every passing day scientists the world over come up with newer better inventions which makes simple things even more simple. So, is ignorance really bliss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Definitely not from this perspective; but with time we have also made destructive developments on the pretext of constructive ones. Development in military, for one, is a classic example for the same. With it we have unearthed a unique way of showing supremacy over weaker nations. The number of wars and conflicts has drastically gone up and it’s an ever-increasing number. Another example would be the emergence of life threatening diseases like Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome (AIDS) which was transferred to the human race through Chimpanzee’s- curiosity, they say is the mother of invention…. And so we invented a completely new problem for us. Then again this list, just like the previous one, is also quite long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the quest of unlocking the wisdom of our mind we seem to have opened Pandora’s Box. The neatness in our life disintegrating bit by bit as we vanish into a world of endlessly opening doors, teasing riddles and lives without boundaries.&lt;br /&gt;  The truth is that the wisest men are those who knows the limits of their wisdom. We definitely are wise but do we know the limit of our wisdom; now that’s a thought worth pondering over.   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-6985636960357595945?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/6985636960357595945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=6985636960357595945' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/6985636960357595945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/6985636960357595945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/02/evolution-good-or-bad.html' title='Evolution- Good or Bad'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-2325327039068155814</id><published>2008-02-09T13:21:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-02-09T13:39:47.480+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The choices that we make</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Choice, isn’t it the biggest dilemma of humankind. When we don’t have an option of choosing we whine and we have one we are terribly confused. Frankly speaking all of us would be a lot happier without it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Irrespective of all said and done, we do have to choose when we are at a crossroad. As Shakespeare had rightly put in Hamlet, “To be or not to be: that is the question.” So we choose in the state of bewilderment as to what’s right and what’s not. Lost in introspection and rationalization; the human mind trying to work out the best for us. Dreadfully we choose one which we think is the most appropriate, as per the situation. Technically speaking, that is something we want to believe but as per various researches the human mind works in a completely different fashion. The choices that we make are never based on what is right but is rather based on what we want. So what we actually do is that we convince ourselves into believing that that is the right thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nevertheless, we choose and in most cases we stick to our decision. What is to happen when one day you realize that the choice that you made is not right. Well maybe it was not the choice which was wrong but it’s the result which is not so pleasing. Then in that case we ask the usual question, why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My Soul.&lt;/em&gt; I summon to the winding ancient stair;&lt;br /&gt;Set all your mind upon the steep ascent . . .&lt;br /&gt;Fix every wandering thought upon&lt;br /&gt;That quarter where all thought is done:&lt;br /&gt;Who can distinguish darkness from the soul?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get my answer in a jiffy. Never had I once asked this question as long as things were working out. Everything seemed to be fine and I was enjoying every moment I was being subjected to. Then, to me, my choice was not wrong as the results were pleasing. I perhaps had the best time of my life at some instances. So, it’s all about good times and bad times. I don’t know if the choice that I made was right or wrong; the truth is that it really doesn’t matter. What matters is that I have had some good times which I will cherish for the rest of my life and also some bad ones which I’m sure will be a valuable lesson learnt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Myself.&lt;/em&gt; What matter if I live it all once more?&lt;br /&gt;. . . And what's the good of an escape&lt;br /&gt;If honour find him in the wintry blast?&lt;br /&gt;I am content to live it all again&lt;br /&gt;And yet again. . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Albert Einstein had very rightly said, "Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one." All of us love the ignis fatuus, as long as it makes us happy. Then how does it matter if what we want is a part of reality or an illusion.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-2325327039068155814?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/2325327039068155814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=2325327039068155814' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2325327039068155814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2325327039068155814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/02/choices-that-we-make.html' title='The choices that we make'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-6606926202407556686</id><published>2008-02-04T15:54:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-02-07T19:04:15.317+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Nationalism to Regionalism</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nationalism - Devotion to the interests or culture of one's nation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The British presence in India began in Elizabeth’s time with a few trading centers at Madras (now Chennai), Bombay (now Mumbai) and Calcutta (now Kolkata). A multiplicity of motives underlay the penetration: commerce, security and a purported moral uplift of the people. The annexation of territories in India began in the eighteenth century with the French deciding to challenge the pre-eminence of The British East India Company by inciting some of the states of Mogul Empire to attack the British; thus leading to an emergence of the Empire in India. The British, who were more or less welcome in the country at the time, hardly faced any resistance from Indians until the Mutiny of 1857. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A century of accumulated grievances erupted in the Indian mutiny of sepoys in the British army, in 1857. This was the signal for a spontaneous conflagration, in which the princely rulers, landed aristocarcy and peasantry rallied against the British around the person of the last Mughal emperor, Bahadur Shah. The uprising, however, was brutally suppressed and by the end of 1859 with the deportation of the last Mughal emperor to Burma, where he died a lonely death, the Mughal rule in India came to a formal end. The British Raj by that time had spread its tentacles majorly over the country and it was becoming exceedingly difficult for a small handful of foreigners to administer such a vast country. They therefore created local elite to help them in their task; to this end they set up a system of education with the intellectual and the social values of the west.  Ideas of democracy, individual freedom and equality were the antithesis of the empire, which led to the genesis of the freedom movement among thinkers with the leadership of the movement passing into the hands of the very same crystallized elite; thereby paving way for the formation of the Indian National Congress in 1885. Slowly and steadily the movement started to grow and the entire nation united for a single cause to be. On 15 August 1947 India eventually got its freedom and was declared as an independent secular nation; the wonders of nationalism working towards the right of ones own freedom in ones country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Regionalism - Loyalty to the interests of a particular region.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;India is a federal state with a parliamentary form of government. By federal state we mean that all the states within the country are conjoined under a federal union and a federal union believes that democracy and the rule of law should apply between states as well as within them. In brief, this is the political system of our country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The saddest part is that the very same country which had once united for a common benefit now stands divided for an individual one. In Assam we shout slogans to oust the migrated labours from West Bengal and Bihar. In Delhi we talk about the collapse of the infrastructure due to people coming in from Bihar and Uttar Pradesh. In Mumbai we stage violent demonstrations against the constant flux of people moving in from Uttar Pradesh. The best is yet to come in the form of our politicians who are the major cause for this rot. All in all we are looking at a ubiquitous political system, run by a set of people who think against the very same principles which governs the system run by them. That’s the irony of a nation which has switched to regionalism from nationalism, in a mere 60 years of independence. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It pains me to see what we have actually become, starting from what we had once set out to be six decades back. I am hoping that there would be a day when we would once again think, from a common platform, about issues which concern the nation as a whole rather than sulking over individual benefits.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-6606926202407556686?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/6606926202407556686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=6606926202407556686' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/6606926202407556686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/6606926202407556686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/02/nationalism-to-regionalism.html' title='Nationalism to Regionalism'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-7940281170319858883</id><published>2008-02-03T19:42:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-02-04T16:56:38.962+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Picture Perfect</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Most of us live out of the story books that we read and the pictures that we see. Different people have different influences in their life. Some are inspired by action, the adrenalin rush; some by the serious issues that plague the society that we live in and there are some that live in a completely different world, a dream world made of sweet little things that could perhaps only be read or seen in a movie. Yet we dream and very much long for these wonderful things to happen to us; hoping that there would perhaps be a day when this dream would become a reality. We usually prefer keeping to ourselves when it comes to this not so important dream world of ours; perhaps taking into account the seriousness of various other important issues around us. Well, I don’t know about billions of people around me but I sure can vouch for this dream world of mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have had strings of sour relationships that I have given a hint about in my past few posts. So as they say that every cloud has a silver lining; I have frantically searched for that silver lining in all these heart wrenching breakups of mine…. And what’s the silver lining that Mr. Wise Guy found for himself. Amongst a host of other things, one thing that I have realized is that I or rather we don’t need the company of someone, especially someone from the opposite sex, to be complete. This has been printed over and over again in my head with acute self-realization and also because of helpful discussions with similar friends in more or less similar situation. So I reiterate this to me every day and every time there’s a steamy discussion about relationships, I try and maintain the status quo. But to my dismay, every time I come across one of those amazingly romantic movies on television or a similar book, I feel as if I am back to square one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s a Sunday today, a day when I prefer getting up late as there is no clichéd life waiting for me- Apropos, which I simply abhor. So what are you supposed to do on a Sunday? Well if it’s me, then on Sunday’s I get up late as I mentioned earlier, have a cup of tea with a serious round of newspaper reading- an everyday habit by now. Then it’s the usual like breakfast and a bit of bumming around in the house. Now, after that comes the real Sunday for me, which is lazing around in my pajamas all day long either watching a movie or reading a book or doing both alternately or maybe just maybe if something ironical happens then doing some other stuff, other than the two mentioned above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched one of those amazingly romantic movies on television today, the one that has probably been shown like a gazillion times maybe, called “You’ve Got Mail”. A nice romantic movie which is about two people, a guy and a girl, who virtually hate each other because of business rivalry finally ending up loving one another. Bam, there it hits me again as I watch this movie. Boy isn’t it the same old feeling? The feeling of once again wanting to fall in love with someone. Someone who could perhaps understand me and all my small/big problems. Someone who could be there for me and just hold my hands and look at me with a lot of love. Not for the sake of solving my problems or for the sake of helping me out but for the sake of simply being there for me and listening to all that I have to say and all that I have to share- Of course the same being true vice versa also. People often tell me that one should never show ones true feelings to anyone and rather be diplomatic about such things. I wonder if I should actually be doing that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I once had a dream. In this dream I saw one perfect spring morning. It was a bright sunny day with trees blooming and an open field with lovely yellow dandelions, spread over a vast area. There was a placid blue lake with water glistering under the sun. I was there with this perfect girl who was sitting with my head in her lap and her beautiful long hair on my face. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like hell I should be hiding my feelings. I know this perfect girl, the girl in my dream, is waiting for me somewhere out there. So, I guess it’s just a matter of time before I find my picture perfect, in reality. Till then I guess I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed and waiting for her to come into my life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-7940281170319858883?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/7940281170319858883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=7940281170319858883' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/7940281170319858883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/7940281170319858883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/02/picture-perfect.html' title='The Picture Perfect'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-3583864335170375237</id><published>2008-01-30T15:35:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-01-30T21:57:36.104+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Trust</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Cuts, scars, bruises, lies and fake laughs.&lt;br /&gt;Fake smiles, constant cries and a horrifying past.&lt;br /&gt;Promises broken, lost loves…&lt;br /&gt;and the “trust me” that didn’t last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what is this entire hubbub about Trust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I, as an individual, have definitely not been judicious and undoubtedly not Spartan so far, to say the least- the later one almost being a quest by now. Life, for me, has been a constant string of sour decisions with rancid results. If not for a lot of optimism, I would have given up on my future looking at my not so glorious past. Nonetheless, one thing that I have always been particular about, for some strange reason, is trust. Then again I am compelled to say, that like all other things, I hadn’t been heedful when it came to trust, especially with others trust in me; almost never to circumspect at the right time. Time then for the biggest question, “Why bother about it so much?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People, I have come to believe, are made of forces- internal as well as external. All that we do is a mélange, a potpourri of these forces. Actions influenced by external forces and behavioural pattern related to it marked by internal forces. I know that I have this dark side of me marked by a fiend, which tells me to simply walk away from all the shit and not bother. Not to mention, how debilitating these situations are. There have been times when I have thought to myself that the best thing to do is to perhaps light a cigarette and simply walk away. At times, I do marvel at the thoughts of so easily moving away from situations like these; how the human mind comes up with such wonderful ideas, surprises me for sure. However, something inside stops me from doing so. So, what is it that stops me from doing so; considering the fact that in most of these situations, I have nothing to gain and nothing left to loose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do believe in Karma and perhaps it’s my destiny, which makes me stick around or maybe it’s some goodness inside which compels me to say sorry. Whatever it is, but trust, for some reason has been of utmost importance to me, even in hopeless cases.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Luke 6:37 "Do not judge, and you will not be judged; and do not condemn, and you will not be condemned; pardon, and you will be pardoned.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so, I have stopped judging, stopped condemning and I try to pardon as much as I can; hoping rather believing that I will be pardoned for my mistakes and my misjudgment. Amen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-3583864335170375237?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/3583864335170375237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=3583864335170375237' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/3583864335170375237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/3583864335170375237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/01/trust.html' title='Trust'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801077645017373985.post-203210876604483582</id><published>2008-01-26T16:10:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-01-30T16:42:44.441+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Kite Runner- Main character vis-a-vis our character</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 115%;font-size:12;" &gt;Working its way in Afghanistan from the heydays of peace and prosperity to a country plagued by devastation and destruction, The Kite Runner is a book that takes us through an enthralling journey of two young Afghani Muslim boys who grow up together. The book is the first one by famed author Khalid Hosseini, who keeps his readers spellbound by the touch of hardcore reality in a country marred by two decades of war; exquisitely describing the nuances of a relationship between a couple of young boys. &lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 115%;font-size:12;" &gt;Amir, son of an affluent businessman grows up with Hassan, son of Amir’s father’s servant Ali, from the Hazara community, a supposedly shunned ethnic Muslim minority, in the Arab world. Being raised in the same household and sharing the same wet nurse they grow up together yet in a completely different way. Amir’s life takes a new turn when he, like a coward, watches Hassan being sodomized in an alley for his loyalty, towards Amir. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 115%;font-size:12;" &gt;The book takes us through a journey of guilt in Amir’s life, for not defending Hassan when he should have and Amir’s father’s life, for not being able to amply provide for his illegitimate son Hassan, at the same time hiding the truth from both his sons. The Kite Runner is a story about friendship, brotherhood, loyalty and betrayal. It is about the bonds between fathers and sons and a boy’s fight against himself- A coward boy marred by his guilty conscience. A boy who never stood up for himself growing up to become a man could not stand up to anything. But towards the end, the author gives us hope, with cowardice finally giving way to redemption. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 115%;font-size:12;" &gt;Drifting away, the story shifts my focus to one of our very own. It reminds me of the recent elections in Gujarat where a tyrant like Narendra Modi was once again restored to power with a thumping majority. It reminds me of our inability to once again stand up for our own rights, towards oneself and towards humanity. On the 26&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; day of January in 1950 the constitution of India was adopted thereby marking a transition of the country from a British Dominion to a republic. A republic is a state or a country that is not led by hereditary monarch, where the people of that state or country (or at least a part of that people) have impact on its government. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 115%;font-size:12;" &gt;Every year on the 26&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; of January we Indians celebrate our Republic Day to commemorate the adoption of our constitution. But today, on this 26&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; day of January in 2008, it saddens me to say the least that we failed to do justice to that very constitution. We watched the massacre in Gujarat like a mute spectator then and we watched the man behind the very same genocide come to power now. It seems as though we truly have become an ignoble, uncourageous person completely incorrigible- A poltroon without any conscience… A stigma of decay, for all to see. We are like that very same boy who never stood up for himself, today grown up to become a man not capable of standing up to anything. I wonder when our redemption will come as we don’t seem to mind our inhibitions anymore; god knows we are so used to them now. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-203210876604483582?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/203210876604483582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=203210876604483582' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/203210876604483582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/203210876604483582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/01/kite-runner-main-character-vis-vis-our.html' title='The Kite Runner- Main character vis-a-vis our character'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801077645017373985.post-2420220309135402345</id><published>2008-01-24T22:54:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-01-25T10:50:06.516+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Silence</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ever felt a sudden silence; a feeling when everything around comes to a standstill. Cars and bikes with their horns blaring; people chatting, moving around; music and all hustle bustle suddenly dying down and nothing but silence is left. One could certainly feel the movement but not hear anything; as if being pushed into some kind of vacuum. The time stops followed by a deadening silence which slowly starts creeping down ones body and encapsulates the soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;You look around to see if you can find someone; someone that you can relate to, someone that you can talk to. How can there not be a single person amongst a crowd of millions? How about friends? Some are lost forever and the others can’t be reached at that point. How about family? Not around. Strangely, not a single familiar face with a melee around. You feel like crying with tears welled in your eyes but not flowing; something inside stopping the outburst. You want to talk to someone- No, you can’t talk to anyone. You want someone to understand what you feel- No, there is no one who could do so. All so quiet, all so still, all so lonely like being castaway to a distant land. Everything stops and it feels as if you are standing all alone looking at everything yet nothing. It’s a moment of complete aloofness from the whole world. There is this cold feeling that surges inside like a shining blade, like steel piercing deep down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Then again everything comes back to normal; the traffic, the people, the music all of them. That is when I realise, that it was one of those spasms, a bout of pain which takes the mind through an eerie silence. Zendagi migzara, after which. Life goes on. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-2420220309135402345?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/2420220309135402345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=2420220309135402345' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2420220309135402345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2420220309135402345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/01/ever-felt-sudden-silence-feeling-when.html' title='Silence'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-2449800826255490565</id><published>2008-01-21T15:50:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-01-22T13:02:43.398+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Ode to thee- One that i admire</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;I remember being in love for the first time in my late teens. It was indeed terrific; something I had never felt before. To me it was like a trance, a stupor which was so transcendental that I was in complete oblivion; living every moment of my life. The anomaly not lasting for a very long time and I had my first heartbreak after a few years. The dreams and the ardent feelings fading away and vanishing with time, as life moved on. All but this one feeling which strangely remained- The feeling of being in love. For some odd reason I always felt as if I was in love; though I could never perceive who I was in love with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shifted bases and cities moved in and out of my life, just like girls. I tried falling in love again but somehow I could never work out the intricacies of the initial phase. Women came into my life and either left with a huff or just saw through me, exactly as I had started seeing through them. I shifted my focus on to other important aspects of my life; and just as I was about to forget this whole issue, I met a wonderful girl. She isn’t very beautiful and certainly not the kind of woman that I had longed for- immensely charming though. She is the only person, by far, who broke my confidence every time, with a single stroke and with all the things that I had thought, to have mastered- which for some strange reason pleased me a hell lot. She has this great sense of individuality, which is quite a lot appealing. She knows what she wants and god she has all the guts in the world to stand up for it and get it. Now that is exactly what I call a woman of substance. The grit, the determination and the spirit is definitely worth a praise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We speak of words like freedom, equality and liberation for women; the fact is that I see them being used as nothing but a punch line to impress others. When it comes to us, we would rather prefer a stereotype girl who would do anything to satisfy our whims. Do we really need such women in our society? Now that’s a question which if asked from men, on anonymity, will mostly get no as an answer. The truth is that we enjoy the domination which we have had for years. We men are so used to being a chauvinist that we have a penchant for it and are not at all ready to give it up this easy. We want things to be exactly the way they had been all this while, so that we could enjoy this so called supremacy. Well, certainly not for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;I would like to be with a girl who is as good as I am or perhaps even better than me; so that she could be a source of my strength and inspiration. So that I could take pride in the fact that I have walked with her in life but rather not ahead of her. I admire her for her courage to stand out and love her for her individuality. It has been a pleasure knowing her and always will be. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-2449800826255490565?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/2449800826255490565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=2449800826255490565' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2449800826255490565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2449800826255490565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2008/01/ode-to-thee-one-that-i-admire.html' title='Ode to thee- One that i admire'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801077645017373985.post-2319607364003553142</id><published>2007-12-12T20:33:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-12-12T20:38:54.799+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Kochah</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;While browsing through various social causes on a community site, I came across one called “Kochah”. Kochah is one of the many projects by Farhad Darya; a US based singer and composer, born and brought up in Afghanistan. The project has been launched with an intention to draw the society as well as the governments’ attention, towards orphans and working street children of Afghanistan; who have always suffered. The objective is to reshape the destiny of vulnerable children of Afghanistan, especially the street and under age working ones; who have been a constant victim of more than two decades of war, social and cultural strife in Afghanistan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most noticeable thing about this cause is the picture used by its creator, which is of a young Afghani Muslim boy. The boy seems to be crying with his right hand pointing at someone, mouth open as if he is bawling, eyes red with tears and his soul deeply wounded; surrounded by a horde of people standing helplessly behind him. What deeply touched me about this picture is the child’s eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eyes, I have always felt, narrate a story of their own. They have this unique ability to speak about what one is feeling. The intensity might be visible initially and ephemerally; the overall story still being obstinately exhibited. We might be melancholy, jubilant, irate, gloomy or even ecstatic at times; all being evident by close observation of ones eyes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I could indeed sense a lot of sorrow and also despair in those eyes; which for that particular moment made me think what we have become. How ferociously brutal have we become, with the advancement of technology; which ideally should have been used for the protection as well as development of mankind; is worth pondering over. We need to reevaluate ourselves and actually empathise with these children; it’s perhaps then that we might understand the consequences of our wrong-doings. They not only loose their family or their house but also their youth, because of a war; and adolescence, I believe, is a beautiful phase of every individual’s life; once lost then nothing but a forlorn look is to be found. We need to restore the blissfulness in those eyes or else…. all is lost. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-2319607364003553142?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/2319607364003553142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=2319607364003553142' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2319607364003553142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/2319607364003553142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2007/12/kochah.html' title='Kochah'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6801077645017373985.post-483308843822037288</id><published>2007-12-11T11:52:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-12-11T12:01:02.079+05:30</updated><title type='text'>In search of an answer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Loneliness is a strange feeling. There are times when one might have all the material things at ones disposal and still might not be happy. There is this one thing missing which for some odd reason is of acute importance; and at that particular time perhaps the only possible solution for ones problem. Ever imagined why we need someone in our life to make us feel better. Why couldn’t we be self-sufficient and not need anyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is extremely painful to get up every morning pretending in front of others and the mirror that one is absolutely fine. Going off to work smiling when all one wants to do is perhaps be in a pensive mood and not laugh at our boss’s fatuous joke or a colleagues frivolous gossip. Coming back home, hoping that one could get some rest; while all one gets is a horribly long night sans sleep. Life at that particular time becomes a strenuous exercise; not worth performing. Why are we foolish enough to think about a particular person’s well being when the person in question is hardly interested? Why do we even bother to care when the other person thinks that it’s smothering her? Why can’t we just forget about it, live our own life and not bother? Is it really tough to do so? Yes, initially it is, but there comes a time when this whole ordeal becomes excruciatingly arduous. When it becomes unbearably difficult to carry on and we get so fed up with the situation that all we want to do is snap out, somehow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the precise moment when we need to put our foot down and crush this feeling inside. Kill it somehow and stop it from flourishing any further. Do we need a cold heart to do so? Yes we do. Do we need to be inexorable? Yes we do. Do we need to be emotionally unresponsive? Yes we do…. And so we shall; and so we will. There is more to life than just a relationship.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-483308843822037288?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/483308843822037288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=483308843822037288' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/483308843822037288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/483308843822037288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2007/12/in-search-of-answer.html' title='In search of an answer'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-7298006826379270537</id><published>2007-12-06T16:19:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-12-14T13:11:09.061+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Love, is like magic. But magic is... just an illusion</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Why is it so difficult for people to fall in love? Almost everyone, from a child to an adult has a ready definition of love; none digressing too far from one another. If I were to be asked about love, I would perhaps, enumerate thousand wonderful words in the praise of it. Well, there isn’t anyone who would forthrightly deny all the beautiful things said about this strong feeling. Yet, come to think of it, people find it extremely difficult to fall in love. Even if we do, then after a while it’s almost impossible to take the relationship forward. Of course there are quite some lucky souls amongst us who fall in love; and fortunately end up with that very person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever we think that we might want to fall in love, we, the so-called “homo sapiens” try and rationalise. We want to speculate the current gains and the future losses that might arise from the relationship. I wouldn’t say that being rationale is not good; but to the last thread of it, wherein there is practically no scope for trial; this truly does amaze me. One thing that we perhaps do not realise is that we as an individual are extremely short-sighted; irrespective of us being endowed with greater brain power, as compared to our predecessors. All our assumptions are based on our past happenings or at the max on the things that we hear from people around us. We always ask others what they can give; but never do we try and think what we can give in return for so many things that we want. Compromise is another big question. “Why the hell should I compromise on the things that I want to do.” Never really thinking; that perhaps the other person might also be compromising on a lot of things to make me happy. Compatibility is something that we so rightly want and that too from ‘our’ perspective. The best part is that whenever we come across someone who thinks alike, we are the first to point out that, “Man, you only think about yourself.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phew, so much of analysis; and yet we can’t understand that all it takes, is to follow our intuition. We simply need to lower our guards and for one instance get into the flow of things. Yes, we might fall and get hurt in the process; but if we do succeed then there’s nothing like it. We need to believe that some things are meant to happen even if they appear seemingly pointless. But this I guess, is too much to ask for; because sorry to say, we do not work so. Loving someone is definitely not the most important criteria as there are other things that have to be thought about, which are momentous and of grave importance. So what if there is a lot of reason that the other person can see. Well, I don’t see any compatibility; and that’s all that matters because I think rationally. I have analysed everything and I think that there is no scope for us; so what’s the point in trying. On the other hand, the fool all so smitten perennially tries to show how much he loves; fighting a loosing battle.&lt;br /&gt;Ah! Alas, he has lost; it’s the win of head over heart and all he can say is…&lt;br /&gt;“If music be the food of love, play on,&lt;br /&gt;Give me excess of it; that surfeiting,&lt;br /&gt;The appetite may sicken, and so die.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-7298006826379270537?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/7298006826379270537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=7298006826379270537' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/7298006826379270537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/7298006826379270537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2007/12/love-is-like-magic-but-magic-is-just.html' title='Love, is like magic. But magic is... just an illusion'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-7098847658149771533</id><published>2007-12-01T14:17:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-12-01T14:21:49.791+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Her that I love, I wish to be free - even from me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"I hold it true, whate'er befall;&lt;br /&gt;I feel it, when I sorrow most;&lt;br /&gt;'Tis better to have loved and lost&lt;br /&gt;Than never to have loved at all."&lt;br /&gt;It is the feeling of love that Tennyson so fondly talks about in the paragraph from his poem “In Memoriam”; the feeling of endless joy and immense sorrow, both being juxtaposed. Love, the biggest paradox to have ever existed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of us have been in love at some point of time in our life; and god, isn’t it wonderful. You know you are in love when you can very minutely separate the beautiful colours from the thread of life. Get up every morning brimming with exuberance; thinking how to make the most of day or rather every moment in one’s life. It feels as though the clock has stopped ticking and one could indeed analyse the beauty in all of nature’s offerings, at ease. The voice inside telling us to see how beautiful a day is, so forget about tomorrow – carpe diem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love to me, means giving incessantly; and so I have done whenever I’ve loved. I couldn’t help but give in to this strong and overwhelming emotion, every time. But time and again I have been made to feel, made to realise that is it actually worth it. People asking, “are non-ending tears worth all the smiles and laughter in the past?”; friends saying things like, “is it really worth all that one has to go through?” I have always believed so; and god knows I had reason to do so. Reason which has become quite apparent with time; and with acute self-analysation. It’s nothing but my weakness inside….God, that anemic feeling, which I so fucking hate. I hate it because I don’t see anyone who is worth putting in so much of effort for; anyone who is worth this affection and any god damn person who really deserves it. We as an individual are meant to handle everything all by ourselves; be diplomatic about everything and think, like a fox. Think cunningly and measure every step that we take. Life, sadly has taught me that emotions make people weak. I have felt a “snap” inside of me; a certain point which tells me that it’s time to let go. Time to move forward, not look back and just fuck-it; maybe it was meant to be so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is time to set free, the person I am so madly in love with. I do feel elevated but I also feel sorry for the cause that I had believed in. God only knows how much I had loved that person and I couldn’t help but set her free; as this is what she wanted and how can I not give her what she wants. Like all my loved ones she is mine now, forever. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-7098847658149771533?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/7098847658149771533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=7098847658149771533' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/7098847658149771533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/7098847658149771533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2007/12/her-that-i-love-i-wish-to-be-free-even.html' title='Her that I love, I wish to be free - even from me'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-5755075902783750667</id><published>2007-11-27T15:20:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-02-11T17:17:40.391+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Mumbai  - The city of Dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Like Delhi, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Mumbai&lt;/span&gt; is another place that I have visited on and off for various activities. But unlike Delhi, I have had some cherished moments and some disastrous ones at this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;bindaas&lt;/span&gt; place. Moments which have quite often made me speculate whether I would want to live here for sometime and get into the rat race; the so called struggle for survival.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weirdest thing which I have always felt at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Mumbai&lt;/span&gt; is that one could sense, that the city itself breathes. There is so much life and certainly so much exuberance that one &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;couldn&lt;/span&gt;’t help but think that this place has to have something. For almost an year I had been thinking about this whole idea of moving to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Mumbai&lt;/span&gt;; getting out into the open far far away from my comfortable and cozy three bedroom flat in Delhi. The idea of starting off all over again at a new place has almost always excited me; but at the same time there's also a risk of this drastic step being completely disastrous. So many thoughts popping into my head all at the same time; completely new set of people, new localities, lots of risks, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;et&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;cetera&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;et&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;cetera&lt;/span&gt;….Hell, we get just one shot at taking a plunge and when we don’t we keep wondering our whole god-damn life as to why we &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;’t do it when we had the chance. So here I am with all my bags packed and a months leave on me, to find a job in the city of dreams. Hoping, that I might get to relive my dreams; the ones that I have certainly foreseen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did manage to get a job in the first few days itself; and a great one indeed. Also, not to forget the various activities that I had indulged into, like roamed the plush streets of town; sat at the tumultuous &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Café&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Mondegar&lt;/span&gt;, with various cartoons on the wall narrating a tale of their own; listened to some great music at Toto’s Garage, with pals; walked down the beautiful promenade at Bandstand; traveled in the bustling local train, with profusely sweating people and yet I believe that there is more to come. I have been in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Mumbai&lt;/span&gt; for over a month now and to be honest I feel that I haven’t seen a fraction of what the place is actually about. Right now, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;couldn&lt;/span&gt;’t help but remember a paragraph from this poem I had once read – &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;“The woods are lovely, dark and deep, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;But I have promises to keep, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;And miles to go before I sleep, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;And miles to go before I sleep” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So here I am moving on and at the same time waiting for more to come at this unprecedented place called &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Mumbai&lt;/span&gt; – The City of Dreams. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-5755075902783750667?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/5755075902783750667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=5755075902783750667' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/5755075902783750667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/5755075902783750667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2007/11/mumbai-city-of-dreams.html' title='Mumbai  - The city of Dreams'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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-6801077645017373985.post-5637701902815363448</id><published>2007-11-01T23:09:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-12-24T12:16:11.658+05:30</updated><title type='text'>How tedious is a guilty conscience!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;All of us have a certain Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde inside us. We live with these two sides, which are like two faces of a coin; one thriving on the existence of another. Come to think of it perhaps our bad deeds, in a way, make us a good man. There are times when we take sinful pleasure in our devilish act, which for that particular moment gives us an endless feeling of joy; leading to a strong sense of guilt that brews inside. It is this feeling of guilt that makes us think the other way round for a split-second; and that's when we realise that we should perhaps be repenting by doing some good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of us start our life in a very sane way, weighing every action of ours and thinking about the rights and wrongs. We feel proud doing so and somewhere deep down inside believe that all this good that I am doing will open doors for more good things to come into my life. We wake up from our slumber one beautiful morning to find ourselves stranded in the middle of nowhere, with a feeling of remorse inside. The question that confronts us at that particular time is why, why me? Of all the people in the world, why me? I was so god damn right, I was so goddamn true to myself and everything was happening the way it should have been happening. What about all the faith one had…. Faith in me, faith in us and most of all faith in god. One strong current and all is lost. It’s then that we realise how fast we had been running; and how in the heat of it we had completely forgotten to look back and see where the rest of the world was. We look around to see that all is lost somewhere way behind; feels like holding a handful of sand. One moment my hands were full the second there's nothing. Now comes a phase when we form a shell around us and promise to not move out of it and come what may we will not let anybody get close to us. We protect ourselves more than anything; like a wounded rabbit hiding inside its burrow, afraid of coming out. We say that enough of giving let’s start taking for a change. Let us take what we can and move on in life; trying to justify all our wrong-doings by our skepticism; convincing oneself that not long ago something like that has happened to me, so why not do the same and see what it feels like. The devil inside working at its best, making us believe that all our actions are consequential; completely based on what has happened to us in the past. We think so perhaps because somewhere inside we desperately want to avenge all that has happened to us. Marching ahead; breaking rules, breaking hearts and breaking people. People who really care; who perhaps want nothing but our happiness. We keep over-looking, turning corners and at the same time moving forward. Then something comes back to us from the past, which makes us think for a while and stop our so-called progress towards ones own destruction. We again turn around to gage what’s happenings in our life and we see that its deja vu....God, aren't we there at the same point thinking about the same why, but with a different perspective this time. Now this time round its why did I do something as stupid; and the best part is that life as usual doesn't give you a second chance at turning things around. It is a strong sense of guilt that develops inside of us then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This feeling of guilt becomes our skin over our naked body, which we can’t take off; like an inherent part of the whole system. We keep living; thinking that there would be a day when we would get to repent for what we have done and would perhaps get to apologise for one's wrongdoings, but life as usual never gives a second chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At times I meet people who tell me to forget about the past and look towards the future to come. I wonder then why is it that I am not able to forget something which had happened way back in time? I remember reading somewhere that the life of a Libran comprises of balancing his good deeds over his bad ones. Is that why I try to strike a perfect balance between the good and the bad or is it just another myth that I believe in. The answer to yet another simple but important question evades me, as usual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6801077645017373985-5637701902815363448?l=tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/feeds/5637701902815363448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6801077645017373985&amp;postID=5637701902815363448' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/5637701902815363448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6801077645017373985/posts/default/5637701902815363448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tashfeenkhan.blogspot.com/2007/11/how-tedious-is-guilty-conscience.html' title='How tedious is a guilty conscience!'/><author><name>Taz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11011612725218341377</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></feed>
