<?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-21991499</id><updated>2011-12-15T03:09:47.792-05:00</updated><category term='whodunit...'/><category term='Tortoise n Hare'/><category term='me..'/><category term='me'/><category term='poem'/><category term='she'/><category term='the story'/><category term='death bed'/><category term='timepass'/><category term='shayari'/><category term='song'/><category term='bollywood'/><category term='music'/><category term='story time'/><category term='Romantic'/><category term='general'/><category term='nostalgic'/><category term='another short story'/><category term='I.N.D.I.A.N pie series'/><category term='life'/><category term='oscars'/><category term='my creations'/><category term='crap'/><category term='cricket....'/><category term='250th post'/><category term='AID-India'/><category term='train 9211'/><category term='tag zone'/><category term='speedzone'/><category term='tidbits'/><category term='fiction'/><category term='friend'/><category term='India'/><title type='text'>Brute's Column!</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>270</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-6953957398693053997</id><published>2011-12-15T03:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-15T03:09:47.801-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shayari'/><title type='text'>Khaash...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-22V9yHjr9DQ/Tumoyb93CfI/AAAAAAAAD5c/8vfOZDbcXPk/s1600/836243919_orig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-22V9yHjr9DQ/Tumoyb93CfI/AAAAAAAAD5c/8vfOZDbcXPk/s320/836243919_orig.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;Khaash tu idar hoti&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;mast hota mausam,&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;baiman hota sara jahan...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-6953957398693053997?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/6953957398693053997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2011/12/khaash.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/6953957398693053997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/6953957398693053997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2011/12/khaash.html' title='Khaash...'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-22V9yHjr9DQ/Tumoyb93CfI/AAAAAAAAD5c/8vfOZDbcXPk/s72-c/836243919_orig.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-1084992985526069702</id><published>2011-03-16T14:53:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-16T14:57:13.925-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='timepass'/><title type='text'>I hate "these" gals</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-NNKHLNzs9Xs/TYEGwnrK4rI/AAAAAAAADyc/92AQNVmkJh8/s1600/facebook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-NNKHLNzs9Xs/TYEGwnrK4rI/AAAAAAAADyc/92AQNVmkJh8/s320/facebook.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Everyday when I log into facebook, most of the updates I see are the new photos uploaded by gals. Of course boys also do, but the number of photos uploaded is surpassed by gals. Oh Lord! tell these gals that they are not Miss World or Miss Universe and spare us from seeing those idiotic photos. There are always these jobless asses who go comment and click 'like' button to ugliest photos. There is always a limit for everything. I don't&amp;nbsp;mind if a really gorgeous looking gal updates her profile pic, I will stare that pic all day long and show it to my fella profile stalking idiots. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;And those status messages, good Lord! there are the most irritating in the world. Especially, those folks who land in the UK, US countries and post next day on their walls,&amp;nbsp;"Oh my God (Gosh! or whatever) it is&amp;nbsp;0 degree C here"; There are always those outdated mahajans who post the videos or articles which are known to everyone and have become history. Finally, the ones who aren't creative do some googling and post those poetic&amp;nbsp; and philosophical nonsense&amp;nbsp;lines. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;But then, after venting out my frustration now I&amp;nbsp;realise that these are the people who give me chance to laugh at them daily ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-1084992985526069702?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/1084992985526069702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2011/03/oh-lord-bless-us-poor-souls.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1084992985526069702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1084992985526069702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2011/03/oh-lord-bless-us-poor-souls.html' title='I hate &quot;these&quot; gals'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-NNKHLNzs9Xs/TYEGwnrK4rI/AAAAAAAADyc/92AQNVmkJh8/s72-c/facebook.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-4544901970402729560</id><published>2011-03-15T13:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-15T13:48:19.995-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cricket....'/><title type='text'>Random updates</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-TQxsi5YG3b8/TX-mFbOSdPI/AAAAAAAADyY/g-LG9ZNX9pA/s1600/Sachin+Tendulkar+World+Cup+2011+comment1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="292" q6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-TQxsi5YG3b8/TX-mFbOSdPI/AAAAAAAADyY/g-LG9ZNX9pA/s320/Sachin+Tendulkar+World+Cup+2011+comment1.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Sachin... Sachin!!! man does anybody&amp;nbsp;in this world of cricket don't know him? I doubt it! He's considered messiah of the cricket world. 98 centuries in both formats of the game and still going strong and I have no doubts he'll&amp;nbsp;reach that coveted 100 centuries within couple of months or so. I like him but then he is not my favorite one in this game. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Of late, when this ICC world cup 2011 started naturally we will have the discussions post-match and there are always bunch of idiots who start commenting on the way Sachin batted. Don't they feel proud that we have 'GOD' playing in our team? And does real 'GOD' always came to your rescue when you are in deep shit? Here GOD is doing his part but what are the other team members doing to help him? can't they bowl perfect 10 wicket taking deliveries off 300 balls? If Sachin plays 120 balls and makes 130 or so runs can't the rest of the assholes make 200 off 180 balls?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;But then I won't blame anyone who is playing. I know the conditions could go against you, no one wants to be on the losing side. This is what makes the Indian team most existing, every time they went down they came up from the ashes like a phoenix. GO INDIA! GO!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-4544901970402729560?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/4544901970402729560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2011/03/random-updates.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4544901970402729560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4544901970402729560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2011/03/random-updates.html' title='Random updates'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-TQxsi5YG3b8/TX-mFbOSdPI/AAAAAAAADyY/g-LG9ZNX9pA/s72-c/Sachin+Tendulkar+World+Cup+2011+comment1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-4262237703465697044</id><published>2011-01-10T10:03:00.019-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-10T11:52:21.598-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='song'/><title type='text'>I Never felt</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/TSspGaYVAfI/AAAAAAAADww/9UWzt40DWUM/s1600/me-n-u-wallpaper.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/TSspGaYVAfI/AAAAAAAADww/9UWzt40DWUM/s320/me-n-u-wallpaper.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560583355056325106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="padding-left: 110px;"&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=7,0,19,0" name="raaga_swf" width="300" height="130"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.raaga.com/player4/std-embed/embed-pl.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="idsnew=259855&amp;amp;mode=100&amp;amp;q=1&amp;amp;a=1"&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed play="true" swliveconnect="true" id="raagaswf" wmode="transparent" name="raagaswf" allowscriptaccess="always" src="http://www.raaga.com/player4/std-embed/embed-pl.swf" quality="high" bgcolor="#000000" width="300" height="130" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="idsnew=259855&amp;amp;mode=100&amp;amp;q=1&amp;amp;a=1"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This is lyrics of a beautiful song (&lt;i&gt;Ne thalachane ledu&lt;/i&gt;)  from the Telugu movie "vareva"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;ne thalachane ledu&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;ravi leni &lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;udayam&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;nuvvu leni &lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;hrudhayam&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Translation: I never felt of the morning without sun, the heart without you...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;ne chudaneledu&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;nuvvu leni satyam&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;nuvvu leni swapnam&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Translation: I can't even see the truth in which you aren't there, the dream  in which you aren't there...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;ne palakaneledu ledu&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;nee peru thappa inke padam&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Translation: I can't even speak a word other than your name...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;ne adugane ledu &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;nee thodu thappa inke varam&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Translation: I can't wish for anything other than you...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;nee premaa naa jeevitham&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;naa jeevitham&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Translation: your love is my life...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;thana na thana na ta naa naa naam&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;thana na thana na ta naa naa naa&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;inta veganga maaripoyana&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;nee premadesam lo yedigipoyana&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Translation: Have I changed so fast? in your love-land have I grown up?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;sonta ballamedo marachipoyana&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;nee oohe pranamaga chesukunnanaaa&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Translation: Have I forgotten my strength? did I make your thoughts as my life?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;neeve naa navvulalo&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;cheliya naa kopaalu kariginnchanee&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Translation: let me melt my anger in your sweet smile&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;ee vintaa moham lo&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;sakhiya ee jeevantaa jeevinchanee&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Translation: my love let me live my life in this beautiful feeling&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;naa innti deepam ga&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;naa kannti roopam ga unnadi nuvvenani&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Translation: you are the light in my house, you are the sight of my eye...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;thana na thana na ta naa naa naam&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;thana na thana na ta naa naa naa&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;ne thalachane ledu&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;ravi leni hrudhayam&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;nuvvu leni udayam&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;ne chudaneledu&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;nuvvu leni satyam&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;nuvvu leni swapnam&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;ne palakaneledu ledu&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;nee peru thappa inke padam&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;ne adugane ledu &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;nee prema thappa inke varam&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;nee premaa naa jeevitham&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;naa jeevitham&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;thana na thana na ta naa naa naam&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;thana na thana na ta naa naa naa&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-4262237703465697044?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/4262237703465697044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2011/01/i-never-felt.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4262237703465697044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4262237703465697044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2011/01/i-never-felt.html' title='I Never felt'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/TSspGaYVAfI/AAAAAAAADww/9UWzt40DWUM/s72-c/me-n-u-wallpaper.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-2593269572602256268</id><published>2010-11-23T17:52:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-23T18:42:16.122-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='general'/><title type='text'>Boy or girl who is innocent?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/TOxQlwqNWHI/AAAAAAAADsk/Fwm7S4Gysyw/s1600/man-proposing-marriage.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 287px; height: 319px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/TOxQlwqNWHI/AAAAAAAADsk/Fwm7S4Gysyw/s400/man-proposing-marriage.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542893851033557106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Neither of them are innocent. Gone are those days when girls used to be in a shell and boys on the streets. A new world got created with the advent of not one thing but many. First it was movies, then Internet, then mobiles and now social networks. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Anyways, this argument will never have a conclusion so I'll not add anything more. Right so, I observed few things in girls of late, time has come to build a new list of "what women want?" or rather it should be "how you should interpret a girl?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;* Should I commit to her after couple a dates and lot of phone calls?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;@ I would say no, you shouldn't do that. Thing is a girl is never sure of what she wants.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;* Why do you say that?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;@well, let's say she will react according to the situation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;*Then, when should I propose her?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;@Never&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;*you are nuts, why should I listen to you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;@See, I have a theory for this. You'll propose her, for a week or two you'll feel she is best thing to happen in her life. After a month, you will naturally tend to become possessive. Then, you end up asking things like who is he? where are you now? why didn't you ans my call?. You'll get the answers for those questions initially, as the time passes she'll stop answering or rather she will lie to you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;*I don't wanna miss her...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;@my dearest dost, world is big pond which has many fishes. Go for fishing I say :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Now, its girls turn, "how should you interpret a boy?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;* I love him, I wanna be with him...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;@Are you sure? what about the other guys with you have soft corners?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;* I'm not serious about them...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;@So, you are damn sure of this guy. I would say think about it again (she will start getting confused now.. lol)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;* I think I need some more time to think...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;@ There you go...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;* But I don't want him to talk to other female souls...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;@huh, can you stay out from talking to you other male souls...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;*No way! why should I stop talking to others. Doesn't he believe in me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;@haha... if you can't then you shouldn't ask him to stop talking to others. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Bottom-line: In this world, no one is innocent anymore :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;PS: just a pun intended post, hope no one is offended... peace :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&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/21991499-2593269572602256268?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/2593269572602256268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/11/boy-or-girl-who-is-innocent.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2593269572602256268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2593269572602256268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/11/boy-or-girl-who-is-innocent.html' title='Boy or girl who is innocent?'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/TOxQlwqNWHI/AAAAAAAADsk/Fwm7S4Gysyw/s72-c/man-proposing-marriage.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-7632225131936135895</id><published>2010-10-22T14:05:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-22T15:09:01.909-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tag zone'/><title type='text'>Tagged</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/TMHg71TqO3I/AAAAAAAADpo/LcapYV_Cntk/s1600/tag.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: justify;float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 242px; " src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/TMHg71TqO3I/AAAAAAAADpo/LcapYV_Cntk/s400/tag.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5530949135914122098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;Last Movie You Saw In A Theater - Social Network&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;What Book Are You Reading - The Associate. &lt;i&gt;I'm trying my level best to finish it, been reading it for past 10 &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;                                                 months!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;Favorite Board Game - Carroms&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;Favorite Magazine - Used to be &lt;i&gt;sportstar &lt;/i&gt;when I was a kid&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;Favorite Smells - Girls shampooed hair :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;Favorite Sound - No sound ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;Worst Feeling In The World - jealousy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;What Is The First Thing You Think Of When You Wake? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;what I was dreaming about :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;Favorite Fast Food Place - Eat Street in Hyderabad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;Favorite Child’s Name - chuttki (my cousin)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;Finish This Statement. “If I Had A Lot Of Money I’d…”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;open few food joints, buy shares, and world tour and then a Ferrari!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;Do You Drive Fast?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;yes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;Do You Sleep With A Stuffed Animal?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;right!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;Storms-Cool Or Scary?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;both&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;What Was Your First Car?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;Toyota Corolla&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;Favorite Drink - scotch &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;Finish This Statement, “If I Had The Time I Would …..”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;I will drive to India from US :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;Do You Eat The Stems On Broccoli?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;Broccoli&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;If You Could Dye Your Hair Any Colour, What Would Be Your Choice?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;dark brown&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;Name All The Different Cities/Towns You Have Lived In - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;Kothagudam, Vijayawada, Hyderabad, Sunnyvale, Fremont, Terre Haute, Parsippany,  Edison, Royersford, fairfax&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;Favorite Sports To Watch - Cricket, NFL&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;One Nice Thing About The Person Who Sent This To You - He is not a gay :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;What’s Under Your Bed ? - Carpet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;Would You Like To Be Born As Yourself Again? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;yes yes yes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;Morning Person Or Night Owl?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;night owl&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;Over Easy or Sunny Side Up?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; "&gt;Sunny side up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;Favorite Place To Relax - In my car&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;Favorite Pie - I hate pies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;Favorite Ice Cream Flavor - Strawberry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;You pass this tag to - Kittu, Nandini&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;Of All The People You Tagged This To, Who’s Most Likely To Respond First?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; "&gt;Both Kittu and Nandini&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "&gt;&lt;br /&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/21991499-7632225131936135895?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/7632225131936135895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/10/tagged.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7632225131936135895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7632225131936135895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/10/tagged.html' title='Tagged'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/TMHg71TqO3I/AAAAAAAADpo/LcapYV_Cntk/s72-c/tag.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-2038499862160829190</id><published>2010-09-15T23:20:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-15T23:31:15.252-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem'/><title type='text'>found you atlast!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/TJGPdNXFb3I/AAAAAAAADiM/_qJved3gS10/s1600/kiss9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 314px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/TJGPdNXFb3I/AAAAAAAADiM/_qJved3gS10/s400/kiss9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517348750471032690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/TJGNsAyZBMI/AAAAAAAADiE/v_lkGAAw8es/s1600/06kiss1.span.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;those stars up in the sky smiled at me&lt;br /&gt;when i was walking with you,&lt;br /&gt;the cool breeze started singing&lt;br /&gt;when i was kissing you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my eyes stopped searching&lt;br /&gt;after seeing you,&lt;br /&gt;heart stopped skipping beats&lt;br /&gt;after finding you...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-2038499862160829190?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/2038499862160829190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/09/found-you-atlast.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2038499862160829190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2038499862160829190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/09/found-you-atlast.html' title='found you atlast!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/TJGPdNXFb3I/AAAAAAAADiM/_qJved3gS10/s72-c/kiss9.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-3869210095080155002</id><published>2010-08-27T18:43:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-27T19:25:39.790-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem'/><title type='text'>the you...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/THhIwhZb5kI/AAAAAAAADgE/HWKtnJmozsg/s1600/2304391062_31bb53690c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 284px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/THhIwhZb5kI/AAAAAAAADgE/HWKtnJmozsg/s400/2304391062_31bb53690c.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510234142523778626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Dream didn't want to continue&lt;br /&gt;until you were in it,&lt;br /&gt;Eyes didn't want to see anything&lt;br /&gt;other than you,&lt;br /&gt;my heart left me&lt;br /&gt;to start beating for you...&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/21991499-3869210095080155002?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/3869210095080155002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/08/you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/3869210095080155002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/3869210095080155002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/08/you.html' title='the you...'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/THhIwhZb5kI/AAAAAAAADgE/HWKtnJmozsg/s72-c/2304391062_31bb53690c.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-7807457740989829626</id><published>2010-08-03T11:45:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T17:00:06.825-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friend'/><title type='text'>The difference between a fruit and a root...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://dl3.glitter-graphics.net/pub/272/272063c6pp0o1r31.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 304px; height: 406px;" src="http://dl3.glitter-graphics.net/pub/272/272063c6pp0o1r31.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So, what comes to our mind when we think of a fruit and a root? I know you would say fruit which is sweet and which is not a vegetable ... DUH!!! and root is like legs for a tree without which it can't stand high. So far so good, now until one of my friends told me something really interesting about fruit and root I thought otherwise...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She told me this lovely quote,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;                                          &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;                                                                      Love is like a fruit,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;                                   Friend is like a root,                                  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  A tree can live without a fruit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;      but not without a root...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Well, that was some quotation you see. And then I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;donno&lt;/span&gt; if that holds firm in the meaning... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;hehe&lt;/span&gt;. See, if I go with examples now, for suppose, there's a boy and a girl, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;? and then they are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;jaan&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;jigaris&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;thats&lt;/span&gt; also cool. Next, this girl feels his problems are hers and vice-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;versa&lt;/span&gt;, they buy costly gifts, they'll do anything to catch up with each other regularly if not daily. Then the magic piece which God gave us to talk to each other from any corner of the world, provided signals are available. This relation can be kinda puppy kind or matured one, depends on the maturity levels they have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now my point, do you thing same kind of relation prevails among guys? I mean buying expensive gifts? catch up with each other? NO!!!    Birthdays will be remembered, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; not an issue, we celebrate with beers &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; for sure. Long weekend road trips, yes. Now, talking on magic piece is constrained to only 10-15 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;mins&lt;/span&gt;. Our conversation will start with, " &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;yaar&lt;/span&gt;, I need some money", "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;arey&lt;/span&gt; did u hear this, raj &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;ka&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;naya&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;gf&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;purane&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;wali&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;se&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;bhag&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;gayi&lt;/span&gt;, it seems she is gay... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;acha&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;huva&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;saale&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;ko&lt;/span&gt;", "dude I saw Ferrari, I could tailgate it for only 2 miles, it was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;aaaaaawesomeee&lt;/span&gt;...!!!". And it all ends up, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, I driving now, call me after 15 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;mins&lt;/span&gt;", "I'm in restroom, bas &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;doo&lt;/span&gt; min main will call u back..." (literally saying, I'm done talking to you...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, so the major difference would be that, you tend to be mushy with opp. sex for sure. But then only your friend understands your feelings without saying...  Now Now, my doubt, so lets say you fall in love with someone, and obviously you don't get time to spend time with your friends anymore. I here think your lover is your special friend so after writing this line a thought just striked me that a lover is your special friend even if guys feel that you can't be one at the end still you can end being the best friends forever... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt; , sorry I wasted time of you guys... thanks &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;sweth&lt;/span&gt; for the enlightenment!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-7807457740989829626?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/7807457740989829626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/08/difference-between-fruit-and-root.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7807457740989829626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7807457740989829626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/08/difference-between-fruit-and-root.html' title='The difference between a fruit and a root...'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-2024342162771866593</id><published>2010-07-21T11:28:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-21T12:08:14.156-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='timepass'/><title type='text'>Everyone loves me!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/TEcaiGDFaOI/AAAAAAAADPM/6MqMCkANTWE/s1600/prostitution-protest-ukraine-sex-tourists-tourism-pimping-slavery-human-trafficking-prostitutes-sexy-lingerie-brothel-activists-abuse-girls-kiss-money-suck-dollar-bill-teeth-bite-cash-pout-lips-photo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 228px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/TEcaiGDFaOI/AAAAAAAADPM/6MqMCkANTWE/s320/prostitution-protest-ukraine-sex-tourists-tourism-pimping-slavery-human-trafficking-prostitutes-sexy-lingerie-brothel-activists-abuse-girls-kiss-money-suck-dollar-bill-teeth-bite-cash-pout-lips-photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496391043270404322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;You all know me, and love me. You all will do anything for me, so basically I'm being loved more than your girlfriends and boyfriends, wives and husbands. I'm so dear to you people that you hold me between your lips, some soft and some cracked, clutch me tight with your hands, this love shows how hygiene am I...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, my most favorite outing would be in strip clubs,  Well, then I get to travel all over the world without any visa or passport, thanks to you guys for taking me along with you. I think everything is directly or indirectly related to me, it might be good and also bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Bottom-line&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;: "Everyone loves me and wants me" (single finger to those who hate me and five fingers to those who love me!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;By the way my name is Bill, Dollar Bill!!&lt;/span&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/21991499-2024342162771866593?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/2024342162771866593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/07/everyone-loves-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2024342162771866593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2024342162771866593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/07/everyone-loves-me.html' title='Everyone loves me!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/TEcaiGDFaOI/AAAAAAAADPM/6MqMCkANTWE/s72-c/prostitution-protest-ukraine-sex-tourists-tourism-pimping-slavery-human-trafficking-prostitutes-sexy-lingerie-brothel-activists-abuse-girls-kiss-money-suck-dollar-bill-teeth-bite-cash-pout-lips-photo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-4354825188270088705</id><published>2010-04-06T14:19:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-06T15:45:32.638-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='timepass'/><title type='text'>Youngistaan Ka WOW!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images2.fanpop.com/images/photos/6200000/Alice-Upside-Down-alice-upside-down-6289969-369-553.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 369px; height: 553px;" src="http://images2.fanpop.com/images/photos/6200000/Alice-Upside-Down-alice-upside-down-6289969-369-553.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;What was the question??, yeah, "If you were the game master, what challenge would you like to throw to Ranbir?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Challenge:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Lucida Sans Unicode;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;He will have to hit a shot of Tequila and stand upside down for a minute!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Lucida Sans Unicode;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&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/21991499-4354825188270088705?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/4354825188270088705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/04/youngistaan-ka-wow.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4354825188270088705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4354825188270088705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/04/youngistaan-ka-wow.html' title='Youngistaan Ka WOW!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-2813473240710016439</id><published>2010-01-18T02:16:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-18T10:17:49.316-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='general'/><title type='text'>random updates</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S1Ql-vsEHqI/AAAAAAAAC7w/hM9VYZ1GvnU/s1600-h/Random_CrappyoDetail.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 186px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S1Ql-vsEHqI/AAAAAAAAC7w/hM9VYZ1GvnU/s200/Random_CrappyoDetail.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428005210771693218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt; Time is slipping really fast these days, hours have become days in no time. I'm little excited about that because the day of joining some company and waiting for weekends would always be fun. Waiting for weekends isn't new for me, back then when I was in amazon.com my weekend used to start from Thursday evening itself. Those days were fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what's new in this year 2010, well I started tweeting again and added SRK, Jr AB, Saif, Genelia, Shahid, Farhan Akhtar etc etc... in my list. The list is little big to mention all the names here.  Now these guys are tweeting like they are breathing, minute-to-minute update like I-am-stuck-in-the-traffic, good-mornings-evenings-nights, having tea-coffee-juice, wonder why don't they tweet about when they farted and how big the sound came off it and if their movie is gonna released then you can imagine their tweets: keeping-all-body-parts-cross, gave interviews-here-there-everywhere. And after release: thnkxs-for-dare-watching-the-movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This reminds of Uday Chopra's tweet after the release of Pyaar Impossible:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thanks everyone for your positive feedback on the movie, haven't been able to reply to all but been reading all the tweets" (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bloody hell, if you have received positive response you would reply, why would you reply if you didn't get any... lol)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't handle this nuisance, let's see wt will pappu tweet if he becomes a hero&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..............&lt;br /&gt;tweet 1: "Haa, birds get up so early and flying also, shit I'm late for jogging..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm going into restroom, censored ( lol...) attending nature's call...now a days its always on engage don't have time for it only..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"back from restroom, tying my shoe lace" (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;how are u tying while u r sending the tweet fag ass?&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"me jogging guys" (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;u r tweeting also Mr.pappu, forgot tht already?&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;back from jogging, so tired couldn't jog for more than 5 mins, so much flab i have, got to do sth, this jogging will nt help"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"guys, no shooting today, so will watch a movie, suggest me some good movie. I'm waiting for ur reply..." (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;there's always some pappu who will reply to this tweet&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ok, I'm watching my own movie, pappu pass nahi huvaa..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"eating channa, movie is so interesting"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Guysssssss, I jus farted...., a silent one though..." (hold your noses, silent the fart deadlier it would smell... remember &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;khanishtham thudthudiiy padam.... sursuria pran khatam!!!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;guys guys, I was kidding in my prev tweet..." (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;who was eating channa, huh??&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm stopping here this post will nvr end if I also create imaginary tweets from bed to back to bed, now you can imagine the level of tweeting these days in the micro-blogsville, thanks to our actors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, moving on from the annoying world, let's move into musical world. Gosh, a musical buff like me couldn't have asked more after listening to new releases: karthik calling karthik, striker, kedi (telugu), vinnaithaandi Varuvaayaa &lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;(ar rahman's tamil album) and then ishqiya. All of 'em have really good tracks. One of the movies music cd's is yet to hit the stores but somehow I managed to find a way to download that album online... woohoo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These days "uff teri adaa" is in the loop followed by "dil tho baccha hai ji" (ishqiya), "hosanna" (ar rahman) and yun hua (striker).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, then have been watching movies as if there's no tomorrow for me. Last night saw "Yes man" the closing scene of that movie was ultimate. Before starting this post finished watching "Star trek" (blu ray version). I have decided to say good bye to dvd version and welcome blu ray from here on, no compromise with the quality you see...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Signing off with a positive note for you n me: "Live life to the fullest"&lt;/span&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/21991499-2813473240710016439?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/2813473240710016439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/01/random-updates.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2813473240710016439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2813473240710016439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/01/random-updates.html' title='random updates'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S1Ql-vsEHqI/AAAAAAAAC7w/hM9VYZ1GvnU/s72-c/Random_CrappyoDetail.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-597905790520882494</id><published>2010-01-14T12:50:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T12:55:45.166-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem'/><title type='text'>cry n weep</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S09aVjQdKDI/AAAAAAAAC6g/TbPH5kJnO_Y/s1600-h/www.dumbaaldum.org-cry.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S09aVjQdKDI/AAAAAAAAC6g/TbPH5kJnO_Y/s200/www.dumbaaldum.org-cry.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426655402292750386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;i cry i cry&lt;br /&gt;i cry till this world gets wet&lt;br /&gt;i weep..i weep..&lt;br /&gt;.den i get over it"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;- cry by brute, weep by mytree&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/21991499-597905790520882494?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/597905790520882494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/01/cry-n-weep.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/597905790520882494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/597905790520882494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/01/cry-n-weep.html' title='cry n weep'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S09aVjQdKDI/AAAAAAAAC6g/TbPH5kJnO_Y/s72-c/www.dumbaaldum.org-cry.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-679712773261707425</id><published>2010-01-11T11:20:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T12:04:36.006-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='timepass'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='general'/><title type='text'>what's your bra color?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S0tYk0FVIbI/AAAAAAAAC6A/I74FTt5V5l8/s1600-h/How-to-Buy-the-Perfect-Bra_full_article_vertical.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 169px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S0tYk0FVIbI/AAAAAAAAC6A/I74FTt5V5l8/s200/How-to-Buy-the-Perfect-Bra_full_article_vertical.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425527565577429426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;My friend Sai rushed to me day before night and asked, "dude, log into facebook right now." I logged in and waited for him to say what to do next. "Now, check the status mssg of the girls in your friends list." Ok, I did that too then what?? "Ok, now see if any girls status mssg is having a color." First I got confused, color? I thought status mssg will be in color so I casually looked over and said, "NO." As if he looked through my eyes he said, "no dude, status mssg will be a color, like see here her status mssg is blue, now check in your list." I still didn't understand what was he trying with those mssgs, anyways I looked over my list and found five colors and one said none??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got up from a good sleep, hardly opened my eyes properly and this ass was asking me to do this stupid job which I wasn't understanding why he wanted me to check. I asked him what's with color thing. "Dude, that's the bra color they are wearing today..." I just opened my mouth so big that with in secs it went dry. I asked him, "why would they do that?", he said, "some breast cancer awareness campaign it seems..."  Out of curiosity I asked him with a wink,  "what about your chicks, how many odd and even colors in your list?". He said, "black, white, pink and blue... just four dude, what about you?" , I told him black, white, red, blue and and none. The word none made us wink and laugh hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, jokes apart, is this a serious thing or a prank that kicked off like a wildfire. Well, whatever girls revealed the thing which had to be kept secret and yeah, you girls made us boys go drooling and made our eyes to wait for your status mssg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: update for my previous post - "giri missed her bus to colg again..."&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/21991499-679712773261707425?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/679712773261707425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/01/whats-your-bra-color.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/679712773261707425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/679712773261707425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/01/whats-your-bra-color.html' title='what&apos;s your bra color?'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S0tYk0FVIbI/AAAAAAAAC6A/I74FTt5V5l8/s72-c/How-to-Buy-the-Perfect-Bra_full_article_vertical.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-8886276157608603604</id><published>2010-01-09T22:41:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T09:25:14.493-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crap'/><title type='text'>nasty ass</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S0nd6tsO29I/AAAAAAAAC54/KAJe__k25Xg/s1600-h/alcohol_hangover1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 144px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S0nd6tsO29I/AAAAAAAAC54/KAJe__k25Xg/s200/alcohol_hangover1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425111226911742930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So, how nasty are you? I guess I'll easily beat most of the people out there. Fearing my mom I used to be neat and clean and tidy with myself and my stuff, but now no one to control I have become the nasty ass. How nasty? well, one day when I was in California I had class at 10am. For that class you have to catch bus at 9:10am, so I get up at 9am. Can't blame my alarm for that  it did its job, but I had hangover, boozed all night and slept only at 6 am in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, so I get up at 9am rush into restroom gargled with warm water, applied hair gel, wore some deo and then was running towards bus stop on my flip-flops, on the way grabbed a chewing gum, my phone, my mp4 player, a pen, a book and a banana. Now the timing of reaching the bus stop is very vital, because my apt is at least 100 meters away from the bus stop, we calculated the time of when we have to start precisely from apt and start running (jogging will not help) so that we can reach the bus stop where the bus would have just reached the bus stop. So it has to be on or before 9:07am. Now there's a theory, if we didn't start running by 9:07am we used to stay back home, 'cus the ride to school takes 40 minutes and then we have the buses to my school every 40 mins so the next bus will be at 9:50am and by the time we reach school it would be 10:30 am.  And, then attendance will be taken at 10:15am, so there's no point in going to school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, where was I, yeah, running. I managed to catch my bus just in time and then reached school with shabby look. Class just started by the time I entered the class, the entire length of the class was staring at me. I didn't bother, I just walked in and sat beside my friend Vishali. Vishali kept staring at me all the class. That day we had some role play, it was managerial economics class, so I put my hand up for taking part. I was standing right beside my crush, diana. This role play is how effectively we are able to communicate and send  a word from one end to other end. Game was that the first person would say a word to his neighbor then that neighbor will whisper to next person and then finally it will be whispered to the end person. Now that person would tell loud the word he was communicated. basically the participants were from different countries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that day diana looked so beautiful that I wanted to touch her (pervert me ...chi chi :P). And the ghost inside me danced all the way when she stood beside in the role play, if she has to whisper she has to come close and whisper in my ear. Haha... She whispered once, then I whispered in her ears in my turn to communicate a word. Gosh, she smelled sweet.... I got lucky [:P]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;After that I told Vishali, what I secretly wished and it was fulfilled right away. She was like yuck, you pervert!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the class, professor called me into his office and requested me to come in proper way and not like a shabby nasty ass...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: this post is dedicated to girija, who missed her bus college today. She got up at 8:40 and her bus was at 8:45... [:P]&lt;br /&gt;&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/21991499-8886276157608603604?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/8886276157608603604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/01/nasty-ass.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8886276157608603604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8886276157608603604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/01/nasty-ass.html' title='nasty ass'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S0nd6tsO29I/AAAAAAAAC54/KAJe__k25Xg/s72-c/alcohol_hangover1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-6048730296618826283</id><published>2010-01-05T06:12:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T07:49:36.925-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story time'/><title type='text'>my daughter - the end</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S0MvVOejwQI/AAAAAAAAC5w/MaRB6dYjsqw/s1600-h/BlogBoardShare.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S0MvVOejwQI/AAAAAAAAC5w/MaRB6dYjsqw/s200/BlogBoardShare.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423230417994236162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Continued from &lt;a href="http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/11/my-daughter-2.html"&gt;here...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I checked my watch it's 5pm, Abhi started loading the luggage into the cab. Puri was holding my hand tightly, for the first time I saw her nervous. Bindu was checking her file for one last time. Abhi came back and helped her checking the papers she had to carry with her. All the relatives slowly got up and started getting ready to go to airport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started to airport at 5:15pm, Bindu was sitting between puri and me, Abhi in the front. Other people came in other cars. "Bindu, eat nicely and healthy. Be careful with the people you meet and try to call us twice a week, " puri said giving her a telephone contacts book. "You'll find all the numbers of our relatives and also the one's who are in US..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Airport was still 15 minutes away and I wanted to ask Bindu something, but didn't know how to ask her. "Bindu beta, I'm sorry to ask you this at this time...", "go ahead dad, ask me..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I came to know about chetan, " I said that in lower tone. I saw panic in Bindu's face, I took her hand into mine and said, "actually, I didn't want to ask you this and could have waited till you told me about him. But things went out of control when my friend spotted you with this guy at his pub and the way you guys were in each others arms, he called me same day and told me about this. I got chetan's number from your friend mayuri and called him up, he said he has feelings for you but neither of you guys told this to each other. And, he also said that he going to the same school where you are going and he's gonna travel with you today right?..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dad, I'm sorry..." Bindu had tears in her eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Na na  Bindu, don't be, you didn't do anything wrong. I just wanted to know how serious are you about chetan. Because this is very tender stage where you don't exactly know your feelings, maintaining a relation is always tough. And, one more thing, I always support you in whatever as long you are sure of it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dad, I like him. But I'm not sure if I love him or not..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hmm, well then don't take much time to think then. Because chetan has high hopes on you, before its too late come to a decision and let him know. I don't want you to get disturbed with this mental tension of relationships, and don't worry I'm always there to help you out. I'm telling you all this because I and your mom had similar problem before we could commit to each other back then and I don't want my sweetheart to face similar problem..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I love you dad..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"love you too beta.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Puri had a stun expression while we both were talking this, but then she smiled at the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally we reached airport and then after few mins Bindu checked in, before leaving she whispered in my ears giving a peck, " it's a very difficult job to be a good dad...". I whispered back, " I know and thanks for understanding..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----the end---&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/21991499-6048730296618826283?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/6048730296618826283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/01/my-daughter-end.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/6048730296618826283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/6048730296618826283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2010/01/my-daughter-end.html' title='my daughter - the end'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S0MvVOejwQI/AAAAAAAAC5w/MaRB6dYjsqw/s72-c/BlogBoardShare.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-5180219165390725475</id><published>2009-12-26T22:51:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T06:00:59.335-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me..'/><title type='text'>quarter century</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.kartoen.be/cartoons/happysad/birthday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 490px;" src="http://www.kartoen.be/cartoons/happysad/birthday.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I'm 25 years, can't believe myself and other friends of mine you think I might be 23 or 24 now (hehe...) well, I guess I saw world complete 360 degrees. Now people might say it's nothing whatever you saw so far, many things are waiting to be experienced. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;This year birthday was supposedly the longest one of my life, for the wishes started coming in from the 0000hrs IST and lasted till the last minute of 0000 EST.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-5180219165390725475?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/5180219165390725475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/12/quarter-century.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/5180219165390725475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/5180219165390725475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/12/quarter-century.html' title='quarter century'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-2154879375686124132</id><published>2009-11-12T15:36:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T16:30:54.687-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>bloody week</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/Svx9MZFvmYI/AAAAAAAACPY/ueaBX6UXcn8/s1600-h/paranormal-activity-dwrks2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 139px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/Svx9MZFvmYI/AAAAAAAACPY/ueaBX6UXcn8/s200/paranormal-activity-dwrks2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403331304784632194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;What's happening with me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ORKUT&lt;br /&gt;What's new in new orkut, nothing new if you have an account in facebook. Miles to go compete with facebook. Anyways, all my excitement of getting the invitation for new orkut didn't live long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FACEBOOK&lt;br /&gt;Last week I tried some real stupid stuff to gain XP and coins in farmville. Tried all the hacks available on youtube and of course I gained 13000 XP points in one and half days time. Anyways I got bored of that and now I'm back to orthodox way of farming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WEIGHT LOSING&lt;br /&gt;Not much happened this week, but yeah found out something while shopping couple of  days back. My waist size has come down to 32, was 38 five months back. Didn't get excited about that, losing wt isn't getting exciting anymore but still on this occasion I shelled out 99 bucks for the pair of jeans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PARANORMAL ACTIVITY WEEK&lt;br /&gt;Hell yeah, this week of paranormal thingy started day after the Halloween day. My friend Divya calls me and starts talking about this movie called &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;paranormal activity&lt;/span&gt;, she saw that on Halloween night and she got disturbed after watching that movie. She couldn't sleep all night and next day too. What's haunting about the movie is this is a horror movie which is not made in any big castle or big house having dozen rooms, this is made in small apt just like any other you see in your day to day life where you live, visit your friends place. So this creates a doubt in your mind that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;are we living with some else other than our friends? &lt;/span&gt;and then few more people tell me their scary experience about the movie. One fine night when I was damn sleepy, couldn't help fall asleep in the couch at my work place. I was sleeping in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sitting &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;position with my right hand providing the required cushioning for my head. I slept for more than 2 hrs in that position and finally when my mind alarm blew I tried to wake up, I couldn't open my eyes for some reason, I couldn't pull my hand down, I felt as if someone was holding my hands and to worsen my imagination I felt warm air on my hair as if someone was breathing right on my head.&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/21991499-2154879375686124132?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/2154879375686124132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/11/bloody-week.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2154879375686124132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2154879375686124132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/11/bloody-week.html' title='bloody week'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/Svx9MZFvmYI/AAAAAAAACPY/ueaBX6UXcn8/s72-c/paranormal-activity-dwrks2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-5930083371837124951</id><published>2009-11-11T07:58:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T07:50:13.334-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story time'/><title type='text'>My daughter - 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SvrER5nEtUI/AAAAAAAACPQ/t85SmDt-arw/s1600-h/My-Daughter-Kieran-fanpop-users-5846810-2560-1920.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 200px; float: left; height: 150px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402846514785858882" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SvrER5nEtUI/AAAAAAAACPQ/t85SmDt-arw/s200/My-Daughter-Kieran-fanpop-users-5846810-2560-1920.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Continued from&lt;a href="http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/11/my-daughter.html"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/11/my-daughter.html"&gt;here &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Abhi was busy taking care of the guests and Puri was helping Bindu. Rest were glued to News channel worried about the CM who is missing since last night. The last point of contact with chopper was while flying over Nallamala forests and no one could contact them due to bad weather from that point. And my worry was how will my girl survive outside.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Dad, what are you doing here?" Bindu was visibly nervous since morning buzzing in and out of the room making sure she isn't forgetting anything. "Are you looking for something?" I asked her making her sit on my lap. "Yes, you..." she said giving me a peck, "I'm very nervous dad, I feel like not going anywhere... Shall I stay back?", "sure... I'll be more happy," I said with a smile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"What's going on here between you two huh?" Puri came into the room with plate of curd rice, "you haven't eaten anything since morning". "I'm not hungry mom, I don't feel like eating," she got up from my lap and tried to escape from her mother. Abhi came from behind and caught her, I took the plate from Puri and fed Bindu and Abhi, even Abhi hasn't eaten anything all day he was taking care of things while I was with Bindu trying to the spend maximum amount of time I had.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;First time when I took Bindu into my hands, my heart pounded, a sudden chill ran through my body. I watched her for hours when she was sleeping holding my finger with her little hand. Well, she's 21 already and ready to take off to a new world to pursue her dreams...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;...&lt;em&gt;to be continued&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/21991499-5930083371837124951?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/5930083371837124951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/11/my-daughter-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/5930083371837124951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/5930083371837124951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/11/my-daughter-2.html' title='My daughter - 2'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SvrER5nEtUI/AAAAAAAACPQ/t85SmDt-arw/s72-c/My-Daughter-Kieran-fanpop-users-5846810-2560-1920.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-2634362991878968200</id><published>2009-11-09T08:48:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T07:41:31.045-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story time'/><title type='text'>My daughter</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SvglzlkVINI/AAAAAAAACOw/VRoJ8iSZVf8/s1600-h/for%2520my%2520daughter%25201.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402109321218957522" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 200px; height: 128px;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SvglzlkVINI/AAAAAAAACOw/VRoJ8iSZVf8/s200/for%2520my%2520daughter%25201.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The meaning of &lt;em&gt;love&lt;/em&gt; changed as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;bindu&lt;/span&gt; was growing, from liking things around to liking a person. Today, she has grown up to make her own decision, that's how she grew up. For some reason &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;abhi&lt;/span&gt;, my younger son wasn't like her, unsure of what he wants. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Bindu&lt;/span&gt; said everything but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;abhi&lt;/span&gt; like a typical guy hid things from me, not that I was ignorant of his actions outside.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Everyone knew that I always wanted a girl and God blessed me with one, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Puri&lt;/span&gt; wanted a boy (&lt;em&gt;thank God, you heard hers too... :D&lt;/em&gt;) . I have never seen &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Puri&lt;/span&gt; in irritating mood all these years, I always wondered how is that possible for a school teacher. But I'm little short-tempered having mood-swings, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Puri&lt;/span&gt; never complained about it. My habit of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;hiding&lt;/span&gt; things has gone when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Puri&lt;/span&gt; entered my life, I always thought that no one in this world would understand me but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Puri&lt;/span&gt; proved me wrong. Even though I left smoking long ago, I still have an itch for an occasional fag which I fulfill in the restroom. And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Puri&lt;/span&gt; makes me feel guilty by spraying air &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;freshener&lt;/span&gt; in the restroom. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Bindu&lt;/span&gt; is leaving to US for further studies today. Her flight is at 8PM and the house was buzzing with guests who have come to give her a send off. I was sitting in her room looking into her album...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;... to be continued&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/21991499-2634362991878968200?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/2634362991878968200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/11/my-daughter.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2634362991878968200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2634362991878968200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/11/my-daughter.html' title='My daughter'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SvglzlkVINI/AAAAAAAACOw/VRoJ8iSZVf8/s72-c/for%2520my%2520daughter%25201.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-7343649730381628919</id><published>2009-11-03T09:43:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T12:03:49.883-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='250th post'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem'/><title type='text'>a moment..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SvBFy5SmvYI/AAAAAAAACN4/bZMDYm5Aq-w/s1600-h/solitude.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399892693891857794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SvBFy5SmvYI/AAAAAAAACN4/bZMDYm5Aq-w/s320/solitude.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It feels  nice to wake up in the morning &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;have a smile on your face&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if only life was just a moment,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish to stay in there forever... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-7343649730381628919?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/7343649730381628919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/11/moment.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7343649730381628919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7343649730381628919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/11/moment.html' title='a moment..'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SvBFy5SmvYI/AAAAAAAACN4/bZMDYm5Aq-w/s72-c/solitude.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-6321517980040332424</id><published>2009-10-15T07:00:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T07:46:45.922-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='general'/><title type='text'>the ville show on facebook!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/StcLYZQWPII/AAAAAAAACMo/k5KJz7nK1QY/s1600-h/020909121934gameBig_farmville.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 245px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/StcLYZQWPII/AAAAAAAACMo/k5KJz7nK1QY/s320/020909121934gameBig_farmville.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392791592523676802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Now it has become a part of life to allocate at least 2-3 hours for facebooking, not for keeping in touch with your friends but to take care of your virtual-farm, bakery, cafe, house, fishes so on... I'm talking about the games in the facebook that created by &lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.zynga.com/"&gt;zynga&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;/i&gt;a company that specializes in social games for social networks including facebook, MySpace, iPhone, and Bebo. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Of all the games they developed &lt;i&gt;farmville &lt;/i&gt;stands out the most addictive one in the whole lot. &lt;i&gt;Farmville &lt;/i&gt;had just 354 users on June 20, the day after it launched. And today, it's widely believed to be the largest and fastest-growing social game ever. &lt;i&gt;Farmville &lt;/i&gt;and &lt;i&gt;Mafia Wars &lt;/i&gt;boasts more than 125 million monthly active users. &lt;i&gt;Zynga Poker &lt;/i&gt;was their first social game, in July 2007. Its latest game, &lt;i&gt;cafeworld, &lt;/i&gt;has zoomed to 10 million users in about a week. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;My relation with &lt;i&gt;Zynga &lt;/i&gt;started off with &lt;i&gt;Poker, &lt;/i&gt;people accused me for jubilating on the virtual money I won. I remember playing that for one full semester before moving on to &lt;i&gt;Mafia Wars, &lt;/i&gt;then &lt;i&gt;Farmville, Yoville, &lt;/i&gt;and now &lt;i&gt;cafeworld. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/21991499-6321517980040332424?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/6321517980040332424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/10/ville-show-on-facebook.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/6321517980040332424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/6321517980040332424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/10/ville-show-on-facebook.html' title='the ville show on facebook!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/StcLYZQWPII/AAAAAAAACMo/k5KJz7nK1QY/s72-c/020909121934gameBig_farmville.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-2928871809478430882</id><published>2009-10-12T09:33:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T09:38:40.628-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem'/><title type='text'>with you...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/StMw0Y61LEI/AAAAAAAACMg/3ynCHWauXsY/s1600-h/557724730_f0dbbcc21e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 238px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/StMw0Y61LEI/AAAAAAAACMg/3ynCHWauXsY/s320/557724730_f0dbbcc21e.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391706855493151810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;When I was with you, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;sun, moon, rain,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;all looked the same...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/21991499-2928871809478430882?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/2928871809478430882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/10/with-you.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2928871809478430882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2928871809478430882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/10/with-you.html' title='with you...'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/StMw0Y61LEI/AAAAAAAACMg/3ynCHWauXsY/s72-c/557724730_f0dbbcc21e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-5136527562963420870</id><published>2009-10-09T15:03:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T17:55:45.057-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>Long time no see...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/Ss-s1yNcoZI/AAAAAAAACMY/GJ3ynAFKLzA/s1600-h/Image+2009109170303.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/Ss-s1yNcoZI/AAAAAAAACMY/GJ3ynAFKLzA/s320/Image+2009109170303.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390717318996992402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It's been ages since I wrote something in here. I did start writing a new story &lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.brutescolumn.com/search/label/another%20short%20story"&gt;I'm not ready&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;, but I never came back to finish it. When I wanted to write the next episode "What's your rashee," movie pops up, ruining my story which has more or less similar kind of story. Anyways, the other day I happen to take a snap with cross legs pointing towards sky. Now, this was heights, because similar kind of pose is shown in the movie &lt;i&gt;wake up s!d &lt;/i&gt;that's my mistake. When I upload the pic people ask me to come up with original ideas, hehe... what can I say except try to defend myself a bit and laugh at the coincidence. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Well, life has become real hectic these days, been working all seven days a week and then job search, project work, etc etc... The other day I drove over on to the pavement while parking, fell asleep driving ( I couldn't stop laughing at my friend's scared expression that day...). That's all from me... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-5136527562963420870?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/5136527562963420870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/10/long-time-no-see.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/5136527562963420870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/5136527562963420870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/10/long-time-no-see.html' title='Long time no see...'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/Ss-s1yNcoZI/AAAAAAAACMY/GJ3ynAFKLzA/s72-c/Image+2009109170303.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-3185381436632329417</id><published>2009-07-19T23:57:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T01:14:45.110-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='another short story'/><title type='text'>I'm not ready - 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SmP8FCQbt2I/AAAAAAAACDk/NC-6D2bAByM/s1600-h/Married-with-bagage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SmP8FCQbt2I/AAAAAAAACDk/NC-6D2bAByM/s200/Married-with-bagage.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360405144936363874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; continued from &lt;a href="http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/07/im-not-ready.html"&gt;here...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/07/im-not-ready.html"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Jaaggu, get up you lazy bones... it's 10, I'm leaving to office... breakfast is ready on the dinning table, take bath and eat, and call me if you don't find anything... bye," I heard mom in my half-asleep state. I rolled over on my bed lazily and reached my mobile, it was 10:10 am. I took a minute to open my eyes properly and got up. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;After taking bath I walked towards dinning table. I saw an envelope on the table, I served idlies in my plate and opened that envelope. It had photographs, all girls, homely, modernly, weirdly...ewww! I hate 'em all! I put 'em back into the envelope and had my breakfast at peace. Later, I called up my friends, bloody hell, everyone are busy at office and I was afraid to be on the hit list of the boredom now. This can't continue, I can't ruin my stay like this. I didn't know what should be done to end this boredom. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Mom came back from office at 6 in the evening. She went straight towards the dinning table to check what did I eat for breakfast and lunch, "Jaggu, what's this you ate only 3 idlies since morning?" , "I didn't feel like eating... anyways, what's that envelope thing?" I asked. "Photos, did you check them out?", "Mom... I said I don't wanna get married, not at least for 3 more yrs...". Mom said, "Right, by then no one will come forward to marry an old man... and one more thing, that envelope has 8 pics and before you go back I have to know whom you gonna marry, if you don't like those 8 there are 3 more envelopes to be opened... you have no option but to select one from those pics..." , "Mom, you kidding me... I'm not gonna do that..." . Dad made his entry while this was happening... "Jagdeesh, you should be thankful that I allowed your mom to get your opinion, I already gave my word to couple of them, so I need to know your choice before leaving otherwise your engagement with a random girl is for sure by then..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I pitied myself for being in this situation, if only I had a girlfriend I wouldn't have been here. I smoked one full box of Marlboro's on the terrace all night thinking. Next day morning, I got a brilliant idea of escapism, I went to the hall and announced my decision while other members of my family were having breakfast, "well, I will do whatever you guys want but there's one thing I wanna ensure that which ever girl I choose should match my tastes by at least 60 percent and I wanna meet each girl personally not in front of her parents but somewhere outside in a restaurant of some coffee shop. If you guys are okay with this, then I'm ready..." . Mom and Dad whispered something within themselves and nodded their head...&lt;i&gt; Yippy! the official dating spree is on!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;...to be continued&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-3185381436632329417?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/3185381436632329417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/07/im-not-ready-1.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/3185381436632329417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/3185381436632329417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/07/im-not-ready-1.html' title='I&apos;m not ready - 1'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SmP8FCQbt2I/AAAAAAAACDk/NC-6D2bAByM/s72-c/Married-with-bagage.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-1432090784265411196</id><published>2009-07-15T16:48:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T14:39:01.234-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Romantic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem'/><title type='text'>a wish...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/Sl5GEzTOLQI/AAAAAAAACDE/BXKr-1kHNHg/s1600-h/blog"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/Sl5GEzTOLQI/AAAAAAAACDE/BXKr-1kHNHg/s200/blog" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358797654921719042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Nothing comes to my mind &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;when I look into your eyes,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;the thousand words you speak thru 'em.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;you are the beauty within my heart, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;and life of my soul.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I wish this moment never dies...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/21991499-1432090784265411196?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/1432090784265411196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/07/wish.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1432090784265411196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1432090784265411196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/07/wish.html' title='a wish...'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/Sl5GEzTOLQI/AAAAAAAACDE/BXKr-1kHNHg/s72-c/blog' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-4207154299521011567</id><published>2009-07-01T01:36:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T01:55:30.829-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='another short story'/><title type='text'>I'm not ready</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tartandsoul.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/bride-and-groom1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="http://tartandsoul.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/bride-and-groom1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Hi, I'm jags aka Jagdeesh. I'm twenty six and half, project manager in a construction company. I have come to US four years back, did my MS in Industrial Engineering and now doing a job here. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;My parents and my younger sister are back in India busy looking matches for me. According to them I'm a settled person and should get married now. But I'm not ready for that, I told them this many times but they ask for a reason. I gave them N number of reasons, now I ran out of them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I have my own reasons to stay away from getting married, can say I have inferiority complex of marrying the person whom I donno , that's one reason, I also have many more reasons.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Well, I have taken leave for three weeks for a vacation to India after two years, not for getting married but to meet my parents and sis and also a special person...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;story begins soon...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-4207154299521011567?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/4207154299521011567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/07/im-not-ready.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4207154299521011567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4207154299521011567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/07/im-not-ready.html' title='I&apos;m not ready'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-1686203643325242281</id><published>2009-06-04T16:15:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T02:01:50.777-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='timepass'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crap'/><title type='text'>Datingsutra</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.nigeria-planet.com/image-files/dating3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 454px; height: 341px;" src="http://www.nigeria-planet.com/image-files/dating3.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;At around one in the night, while I was on phone, I find a book in my room. "Dating fundas for Guys and Girls" by Chaya Srivatsa, at the first sight of it I started laughing thinking who could have bought this book. Anyways, I was bored so thought of checking how different are the fundas from the fundas I learnt all these years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Well, I'm not gonna discuss each and every fundas given in that book, only the ones which I feel that everyone should know is discussed here...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Don't let a chilling silence creep in", that sounds perfect isn't it? well, generally at these kinda dating situations you tend to become numb as you donno what to talk and on which topic. Hang on, politics, religion and gender issues shouldn't be a part of your discussion, thank you that will end your so-called date in no time. So, talk crap but talk, movies, food, books, anything except those prohibited topics and don't be rude and also pay attention what the other has to say (courtesy dude...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Choose someone who is intellectually compatible", this one is my fav., now I don't wanna spend the evening with a decorative doll with nice make up and lipstick rather than brains!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Avoid a proxy approach of sending word thru' a common friend", this reminds me of the errands in old movies who gets sandwiched between 'em passing love notes. Be a man dude, say to her whatever comes to your mind, but be cautious on what you gonna say.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"A date is not a counseling couch so don't advise each other", hahhaa... can't stop laughing my ass out. Anyone out there has this experience? [:P]. It's funny man...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Get your knowledge levels up. Be up to date with current affairs, watch the news and read quality papers", this is even funnier, hahaha.... as if this guy/gal is going to an interview rather than to a date. But, you never know, can't take chances you see, this one suits for someone like "beauty with brains" and you don't wanna lose her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Here comes the interesting topic of the entire book, my the fav. one, "What girls want"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;- bring her flowers&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;- look her in the eyes and smile&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;- if you're in love with her... tell her&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;- if you say you're going to call DO IT!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;- Don't be JEALOUS (this one is damn important... )&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;- Be yourself&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Those are few which I felt were key ones.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Girls this one is for you, "What guys want from girls"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;- Don't expect him to read you mind and keep guessing&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;- Don't get into arguments over trivial issues&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;- Don't throw tantrums and act hysterical&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;That's it, rest are predictable, that we like sports, run away from getting married so on...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Last and very important point, don't be possessive, this will become fatal in your relationships..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&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/21991499-1686203643325242281?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/1686203643325242281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/06/datingsutra.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1686203643325242281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1686203643325242281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/06/datingsutra.html' title='Datingsutra'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-8051613026361654702</id><published>2009-05-30T17:01:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T18:32:46.302-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>The Unplanned exciting day!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SiGzLWAGckI/AAAAAAAABt8/RDeHkltPpL4/s1600-h/Prayanam+Movie+Gallery.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SiGzLWAGckI/AAAAAAAABt8/RDeHkltPpL4/s320/Prayanam+Movie+Gallery.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341747640504054338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;What's the date?... it's May 30th, 2009, the day which I'm treasuring, here in this blogsville, forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I returned from my grandma's town after attending my cousin's engagement at around one in the night. I woke up at eight as I had an appointment with a company which asked me to come down to discuss about my internship. I and my friend Raghu went there, after finishing my work we met Raghu's cousin and his friend there. Raghu's cousin was attending the interview, after the interview we thought of going somewhere as we had nothing to do in the later part of the day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;We zoomed our car breaking traffic rules under the nose of the traffic police to PVR multiplex and booked tickets for two movies, one at 2:30PM and other was at 10:15PM. First movie, Vishal's Pista, was a headache movie to worsen that we got our seats in the first row. I tried to better the situation by observing the activities of the girls in our row though we were separated by a seat number. After the movie we decided to walk to GVK Mall which was 2 Kms away to eat at KFC. After filling ourselves we did window shopping there for more than an hour to beat the heat and also to kill the time. Then we walked to every shopping center for a/c on our way back to PVR. In between these activities Raghu's cousin and his friend whom I never met, talked as if we knew each other from our childhood, we became nice friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Then the final segment of our unplanned day, second movie Prayanam -  a love story in the airport. Right from the first frame of the movie we started laughing, we didn't expect the movie to be a laugh riot. We didn't move  from our seats fearing that we might miss the starting scene of the interval. As the clock was ticking we prayed that movie shouldn't end. Anyways movie ended on happier note, the first song and the background score had such high bass that we felt we were on a dance floor. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;At around 1:30 AM in the night we had late night biryani at Charminar. Finally reached home at 2:30 AM after good 14 and 1/2 hrs. I enjoyed to the core today...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-8051613026361654702?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/8051613026361654702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/05/unplanned-exciting-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8051613026361654702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8051613026361654702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/05/unplanned-exciting-day.html' title='The Unplanned exciting day!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SiGzLWAGckI/AAAAAAAABt8/RDeHkltPpL4/s72-c/Prayanam+Movie+Gallery.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-7025537187038766760</id><published>2009-05-01T02:25:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T02:55:15.319-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me..'/><title type='text'>updates...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://putnam.k12.il.us/Study1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 337px;" src="http://putnam.k12.il.us/Study1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Creative writing is damn difficult anytime, you can't do that regularly unless you feel that you have all time in the world to do so. That's been the case with me these days, not that I'm busy with my course work but been busy with many things around me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Anyways, next week will be final week of the semester, and so have to bury my head into the books now. And a bunch of my friends have their grad walk later next week, so big party is up very soon. And after all that have to start vacating room, pack the bags, board the flight and finally land in India after good 15 months and 11 days.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A handful 82 days in India is what I will be looking forward now, and the scorching summer too. I'm eagerly waiting to rejuvenate my taste buds which have gone bland all these months in US of A.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;And, finally after lots of criticism from my friends about growing long hair ended up having a haircut last week to look like a school boy...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;PS: image is deceptive [:D]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-7025537187038766760?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/7025537187038766760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/05/updates.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7025537187038766760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7025537187038766760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/05/updates.html' title='updates...'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-8770854965647422100</id><published>2009-04-13T01:20:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T05:08:25.599-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>it'll never be same again...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SeMA_j_qYPI/AAAAAAAABrc/C-0LQFydrrE/s1600-h/yurie5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 170px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SeMA_j_qYPI/AAAAAAAABrc/C-0LQFydrrE/s320/yurie5.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324100276476076274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It's not about winning, even losing sometimes is fun, and sometimes narrating your losing is satisfying. People change and even the person whom you think you know the most also change, it hurts to let 'em go, all you have is the fond memories, at least this will not change. Letting go isn't winning or losing, of course emptiness will hurt you. Letting go is courage to accept the change, it is growing up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;How can you know what love is if you've never been hurt once. Love should have been a decision rather than a feeling, because feeling are deceptive in nature and they don't last for long.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You are one of my nicest thoughts...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-8770854965647422100?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/8770854965647422100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/04/itll-never-be-same-again.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8770854965647422100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8770854965647422100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/04/itll-never-be-same-again.html' title='it&apos;ll never be same again...'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SeMA_j_qYPI/AAAAAAAABrc/C-0LQFydrrE/s72-c/yurie5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-8145163340826925122</id><published>2009-04-02T00:26:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T01:45:41.868-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tag zone'/><title type='text'>Tagged</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://hissweetheart.files.wordpress.com/2009/01/tagged.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 288px; height: 340px;" src="http://hissweetheart.files.wordpress.com/2009/01/tagged.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Got tagged after ages, I got tagged by two bloggies Zany and Carpe Diem,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Rules:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;1) Put your iTunes or any other media player on Shuffle...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;2)For each question, forward to next track to answer the question...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;3) Write down the track title, it might be a silly one...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;4) Tag other poor souls...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;a) If someone asks you "are you okay?" you say:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Loose yourself  &lt;/span&gt;(Eminem)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;b) How would you describe yourself?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jai Ho? &lt;/span&gt;(Slum dog M)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;c) What do you like in a girl/guy?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ajnabi Shehar (&lt;/span&gt;Jaan-e-mann)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;d) How do you feel today?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lovesick &lt;/span&gt;(Elize)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;e) What's your life purpose?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Singing Dam Di Da Doo &lt;/span&gt;(Eyeopener)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;f) What's your motto?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My happy ending &lt;/span&gt;(Avril  Lavigne)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;g) What do your friends feel about you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A never ending dream &lt;/span&gt;(cascada)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;h) What do your parents feel about you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ass like that &lt;/span&gt;(Eminem)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;i) What do you think of often?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jumping all over the world &lt;/span&gt;(Scooter)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;j) What is 2+2?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fuck it &lt;/span&gt;(Eamon)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;k) What do you think of your best friend?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;behind these hazel eyes &lt;/span&gt;(Kelly Clarkson)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;l) What is your life story?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;doesn't matter &lt;/span&gt;( Hypasonic)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;m) What do you want to be when you grow up?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;mohabbat apse &lt;/span&gt;( Aa Dekhe Zara)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;n) what do you think when you come across the person you like most?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my sacrifice &lt;/span&gt;(creed)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;o) what will you dance to at you wedding?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sexy naughty bitchy me&lt;/span&gt; (Lene Alexandra)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;p) what will they play at your funeral ?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;insomnia &lt;/span&gt;(Craig David)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;q) what is your hobby?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sutta na milaa &lt;/span&gt;(Zeest)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;r) what is your biggest fear?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;beautiful life &lt;/span&gt;(Ace of base)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;s) what is your biggest secret?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love in the club &lt;/span&gt;(Usher)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;t) what do you want right now?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all the things she said &lt;/span&gt;(Tatu)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;u) what do you think of your friends?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Last goodbye (Avenue)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;v) &lt;/span&gt;when you rush into the washroom, what do you think?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sab khairiyath hai &lt;/span&gt;(13B)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;w) The person you hate the most is in front of you, what will you tell to that person?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;another day in paradise &lt;/span&gt;(Phil Collins)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;x) you have just won a lottery, what will you sing?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;beautiful thing &lt;/span&gt;( Soulcast)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;y) What will you post this as?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Shake that ass girl &lt;/span&gt;(50cent)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I'm done, now Sajesh and Sindhu will do the tag...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&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/21991499-8145163340826925122?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/8145163340826925122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/04/tagged.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8145163340826925122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8145163340826925122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/04/tagged.html' title='Tagged'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-2246401537660512106</id><published>2009-03-15T05:44:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T06:36:45.987-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me..'/><title type='text'>Spring break</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SbzaN5UcA0I/AAAAAAAABoA/m7kdLpm5UBk/s1600-h/spring_break_2009_tshirt-p2354166113307631543lcr_400.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SbzaN5UcA0I/AAAAAAAABoA/m7kdLpm5UBk/s200/spring_break_2009_tshirt-p2354166113307631543lcr_400.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313361592650040130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;We pre-planned many things for spring break but none were executed. We planned to go California for spring break, but very few have come forward for that trip. So, no California, I felt bad that I will not be able to visit California. California, I can definitely say that it's my second home after India. Anyways, then we thought of Colorado springs, and many have okied for this trip. But we couldn't plan for that because of lack of communication among us. So, no Colorado too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;One of my roomie saw a super deal in hertz for car rentals, 60 bucks for 2 days, now that was a sexy deal. So, he rented the car and we haven't decided anything yet. That night we went to Indie dancers (strip bar), that was day one. Day two, we started playing PlayStation, bought 6 controllers and there we go. We never moved from our chairs playing PlayStation. Day three, we decided to go snowboarding somewhere near Chicago. After that we went to Go-karting, then Industrial strip bar and back to our apt. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Even though we couldn't do much in the spring break but we got the much needed break from our off-campus jobs, esply me. I didn't want to take a break but eventually ended up taking break for 5 days, it was a welcome one for me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I'm waiting for May 13 to catch my flight to India, only two more months minus 2 days to go. I can't wait for that day anymore. In the meanwhile I have to get back into the groove of routine life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So, its time to get back to work...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-2246401537660512106?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/2246401537660512106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/03/spring-break.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2246401537660512106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2246401537660512106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/03/spring-break.html' title='Spring break'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SbzaN5UcA0I/AAAAAAAABoA/m7kdLpm5UBk/s72-c/spring_break_2009_tshirt-p2354166113307631543lcr_400.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-1548882444938184347</id><published>2009-03-02T06:36:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T07:36:20.844-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>Words...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://dipsyg.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/_words_can_hurt_or_heal_small.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 288px; height: 336px;" src="http://dipsyg.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/_words_can_hurt_or_heal_small.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Words dominate everything, we use 'em up to express for what we wanna say. For our deepest feelings that we depress doesn't come out that way, the exact way we wanted to express. And in a blink there's always a misinterpretation ambushing. Understanding the words that's not meant to be, the bitterly twisted ones, the meanings which get lost in a flash, never gonna be easy. Words are murderous, they will for sure cut deep into you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Better think more than twice before using 'em, for now and forever. Because the words that has been spoken out loud can never be undone...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-1548882444938184347?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/1548882444938184347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/03/words.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1548882444938184347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1548882444938184347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/03/words.html' title='Words...'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-7619700533054382011</id><published>2009-02-27T09:11:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-28T07:34:41.732-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Romantic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem'/><title type='text'>you...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.craigharper.com.au/uploaded_images/chick-742135.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 425px; height: 282px;" src="http://www.craigharper.com.au/uploaded_images/chick-742135.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;That one smile was enough to show,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; how beautiful the life is with you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; and without you, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I smiled back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&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/21991499-7619700533054382011?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/7619700533054382011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/02/you.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7619700533054382011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7619700533054382011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/02/you.html' title='you...'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-309469367864860863</id><published>2009-02-23T03:30:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T19:24:40.186-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='India'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='oscars'/><title type='text'>Jai Ho!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SaLVzHImNPI/AAAAAAAABk0/JztZx0-oTbg/s1600-h/n760840462_6081869_4938.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 302px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SaLVzHImNPI/AAAAAAAABk0/JztZx0-oTbg/s320/n760840462_6081869_4938.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306038385061016818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I didn't know how to express my happiness while watching the 81st Annual Academy awards show, each award given to slumdog millionaire made me clap and whistle hard. The words of Resul Pookutty "Thank you, Academy, this not just a sound award, this is history being handed over to me", who won Oscar for Sound mixing along with Ian Tapp and Richard Pryke, brought goosebumps to me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And then, Rahman bhai winning ek nahi balki dho' (2) Oscars was truly amazing. His performance on the stage was terrific and I didn't see any nervousness in him, all I could see is the confidence of taking home the Oscars in his eyes. He won two Oscar awards for Best Original score and Best OST (Jai Ho...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Frankly speaking I always have hated Oscar awards judgement for being most unpredictable and unexpected in nature, but for the first time it seemed predictable, in every category where slumdog millionaire was featured it won! except one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And, on the finishing note, I thank Director Danny Boyle who won the best director award for opening the doors for India to win its share of Oscar awards...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript" src="http://widgets.clearspring.com/o/496e682876b273c0/49a2d5a08db7b047/496e682876b273c0/a5c405a9/widget.js"&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-309469367864860863?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/309469367864860863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/02/jai-ho_23.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/309469367864860863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/309469367864860863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/02/jai-ho_23.html' title='Jai Ho!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SaLVzHImNPI/AAAAAAAABk0/JztZx0-oTbg/s72-c/n760840462_6081869_4938.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-8539149379458733595</id><published>2009-02-21T05:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T06:32:28.828-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bollywood'/><title type='text'>Delhi 6</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SZ_jnQPBwsI/AAAAAAAABkA/WyqZfTQITAM/s1600-h/7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 152px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SZ_jnQPBwsI/AAAAAAAABkA/WyqZfTQITAM/s200/7.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305209149578134210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Jiyo A R Rahman Jiyo, Yuraaj got its money because of you and I have no doubts that its gonna be the same with Delhi 6. Awesome background music which is actually a respite to these movies. Anyways, coming to Delhi 6, casting is very much apt and my favorite character was of Rishi Kapoor's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I felt like Delhi 6 was Swades part 2, delhi wala thing is little boring here. Boring climax, there's nothing really exciting in this movie. Now, I don't wanna see anymore communal riots thing or untouchable thing in  movies, yaar cmon India has come long way now. Yeah, there are still such things happening but the intensity is pretty low compared to the early 80's and late 90's, got tired of the bhashans.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I'm desperately waiting for munnabhai kinda flicks. Well, don't worry delhi 6 isn't that bad, we can watch once for sure. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&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/21991499-8539149379458733595?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/8539149379458733595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/02/delhi-6.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8539149379458733595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8539149379458733595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/02/delhi-6.html' title='Delhi 6'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SZ_jnQPBwsI/AAAAAAAABkA/WyqZfTQITAM/s72-c/7.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-6309938235719739210</id><published>2009-02-17T03:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T03:54:00.463-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crap'/><title type='text'>Cross-dominance</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SZp4Wm-DIkI/AAAAAAAABjg/eKx1YTABvjk/s1600-h/Ambidextrous.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SZp4Wm-DIkI/AAAAAAAABjg/eKx1YTABvjk/s200/Ambidextrous.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303683840995435074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.burtmountain.com/images/Ambidextrous.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Long long ago when I was a toddler, I used to use my left-hand for everything. I always had a fascination to be a south-paw. But I donno when I became a right-hander, well I suppose my mom should have had played a major role in that, transforming me into a right-handed. It's considered that left-hand should be used for certain things only and my aunt used to specify it whenever I used to forward my left-hand for anything offered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;One day when I started playing cricket, I was very attracted to left-handed batsmen and bowlers. I tried my hand and was able to bowl and bat left-hand with ease and then I realised I have equal dominance with left-hand too. And, from there on I started enjoying playing both right and left-hand batting and bowling. In football I'm a leftie by default. This makes me unique in someway or another. Ambidexterity is a well known but amazingly rare variant of cross-dominance.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;There are few famous Cross-dominant like me - Leonardo da Vinci, Einstein, Oscar Wilde, Michelangelo, Benjamin Franklin, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi and Shawn Michaels (WWE Superstar) and and most important live example my library sir at school, I saw him writing with both hands.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So, this makes obvious prediction that someone is due becoming famous pretty soon! [;)]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-6309938235719739210?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/6309938235719739210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/02/cross-dominance.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/6309938235719739210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/6309938235719739210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/02/cross-dominance.html' title='Cross-dominance'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SZp4Wm-DIkI/AAAAAAAABjg/eKx1YTABvjk/s72-c/Ambidextrous.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-8877620355619719700</id><published>2009-02-14T12:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T14:07:32.266-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>X O ...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SZcIGAE3nLI/AAAAAAAABjY/avUDB0Z9CuY/s1600-h/happy_valentines_day.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 166px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SZcIGAE3nLI/AAAAAAAABjY/avUDB0Z9CuY/s200/happy_valentines_day.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302715985444707506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Love at times is said to be very difficult thing to find. And, once you find the true and selfless love then it lasts forever, but not everyone is that lucky. This love is a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;fantabulous&lt;/span&gt; experience felt by a person for another person. Love isn't built by a singular feeling but it's built from more than one feeling. Love is the most sweetest thing and also worst nightmare that can hunt you entire life if you don't get accepted. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Well, I don't advise not to look out for your love, who knows you might just get luckier. Anyways, I wish everyone a very happy valentine's day and pray that everyone finds their love and none with a "nightmare!". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Mohabbat mohabbat milegi chal ke do kadam &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Saathi se mil jaayenge &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Baharein phir khil jaayenge &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Chal ke do kadam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;X O X O&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Brutey&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/21991499-8877620355619719700?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/8877620355619719700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/02/x-o.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8877620355619719700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8877620355619719700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/02/x-o.html' title='X O ...'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SZcIGAE3nLI/AAAAAAAABjY/avUDB0Z9CuY/s72-c/happy_valentines_day.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-8403736480427731967</id><published>2009-02-11T06:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T07:14:48.801-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='general'/><title type='text'>Recession time!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.americanconsumernews.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/01/recession.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 594px; height: 387px;" src="http://www.americanconsumernews.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/01/recession.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unemployment has been climbing from ages ago and now it reached its peak at this time. Stock markets have been jittery all over. And, then the official declaration of &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;recession&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every company is practicing cost cutting now, layoffs has became the favorite game of all the companies around the world (hey bud, we have fired 20k! what about you guys, huh? 5k? bullshit man!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is an old joke among economists that states:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A recession is when your neighbor loses his job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A depression is when you lose your job.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Recession is like the period of depression when a guy gets rejected after proposing a girl. It takes time to overcome that. One needs to be in good spirits to survive this crisis period. A recession generally lasts from six to 18 months, lets wait then...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-8403736480427731967?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/8403736480427731967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/02/recession-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8403736480427731967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8403736480427731967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/02/recession-time.html' title='Recession time!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-6736386005002418610</id><published>2009-02-06T03:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T00:33:31.708-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me..'/><title type='text'>Older by one more year...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://assets.babycenter.com/ims/2007/07july/20070716/E002791.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 424px; height: 302px;" src="http://assets.babycenter.com/ims/2007/07july/20070716/E002791.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This day that year ('06) I had no idea that I would grow this old from the day I started scribbling, and gradually days passed and then weeks and now years! I'm 3 years old now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-6736386005002418610?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/6736386005002418610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/02/older-by-one-more-year.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/6736386005002418610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/6736386005002418610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/02/older-by-one-more-year.html' title='Older by one more year...'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-4537529194127925261</id><published>2009-01-19T05:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T07:07:59.171-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the story'/><title type='text'>Dad, I'm in love  (The End)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2311/2127310513_9256d2bd66.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 333px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2311/2127310513_9256d2bd66.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Continued from &lt;a href="http://www.brutescolumn.com/search/label/the%20story"&gt;here...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh! and so the request for Goa..., " I sighed looking at him. I saw aditi and then my eyes traveled to the person who was setting the umbrella. He looked familiar, I walked closer towards him to have a good look. I then looked at the female who was helping him, it was Mayuri  Ram's wife. So, this cutie pie is Ram's huh, good good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ahem!" I stood behind them to surprise them. Mayuri looked back, "Avi... Kya baat hai! this is totally a big surprise, Harini, where's she?"&lt;br /&gt;Ram, hugged me as soon as he saw me. "You haven't changed Avi, you look the same..." , Mayuri said with a smile. "Neither you have," I replied back to her. I gestured Harini and Rohan to come. "Ram, this is my wife Harini and my son Rohan. And, hari, this is Ram and his wife Mayuri, and aditi their daughter..." I said. "How do you know aditi?" Ram asked in surprise. "That's because these both are in the same class..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, so we got company to enjoy the remaining days in Goa. After a week full of enjoyment we headed back to Hyderabad. Ram was in US for 10 years and now he's returned back to India for good and he's staying in Hyderabad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After returning back to home, I remembered that I totally forgot about Rohan's love story. I didn't want to waste any time now. I went to his room and took him on to my lap and said, "Rohan, I wanted to tell you something important. We met aditi's parents right? they are our relatives and Ram is my cousin, he's elder brother to me and so aditi will become..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Will become sister to me..." Rohan shot back to me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm... I never thought that my son's first crush would blow off in this manner...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/21991499-4537529194127925261?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/4537529194127925261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/01/dad-im-in-love-end.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4537529194127925261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4537529194127925261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/01/dad-im-in-love-end.html' title='Dad, I&apos;m in love  (The End)'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2311/2127310513_9256d2bd66_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-2575304406220209487</id><published>2009-01-14T10:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T10:52:07.932-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Jiya Se Jiya</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Check out the new AR Rahman's track &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;jiya se jiya&lt;/span&gt; video where everything in this video is real with exception of AR Rahman frames which is staged. This beautiful track breaks the barriers laid by different religions and castes and preaches oneness among Indians!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Y4Nk_UgHdj0&amp;amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;amp;color2=0xcfcfcf&amp;amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Y4Nk_UgHdj0&amp;amp;color1=0xb1b1b1&amp;amp;color2=0xcfcfcf&amp;amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-2575304406220209487?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/2575304406220209487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/01/jiya-se-jiya.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2575304406220209487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2575304406220209487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/01/jiya-se-jiya.html' title='Jiya Se Jiya'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-8663563328097983521</id><published>2009-01-01T22:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T07:09:10.738-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='timepass'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crap'/><title type='text'>it's all blind, isn't it?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk64/amber121306/love_is_blind_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk64/amber121306/love_is_blind_.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Love is Blind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;origin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From Shakespeare's &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Merchant Of Venice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jessica: "Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                For I am much ashamed of my exchange:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                But love is blind and lovers cannot see&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                The pretty follies that them selves commit;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                For if they could, Cupid himself would blush&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                To see me thus transformed to a boy."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So love is blind? Are you serious? Well, I feel it's not the love which is blind, but it is made blind with lust towards the opposite sex. Don't you think so?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Love does overlook the flaws, but is this overlooking act called blind? Ok, we people whenever come across an odd couple like one is ugly other is much better than the former, blah blah ... we say &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt; love is blind&lt;/span&gt; indeed and there you see the perfect example showing 'em. But excuse me, accepting someone is really such simple, no, it isn't simple, while accepting someone we tend to feel something special about that person. When your soft corner is touched and taken care of, that's the moment you fall in love with that person.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Anyways, these days love has made progress, it isn't blind anymore. It got operated and now its wearing contact lens for the clear vision. Clear vision means, if she finds her perfect match, next would be if parents don't accept then ditch that dumbo. Not only that, Okay, I love this person will I be taken care for sure? Has enough money? future plans? Job stability? Bullshit?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Boohoo! love has indeed made progress, it isn't blind anymore, whatsay? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Or may be, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love is still blind, it's just we started to open our eyes... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;[:O]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&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/21991499-8663563328097983521?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/8663563328097983521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/01/its-all-blind-isnt-it_4249.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8663563328097983521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8663563328097983521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2009/01/its-all-blind-isnt-it_4249.html' title='it&apos;s all blind, isn&apos;t it?'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-1387611414069518383</id><published>2008-12-31T07:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T08:22:24.509-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>closing note - yr 2008...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www1.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/5882809/2/istockphoto_5882809-freeway-exit-sign-year-2009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 380px; height: 246px;" src="http://www1.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/5882809/2/istockphoto_5882809-freeway-exit-sign-year-2009.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Survived another year, with many many things to remember. To start with, my first-ever flight experience which was a mixture of excitement, adventurous and ending on the hating side of flying anymore. The take-off was filled with thrilling experience and the first landing was little frightening, thanks to Air-India for that experience. Then, nearly missed my connecting flight helping the old couple to catch their flight. And then the final connecting flight flew for direct 10hrs which made me hate the travelling thru flights anymore. Now I wish we had a rail or roadway to India from US having a big flyover bridge [:P]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Next noteworthy experience would be the learning phase, learning the American way of living, burgers-pizzas-beers-clubbing-touring-shopping-deals-so on. My first six months stay in Calif. would always be the closest to my heart. I never realised I can cook, and went on to become really good cook. The importance of Friday night parties, not that I didn't know about the importance, but after coming here I realised what is with the Friday-nights! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Parting never became adventurous until cops arrived to stop the parties. And after six glorious months, had to head towards East side, the colder regions of US. The first experience of snowfall was terrific, within an hour everything outside was filled with snow. But started hating the white stuff soon, which makes life difficult. To cross a 10 feet road how much time do you take? keep out from answering the stupid question, my answer would ridicule it. When the road is covered by ice sheet it takes 10 minutes, and you sure to slip while crossing, good lord I didn't slip yet, though couple of my friends have called me to tell their slipping experience (the devil in me kept laughing hearing that...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Anyways, those were few delicious experiences of year '08 and no resolutions this year, and I wish everyone out there a very happy and fabulous year '09.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&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/21991499-1387611414069518383?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/1387611414069518383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/12/closing-note-yr-2008.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1387611414069518383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1387611414069518383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/12/closing-note-yr-2008.html' title='closing note - yr 2008...'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-666153695621045720</id><published>2008-12-18T07:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-19T01:00:52.884-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bollywood'/><title type='text'>Rab ne nahi bana di yeh jodi?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.rabnebanadijodi.net/sites/default/files/images/rnbdj1.preview.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 398px; height: 640px;" src="http://www.rabnebanadijodi.net/sites/default/files/images/rnbdj1.preview.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Rab ne nahi tho aur kaun banaya ye jodiko? Rajiv boltha hai ki usne banaya woh jodi... I came across this blog with a story that has similar situations of that of RNBJ. Now, can that be sheer coincidence? or maybe the story writer of RNBJ got the story thru telepathy, where this writer's mind and Rajiv's mind got into resonance and then RNBJ story got filmed and Rajiv's one got a place in blogorama. Or maybe, Rajiv's story was manipulated from the original which he submitted to  Mirchi Movies Ltd for the story hunt contest 'Pen Uthao Bollywood Hilao'. There can be many speculations, but then even if its true that RNBJ story was lifted from Rajiv's story, what will happen next? will Rajiv be given the credit for the story? or any compensation will be given? will someone help him sue  Yash Raj films?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I don't support anyone but this was an interesting claim from a guy who says that the story was lifted from his work, so thought this can be some hot topic to see where it goes, not much distance though.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, RNBJ has no extraordinary story barring the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;surinder's&lt;/span&gt; character. And, no one knows who is the original creator of the story. Why don't you guys check out for yourself the story written by Rajiv? ( &lt;a href="http://www.vizcreations.com/index.php?item=Blog&amp;amp;blogArticle=Kya%20tum%20mujhse%20pyaar%20karte%20ho"&gt;Kya tum mujhse pyaar karte ho&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-666153695621045720?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/666153695621045720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/12/rab-ne-nahi-bana-di-yeh-jodi.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/666153695621045720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/666153695621045720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/12/rab-ne-nahi-bana-di-yeh-jodi.html' title='Rab ne nahi bana di yeh jodi?'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-3627279862802225923</id><published>2008-12-15T22:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T12:35:50.542-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the story'/><title type='text'>Dad... I'm in love     part #3</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SUcu7ZMIM5I/AAAAAAAABKM/VKXpfmmsQWY/s1600-h/Copy+of+Father-Child1_edited.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 279px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SUcu7ZMIM5I/AAAAAAAABKM/VKXpfmmsQWY/s400/Copy+of+Father-Child1_edited.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280240686024110994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Continued from &lt;a href="http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/12/continued-from-here.html"&gt;here...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I thought I was little overreacting to the situation on-hand. Well, that was so normal, I had my first crush in 2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; grade itself. Anyways, I decided to monitor &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Rohan's&lt;/span&gt; prep for the exams and then after his exams will take him to Goa, May be, then lots of games, movies and all possible things which will help him come out of it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Rohan&lt;/span&gt; came out of his room and asked, "&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dad, if I do well in my exams shall we all go to Goa for vacation?" &lt;/span&gt;I felt confident &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;listening&lt;/span&gt; to that, "&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;haan&lt;/span&gt;, sure thing!" &lt;/span&gt;He went back in to his room and after a little while he shouts from his room, "&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;need your help for preparation&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I shouted back, "&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;OK SIR, anything else?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"No thanks!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;***&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Exams thing never failed to make me nervous but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Rohan&lt;/span&gt; seemed in good condition. I observed that he is good at grasping. I faced real pain while helping him understand few topics here and there, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;esply&lt;/span&gt; that history subject... Phew! I remembered the day of my brother's board exam when he asked my help and I totally scared him and left him nervous. And, then, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Harini&lt;/span&gt; had to go out of town for 3 days to attend her friend's wedding, so cooking section was under my control.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;After a week, at the last day of the exams we caught flight to Goa wasting no time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;***&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;We reached Goa in the evening and we checked in into the hotel room which I booked. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Harini&lt;/span&gt; was happy at the dinner and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Rohan&lt;/span&gt; was beaming. After the dinner we went back to the room and slept. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Harini&lt;/span&gt; slowly rolled over towards me and whispered, "&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;thanks &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Avi&lt;/span&gt;, I wasn't prepared for this holiday and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Rohan&lt;/span&gt; seems to have come over it..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Yeah... and you're looking amazingly sexy today..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Ssshh&lt;/span&gt;... Shut up! ...     I love you.."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"love you too my dear sexy wife..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Next day morning, we all set to go to the beach. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Rohan&lt;/span&gt; was very excited, it's going to be his first visit to the sea. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;We reached beach after 15 minutes drive. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;While I was fixing the Umbrella &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Rohan&lt;/span&gt; pulled me down and pointed towards next umbrella, " &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dad... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Aditi&lt;/span&gt;..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Oh... and who is she?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Dad... she's my...." &lt;/span&gt;He didn't finish the line and I had no difficulty in filling up myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;.&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;..to be continued&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&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/21991499-3627279862802225923?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/3627279862802225923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/12/dad-im-in-love-part-3.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/3627279862802225923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/3627279862802225923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/12/dad-im-in-love-part-3.html' title='Dad... I&apos;m in love     part #3'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SUcu7ZMIM5I/AAAAAAAABKM/VKXpfmmsQWY/s72-c/Copy+of+Father-Child1_edited.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-2639791281053184376</id><published>2008-12-07T16:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T19:09:21.068-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the story'/><title type='text'>Dad... I'm in love - part #2</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/STxjU1nsBFI/AAAAAAAABIE/qCDso_H8rNg/s1600-h/kids3eded.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 198px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/STxjU1nsBFI/AAAAAAAABIE/qCDso_H8rNg/s400/kids3eded.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277202073013453906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Continued from &lt;a href="http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/11/dad-im-in-love-prologue-part-1.html"&gt;here...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I choked at what he said. This didn't shock me a bit, but the guts to spill the beans about your crush, that too, to your dad, I never had guts to do that and I dare to say that no one did that with so much ease. Well, yeah, who is to be blamed, no one, the world is becoming confident day by day, that's the art of survival for you, be confident at any point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ahem...Rohan, that's a good thing, I mean, to be in love. Well, I appreciate that you told me&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and when's your exams coming up&lt;/span&gt;?" I asked him trying hard not to react at the situation. "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;In a month dad..." &lt;/span&gt;He replied. "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Oh, and, how's your preparation going on?" &lt;/span&gt;I asked him as we walked back into the room. "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Really bad dad.., "  &lt;/span&gt;Rohan said while turning on the TV. Now, Now, did I ever told my dad that I was doing bad at preparation during exams time. The idea of cane at the corner of the kitchen room used to run a chill in my spine to say that I was reading for my exams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked out of the room and settled down in the living room couch. Harini joined me, she rested herself on my shoulder and whispered. "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What happened&lt;/span&gt;?", I brushed the hair aside and said, "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Our son is in love, and that's the problem and he isn't doing good with his preparation for exams, and that's it..." &lt;/span&gt;she jumped in shock, "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;holy crap, I mean what the heck, I mean, at this age... GoSH@!".  &lt;/span&gt;It took her couple of minutes to digest that. "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What we gonna do now? how is he gonna come out of it?"&lt;/span&gt; are the questions which I read in her eyes when she was staring at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Well, I think I know what to do, you jus relax, everything is gonna be ok...," &lt;/span&gt;I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I do have a plan and I know how to get Rohan out of this, I hope it works...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;              ...to be continued&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-2639791281053184376?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/2639791281053184376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/12/continued-from-here.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2639791281053184376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2639791281053184376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/12/continued-from-here.html' title='Dad... I&apos;m in love - part #2'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/STxjU1nsBFI/AAAAAAAABIE/qCDso_H8rNg/s72-c/kids3eded.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-2764383145562061985</id><published>2008-12-05T05:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T05:52:42.137-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Let the world slip...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/STkH7bXzImI/AAAAAAAABHM/dab4wlwdvKk/s1600-h/368289174_a60c82b2d5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 303px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/STkH7bXzImI/AAAAAAAABHM/dab4wlwdvKk/s320/368289174_a60c82b2d5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276257155982500450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-2764383145562061985?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/2764383145562061985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/12/let-world-slip.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2764383145562061985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2764383145562061985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/12/let-world-slip.html' title='Let the world slip...'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/STkH7bXzImI/AAAAAAAABHM/dab4wlwdvKk/s72-c/368289174_a60c82b2d5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-4001336701698820559</id><published>2008-11-07T07:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T06:54:06.346-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the story'/><title type='text'>Dad... I'm in love! (prologue) part #1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.martinelkort.com/photographs/coneyisland/puppylove.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 538px;" src="http://www.martinelkort.com/photographs/coneyisland/puppylove.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's eleven in the night, I was watching Harika rolling over the bed without trying to sleep for about 15 minutes. I asked,  "Hari, what happened?" She rolled over and faced towards me. She said, "Rohan's  turning 11 tomorrow, I asked him where shall we go tomorrow, he just walked away into his room and slammed the door. He's behaving like this for past one week, I tried asking what's wrong with him for which he always walks away. I don't know what to do..."&lt;br /&gt;"Ok, I'll talk to him tomorrow, now you sleep honey", I said giving a peck on her lips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked into Rohan's room in the morning to wish him on his b'day. As I entered the room I found him busy in the restroom, I slipped into the couch. Music system was playing &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everynight in my dreams, &lt;/span&gt;"do kids listen to that track, I mean at this age?" I quizzed myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rohan came after five minutes. I took him into my arms and gave a peck on his forehead, "Happy B'day Rohan...", "Thanks Dad..." he said in lower tone. Hari was right, something is wrong with the kid. I took him to the balcony. Now, this is weird how should I ask him what's wrong with him. I know he has my genes, so it turns out to be obvious that he will never tell what's bothering him. I thought of giving it a shot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Rohan, how's is the school going on?"&lt;br /&gt;"Well, not that great"&lt;br /&gt;"Hmm, and what about cricket? mom was saying that you were skipping the coaching classes daily. Is everything fine with you?" I saw Rohan looking at his feet. That says that there is something which is really bothering him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Rohan, ok , leave all that, tell me about you friends. I mean girls (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I winked at him, for which he smiled)"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;Not so lucky dad...", He said with a sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the heck, now that answers few questions for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ok, now tell me what's bothering you? I promise I would try to pull you out of that..."&lt;br /&gt;"You can't dad..."&lt;br /&gt;"Without telling me anything how can you judge that?"&lt;br /&gt;"Hmmm... (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;he took a long pause) &lt;/span&gt;Dad I'm in love with a girl.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;...to be continued&lt;/span&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/21991499-4001336701698820559?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/4001336701698820559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/11/dad-im-in-love-prologue-part-1.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4001336701698820559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4001336701698820559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/11/dad-im-in-love-prologue-part-1.html' title='Dad... I&apos;m in love! (prologue) part #1'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-1190309454710086873</id><published>2008-10-26T08:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T00:30:31.446-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me..'/><title type='text'>The blonde Lady...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SQRsD-SGZwI/AAAAAAAABFI/83TlUhOAUv4/s1600-h/DSC00612.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SQRsD-SGZwI/AAAAAAAABFI/83TlUhOAUv4/s200/DSC00612.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261449080189904642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Why are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Blondies&lt;/span&gt;' always on the receiving end now I know. This is an exclusive coverage of series of events that happened with me in the last 36 hrs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday morning when I was at my work place I got a call from a lady to make a reservation for that evening.&lt;br /&gt;"Days Inn, front desk"&lt;br /&gt;"Hi, this is Melissa and I would like to make a reservation for tonight"&lt;br /&gt;"uh-huh, and what kinda room would that be?"&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;King Size&lt;/span&gt; non-smoking please"&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, it's gonna be 75 plus taxes..."&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;, fine with me..."&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; ma'am, your reservation is confirmed and your confirmation # is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;XXXXXXX&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; hon, we'll be there by 9"&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; ma'am, you have a good day"&lt;br /&gt;"you too..., aah wait what time zone you guys are in?"&lt;br /&gt;"Eastern"&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, thanks"&lt;br /&gt;"your welcome, bye"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, that evening she checked-in at 8:45.&lt;br /&gt;"Hi, I made a reservation this morning with the name Melissa"&lt;br /&gt;"Yup, I was waiting for you..."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh..."&lt;br /&gt;"I need you to sign this for me please...", I said.&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;..., hey do I need to write the car details" (This form asks about car model, license number and stuff...)&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, if you have one.." (I couldn't hold my tongue)&lt;br /&gt;"Well, Oh... you are so funny... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;hehehe&lt;/span&gt;, obviously I have one..."&lt;br /&gt;I gave a toothy smile to her. All seemed fine till then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then after an hour she came down to vending machine for chips packet. My bad luck that chips selection had some problem, so when she inserted coins machine pushed those coins out. She comes to me for help, I went to check the machine. I asked her for the coins and inserted them for the chips. Machine puked out those coins. I told her, "might be some technical problem, I will get that fixed in the morning." That lays chip packet cost was 50 cents, so what this lady suggests me is, "I guess the chips cost is 60 cents, take this dime and see...". For her satisfaction I had to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;exercise&lt;/span&gt; that futile attempt for her. I then asked her to go for other chips which are there. She wanted only lays. Then she asked me for cereals, I ushered her to breakfast hall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next day morning I saw her standing outside under the canopy looking towards McDonald's. After ten minutes she comes in and asks me, "what are those bunch of birds on that tree?" (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;eh? what birds? )&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;gestured&lt;/span&gt; that I didn't knew&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;She gets disappointed. She walks slowly into the breakfast hall and asks an old man who was having his breakfast, "Hey, you know what are those birds on that tree in front of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;McD&lt;/span&gt;?"&lt;br /&gt;"No Idea honey..."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, you too don't know, they are so loud..."&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Well, after having breakfast she checks out. She bid me bye and walked out. After 5 minutes she came in hurriedly and said, "Hon, I forgot my glasses in the room can I have the key for the room.&lt;br /&gt;I said, "ma'am I guess are wearing them on your head"&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, yeah, thanks again hon, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; then bye..."&lt;br /&gt;"Bye.."&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/21991499-1190309454710086873?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/1190309454710086873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/10/blonde-lady.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1190309454710086873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1190309454710086873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/10/blonde-lady.html' title='The blonde Lady...'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SQRsD-SGZwI/AAAAAAAABFI/83TlUhOAUv4/s72-c/DSC00612.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-8706356184824744893</id><published>2008-10-20T12:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T12:27:24.053-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me..'/><title type='text'>My Happening Day!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://luckydayestates.com/Images/LuckyDay%20LOGO%20rev%202007-06-08%20copy.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://luckydayestates.com/Images/LuckyDay%20LOGO%20rev%202007-06-08%20copy.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;WooHOO&lt;/span&gt;! I got a reason to shout that out. You might also shout out like me if what happened to me happens to you. So, why is Oct' 20, 2008 my happening day? well, couple of things happened today for me. Starting with, the research work which was assigned to me by my adviser got approved. My findings were accepted and got nod to go ahead and carry on the research and make it as my major project!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, the other thing which happened was, I won $50 and a free goal setter savings account in the bank where I have my checking a/c.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just 12:15 PM now and still half-a-day to finish, let's see &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;what else&lt;/span&gt; is left for me.&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/21991499-8706356184824744893?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/8706356184824744893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/10/my-happening-day.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8706356184824744893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8706356184824744893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/10/my-happening-day.html' title='My Happening Day!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-7243609929599757375</id><published>2008-10-17T02:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T22:36:06.229-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I.N.D.I.A.N pie series'/><title type='text'>I was dancing with her shadow... #6 (the end...)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SPhH8RAqqNI/AAAAAAAABCc/HcycI0eBK7A/s1600-h/ip.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258031665638975698" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SPhH8RAqqNI/AAAAAAAABCc/HcycI0eBK7A/s320/ip.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Continued from &lt;a href="http://www.brutescolumn.com/search/label/I.N.D.I.A.N%20pie%20series"&gt;here...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sameera left to Hyderabad next day morning. I started missing her badly, I was afraid of this feeling from the experiences I had in my life. I was not sure why this feeling popped out from nowhere, I got confused, I was feeling happy. In the meanwhile I realized that in my last forty eight hours I for once didn't think of Mayuri. There used to be hardly any day without thinking about her. This I thought was a good sign for me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;For once I felt like someone let me free from unseen clutches. I started seeing everything around me newly, felt like I got relieved after ages, I was breathing fresh air even in this warm climate. It felt nice to be back again after one full year of depression. That night Sameera called and we were on phone for almost whole night talking about our childhood days, college days. Before she hung up the phone she said, "Hmm, welcome back Avi... I missed this old Avi for one full year, and come back to Hyderabad... bye, sweet dreams..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I didn't tell her that my project was finished and I got transferred back to Hyderabad. I wanted to give 'em all a surprise, I kept 'em waiting for long. I couldn't go to sleep after she hung up the phone, I wanted to talk to Lucky, I wanted to tell him about my feelings for Sameera. I always felt comfy talking such kinda things with him, as he always took my case seriously. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Avinash... yaar, kaisa hai tu?" Lucky said.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Lucky, sorry yaar, I'm so sorry for my attitude towards you guys, I donno why I was doing this, I started hating myself..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Chup saale, chal koyi baat nahi, abb tu teek hai naa, actually, we all thought of leaving you alone and give some time to come out of that depression, par tu kuch zyaada hi time leliya... we missed you saale... acha chod, ke haal chaal hai, aur tu call be karta hai theen bhaje raatko, kiski biwi margai? wait a sec, wait a sec, who is that girl?" Lucky said. I couldn't believe that, Lucky hasn't changed a bit. He never failed to read my feelings without being told...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Woh kya hai ki..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Haan , haan , I'm listening..",&lt;br /&gt;"I guess I'm in love with ...." I said, didn't know how will he recieve this&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Ladki hi hai naa... confirm?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"abey bakwas bandh karr...."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Phir tu phata phat bol..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Well, I'm love with a girl whom you know, shes from our gang..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Badiya, and lemme guess... Rachana?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Nahi abhi nahi, I'll tell you later...abhi mujhe needh aah rahi hai, will talk to you later...bye..." I said and hung up the phone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;***&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Rachana's b'day is on coming Sunday, I booked my ticket for Saturday night and booked a cab to reach Rachana's house by 11:55 PM. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;***&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;11:55PM, Rachana's Place.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I knew every corner of her home, so I jumped off the wall and sneaked into her room. I hid myself behind the curtains. I heard some noises from behind, it was Lucky followed by Raj, Sameera, and Uma. Lucky was holding a big cake in his hands, and Sameera was holding balloons in her hands. On the stroke of twelve in the clock all shouted "HAPPY B'DAY RACHANAA".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Lights were turned on, Rachana's parents didn't come as they knew what will happen at this time of every year. My eyes fell on the b'day girl, in her light pink night suit she looked so gorgeous. Rachana looked so cute and I just couldn't believe to what was happening to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"This is my first b'day without that idiot!" Rachana said cutting the cake. I came out of the hide and stood right next to her and signalled to be silent. She cut the cake and took a big chunk of it to hit it on the face of the Lucky as he was always the target for the hit at any of us b'day. She hit the cake on my face. She couldn't believe whom she was seeing. She jumped and screamed and hugged me tightly. She never was so loud as today, she is the most silent one in the gang. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm in love with Rachana now....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As the noise levels increased a girl entered the room, oh my gosh! she looked so perfect in every angle. Seeing the unseen drooling in my face Lucky pulled me back and said, "she's Rachana's cousin aur woh committed maal hai..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Puri, this is Avinash..." Rachana introduced me to her cousin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Oh! so you are that missing guy... glad to meet you finally..." she said giving me a hug. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I winked at Lucky while she gave me a hug...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;the end... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;you're the life to my soul, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;you're the hope to my trust, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;you're still in my heart when I run out of my breathe,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"  &gt;you're everything...&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/21991499-7243609929599757375?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/7243609929599757375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/10/i-was-dancing-with-her-shadow-6-end.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7243609929599757375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7243609929599757375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/10/i-was-dancing-with-her-shadow-6-end.html' title='I was dancing with her shadow... #6 (the end...)'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SPhH8RAqqNI/AAAAAAAABCc/HcycI0eBK7A/s72-c/ip.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-1190817725874177880</id><published>2008-10-16T02:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T09:24:11.178-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='timepass'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tidbits'/><title type='text'>English at its best!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.merchantnavyofficers.com/BritishIndia2/geoff/Ind_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px" alt="" src="http://www.merchantnavyofficers.com/BritishIndia2/geoff/Ind_1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I got this mail from my little bro last night and I couldn't stop myself from laughing after reading this mail. It was about instances where Butler English was used... I thought of sharing the lines which made me laugh harder...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was very hot in the afternoon when the teacher entered the classroom... She tried to turn on the fan, but there was some tech problem. and then she said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;' why is fan not oning' (ing form of on)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow call ur parents especially mother and father ??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My manager started like this&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Hi, I am Madhu, Married with two kids'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'will u hang that calender or else I'll HANG MYSELF'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I wanted to know what exactly was Butler English, so did some googling and came to know that servants who worked under Britishers used to pick few words from their masters while they were communicating to other people, and then they try using the words which they understood to communicate with their masters. And, thus, the language used by the servants, butlers in those days is referred as "&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Butler English."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&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;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;P.S: Have fun reading this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SPbnct7swwI/AAAAAAAABBw/bLHQUAk2bc4/s1600-h/image001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257644095553979138" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 441px; HEIGHT: 342px" height="400" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SPbnct7swwI/AAAAAAAABBw/bLHQUAk2bc4/s400/image001.jpg" width="463" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-1190817725874177880?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/1190817725874177880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/10/english-at-its-best.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1190817725874177880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1190817725874177880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/10/english-at-its-best.html' title='English at its best!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SPbnct7swwI/AAAAAAAABBw/bLHQUAk2bc4/s72-c/image001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-4312519129698226555</id><published>2008-10-07T05:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T05:43:43.828-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crap'/><title type='text'>What If....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.gapingvoid.com/fail444456.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 320px;" alt="" src="http://www.gapingvoid.com/fail444456.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I always had this feeling since my teenage, what if I had a chance to go back to my school? Ok, lets say I had the chance, well, I would go back and blast bombs in the bathroom and then jump over the wall and go for trekking over the small mountain which is behind my school. And then what else would I wanna do? yes! we didn't had co-ed till my batch passed out, so, I would probably make hell lot of girlfriends and bully them around. And what next? well, then would finish off all the hardy boys books which I couldn't finish. &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;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ok next desire, what if I had a chance to act in movies? well well, that's one thing I always dreamt of, so, I would act with only specific heroines, list would have preity, deepthi padukone, amisha patel, mallaika arora, sonali bendre. and so on and will replace Emraan Hasmi in all of his movies!&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;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And, what if had a chance to a kiss a girl?? .... ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-4312519129698226555?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/4312519129698226555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/10/what-if.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4312519129698226555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4312519129698226555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/10/what-if.html' title='What If....'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-3441001878188943283</id><published>2008-10-03T00:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T00:37:15.936-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='timepass'/><title type='text'>Chess Titans...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.kevinowens.org/uploaded_images/vista-chess-titans-792326.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.kevinowens.org/uploaded_images/vista-chess-titans-792326.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.kevinowens.org/uploaded_images/vista-chess-titans-792326.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Muhaha!! Computer is such a dumb thing to play with especially a game like chess. I lost first two games because of the complacence and then when I decided to stop the losing spree next game was a draw. Even though I defeated it with only King and Queen left from my side, it said taking the stats this game would be considered a draw... ( a what?? bullshit). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;By now I understood the computers strategy and another game started. This time fulltoo concentration not one soldier to be lost. Well, the computers strategy was simple entice into a trap and then attack in the next second making you yell out "shit man! how didn't I notice that." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Anyways computer tried all its tricks on me but had to lose to me finally. I forgot something, I said computer was a dumb, now ask me why, why because when one of my soldiers reached other end I was offered a queen , a bishop, and a knight to choose. Even though my queen was still there I chose queen which I was offered instantly, hahaha... bloody hell!!! and the victory!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-3441001878188943283?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/3441001878188943283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/10/chess-titans.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/3441001878188943283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/3441001878188943283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/10/chess-titans.html' title='Chess Titans...'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-858550555928237988</id><published>2008-09-29T05:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T00:24:23.000-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I.N.D.I.A.N pie series'/><title type='text'>I was dancing with her shadow    #5</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SOCpicXaKhI/AAAAAAAAA_Y/y330by5Ecno/s1600-h/ip_4.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251383574709021202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SOCpicXaKhI/AAAAAAAAA_Y/y330by5Ecno/s320/ip_4.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Continued from &lt;a href="http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/09/i-was-dancing-with-her-shadow-4.html"&gt;here... &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;After one year...&lt;/em&gt;&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;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I was in the middle of the meeting in the conference hall, looking around the faces of the new recruits who were listening with all their ears and eyes open. I saw myself in their position couple of years back when I attended my first meeting. It was Friday afternoon and I haven't planned anything for the weekend yet. I browsed for the movies which were releasing today, and I see all no good kind flicks. Now that movie plan is flushed I could just think of my cosy sofa where I could just slip into sleep in no time. &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;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;***&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It was twelve in the night and my mobile was buzzing restlessly. I saw an anonymous number in the caller ID of my mobile...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"hello??"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Many many happy returns of the day idiot...", &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Sameera, wow, that was a surprise and thanks for the wishes...", I said.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"And, so, I wouldn't ask how are you because you sound to be be fine...", sameera said in lower tone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Hmmm, can we talk about this later and how are you guys? I guess I missed many things in this one year...", I said in a guilty tone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Well, all are fine and healthy and don't worry you didn't miss many things as everyone have become busy with their own jobs, now that we all are not in one team after you left to b'lore..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"oh ok, and... 'sup for the weekend?", I asked trying to change the topic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"ahh... well, I'm coming to b'lore to meet a client over there and will have to come back to Hyderabad next day morning..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Oh, that's a breezy trip... and will you be having time to meet me?" I asked.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Oh shut up! you idiot, I thought you have changed but you proved me wrong and yes sir! I have time for you!... (&lt;em&gt;pause for few secs)... &lt;/em&gt;Avi, sorry yaar, I was so rude on you, sorryyy... "&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"That's alright I understand... so, tell me your schedule tomorrow, so that I can figure out where to go ... and teri flight ka time kya hai I'll come for the pick-up..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Haan, 9 AM and meeting is scheduled at 11:30, probably up to 1..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"so, you are free after 1 ..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"I can't say, we might wrap up early also... anyways call karlunginaa... aur missed you so much dumbo..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"yea... me too, three, four, five and a zillion..." I said with a smile on my face.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Hahaha... tu sudrega nahi... acha chal main rakhthi hunn, have to finish something, I can't wait to see you tomorrow and good night and many happy returns of the day once again...."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Thank you , thank you, ok then cya tomorrow... bye , good night."&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;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;After that call, I felt like some kind of happiness creep into me, a feeling that I was searching for one whole year.&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;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I reached the airport at 8:55 and waited for Sameera at the arrivals lobby. Last night Lucky, Raj , Uma, and Rachana called one by one to wish me and I was wondering since last night how did I survive this one year without seeing them for once. &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;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I was trying to call Sameera to tell her where I was, I saw a lady waving at me from distance. I couldn't recognise her. As the distance reduced I saw a familiar face, she was Sameera, she has changed so much that I could hardly recognise her, her new hairdo, her dressing style, I mean literally everything looked new in her.&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;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;She came close and we hugged, tears rolled down our eyes. I drew back and wiped her tears, we walked out of the airport. We drove to a restaurant for breakfast and then I took her to the office where she had the meeting. I said I would wait for her in the lobby for her till she finishes her meeting. After she went in I slipped into the sofa and started rewinding back thinking what happened in the last one hour. &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;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I feel I'm in love with Sameera...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;... to be continued&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/21991499-858550555928237988?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/858550555928237988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/09/i-was-dancing-with-her-shadow-5.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/858550555928237988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/858550555928237988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/09/i-was-dancing-with-her-shadow-5.html' title='I was dancing with her shadow    #5'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SOCpicXaKhI/AAAAAAAAA_Y/y330by5Ecno/s72-c/ip_4.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-4752847041291446096</id><published>2008-09-27T01:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T19:48:35.419-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='timepass'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crap'/><title type='text'>My sexy wife...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SN3MMiY3UrI/AAAAAAAAA_M/Yn8WczDvE-g/s1600-h/wife.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SN3MMiY3UrI/AAAAAAAAA_M/Yn8WczDvE-g/s320/wife.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250577256345457330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;There was this stupid conversation that happened when I was in amazon.com imagining the sexy colleagues as our gonna be wives in the break...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Avinash: duDes, I got a doubt...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chandu: whats that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Avinash: Well, will our beautiful wives maintain their fig after the marriage?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kumar: Why wouldn't they?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chandu: Oh shit, I doubt so Avinash...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Avinash: Oye kumar, make a new medicine so that they maintain their&lt;br /&gt;figs, I don't want Anu to gain weight after marriage...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kumar: That's not possible dude... side effects are very heavy, so we&lt;br /&gt;shud take care of their diet...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shankar: there seems to be no prob with madhu, sravs or sangeetha, I&lt;br /&gt;guess its about anu....lol...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Avinash: Yes I'm talking about anu so wat, did u foresee how other&lt;br /&gt;girls will be in future&gt;?? eh??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kumar: Got an idea... we will make them join gym, and make sure that&lt;br /&gt;they go to gym daily ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Avinash: Genius says so, but idiot whos gonaa make breakfast ,tea ,&lt;br /&gt;coffee, ..dammit I cant imagine myself struggling in the kitchen....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kumar: but they are our loved ones bud, so that shudnt be a big deal&lt;br /&gt;helping them in kitchen...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Avinash: you knw wat, all men fear this only, wait till u get married ,&lt;br /&gt;you'll knw....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-4752847041291446096?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/4752847041291446096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/09/my-sexy-wife.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4752847041291446096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4752847041291446096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/09/my-sexy-wife.html' title='My sexy wife...'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SN3MMiY3UrI/AAAAAAAAA_M/Yn8WczDvE-g/s72-c/wife.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-7432851966917325672</id><published>2008-09-19T03:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T00:38:12.167-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I.N.D.I.A.N pie series'/><title type='text'>I was dancing with her shadow... #4</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SNNkBIsdfYI/AAAAAAAAA-M/mqnyHGPYMVg/s1600-h/pis.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247647961493372290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SNNkBIsdfYI/AAAAAAAAA-M/mqnyHGPYMVg/s320/pis.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;continued from &lt;a href="http://hunky4gals.blogspot.com/2007/06/i-was-dancing-with-her-shadow-3.html"&gt;here...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/RnSSX-qgyNI/AAAAAAAAAWo/xsOIZyoQaFc/s1600-h/pis.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;I always had feelings for Mayuri since my school days, but never had an opportunity to express in front of her. But then I was very sure that she didn't had feelings for me, so I preferred to be silent lover of her. I shared this with Sameera as she knew me much better than the remaining ones. Well, she stopped talking to me after that slap incident a month ago at Eat Street. I don't know what was Raj up to and what happened to his love story. I locked up myself from the outside world and also from my lovable friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucky, Uma, Rachana, Raj and Sameera tried to talk to me many a times in this one month but I just walked away from them. I didn't know why was I behaving like that, I was literally falling into some kinda rut, to stay alone and suffer. I was hating this, but I didn't know how to shatter this stupid feeling of mine which was killing me. Even mom was&lt;br /&gt;worried with my weird behavior, she tried asking me what was wrong with me, but I just used to walk inside my room and lock myself inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was really difficult to stop thinking of Mayuri. Whenever someone used to talk about her I used to get goosebumps, used to feel uncomfortable because I always wanted her to be mine. I don't know how could I stop thinking of her, stop getting emotional when I see her talking to other guys. I experienced all these when Raj said he was in love with Mayuri. Sameera always told me that if she is yours then come what may she will be yours at any cost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next day When I walked into my cabin I saw a letter on my desk, an invitation as a project manager at Bangalore branch, as that branch's project manager was going to have a baby next month. I readily accepted that to see some change in me thinking that this could pull me out of my depression. I flew to b'lore on Sunday without informing any of my friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="FONT-FAMILY: courier new; TEXT-ALIGN: right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to be continued... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-7432851966917325672?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/7432851966917325672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/09/i-was-dancing-with-her-shadow-4.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7432851966917325672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7432851966917325672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/09/i-was-dancing-with-her-shadow-4.html' title='I was dancing with her shadow... #4'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SNNkBIsdfYI/AAAAAAAAA-M/mqnyHGPYMVg/s72-c/pis.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-4068183395859831190</id><published>2008-09-15T03:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T04:01:25.939-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem'/><title type='text'>L I F E</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i.ehow.com/images/GlobalPhoto/Articles/2170400/baby4month-main_Full.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i.ehow.com/images/GlobalPhoto/Articles/2170400/baby4month-main_Full.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;When I opened my eyes for the first time,&lt;br /&gt;I didn't see you.&lt;br /&gt;When I started taking my first breathe,&lt;br /&gt;I didn't feel you.&lt;br /&gt;When I made my first friend,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I didn't recognise you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;But as my needs and expectations grew up with the age, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I came to know you, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I'm afraid of you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Now that I know you I expect you to be short and merry one...&lt;/span&gt;&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/21991499-4068183395859831190?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/4068183395859831190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/09/l-i-f-e.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4068183395859831190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4068183395859831190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/09/l-i-f-e.html' title='L I F E'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-7449413756125762754</id><published>2008-09-14T01:32:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T10:25:21.089-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me..'/><title type='text'>Life in US II</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/a/a8/Hurricane_Ioke,_MODIS_image_on_August_24,_2006,_2155_UTC.jpg/235px-Hurricane_Ioke,_MODIS_image_on_August_24,_2006,_2155_UTC.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/a/a8/Hurricane_Ioke,_MODIS_image_on_August_24,_2006,_2155_UTC.jpg/235px-Hurricane_Ioke,_MODIS_image_on_August_24,_2006,_2155_UTC.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Back after ages to tell about life in US of A. So, many of you know that I have left Calif. and shifted my base to Indy., if you don't, well, you know now. I miss Calif. badly, I hope to get back to Calif. after my grad. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This incident happened during my first shopping experience at a food-mart. I and my room-mates went to a food-mart to buy groceries. One guy was searching for curd in frozen food section, I found one for him and showed it to him, he says this is not curd, this is yogurt. I said it was just the plain one and not the flavored one so it must the one we are searching for. He didn't agree with me and he went to a white lady and asked where can he find curd? she was like, "find what?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Then a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;desi &lt;/span&gt;uncle who was watching him came to his rescue and explained him that we call curd as &lt;em&gt;yogurt &lt;/em&gt;here. And, in another incident my friend asked a cashier for a plastic cover to stuff in his books which he bought there, cashier didn't get him what was he asking. By then I got familiar with few of the words what to use and what not to use, thanks to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;liquor&lt;/span&gt; store where I worked. I went there and asked for a &lt;em&gt;plastic bag&lt;/em&gt;, which the cashier gave with a smile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Anyways, will tell few more things next time. As of now lifestyle and climate and also environment have slided big time for me, moving from west to east, from hotter part of the US to gonna be coldest part in the couple of months from now. And Hurricane Ike is gonna visit my place sometime next week. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-7449413756125762754?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/7449413756125762754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/09/life-in-us-iii.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7449413756125762754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7449413756125762754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/09/life-in-us-iii.html' title='Life in US II'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-2618926023317476743</id><published>2008-09-10T03:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T04:36:50.608-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my creations'/><title type='text'>My angel - the end</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SMeGWPy1GAI/AAAAAAAAA9o/R7clDOJT29I/s1600-h/ana_ivanovic_sensual.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244308007851202562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SMeGWPy1GAI/AAAAAAAAA9o/R7clDOJT29I/s320/ana_ivanovic_sensual.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;continued from &lt;a href="http://hunky4gals.blogspot.com/2008/06/my-angel-4.html"&gt;here...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Avinash without saying any word paces to home. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&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;Ruchi was feeling nervous and peeping into the window to see if Avinash has arrived from office or not. Abhi started lunching and was staring at Ruchi in a very uncomfortable manner. Even the maid didn't come today. Ruchi pretended to be busy checking some old mails. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&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;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Ruchi..." Abhi called. A sudden chill ran through her spine hearing that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Yeah? you need anything?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Nope, but I feel odd eating alone. Why don't you join me?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"No, that's alright, Avi has started from the office he might be here in any moment..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Okay.."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&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;Avinash was stuck in the traffic and was very worried about Ruchi. He didn't wanna press the panic button calling her. He tried to calm down and figure what he should do. He reached for his pistol in his briefcase, loaded it and just waited to reach home as soon as possible.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&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; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ruchi was dusting the mail shelf, she finds her slam-book there. She sits back in the sofa and starts reading the pages. Her mind got deviated from the present situation. She was busy reading the pages and Abhi drops into the sofa beside. He grabs her finger to check the cut, Ruchi shouts at that. Just then Avinash comes in with his pistol. Ruchi runs to Avinash and hugs him tightly. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Whoah!!..hang on, .... let me explain...", Abhi said with his hands up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"What you wanna explain..huh..??"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"That I'm Abhiram...and..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"And... and what, he was staring at me in an uncomfortable manner avi... " Ruchi said trembling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Avinash gets fumed up listening to that and he punches Abhi's cheek. Abhi drops to the floor. Just then Ruchi's sight falls on the slam-book beside Abhi. She picks the slam-book and reads the page which was half open. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Shit! you bloody bugger!! why do have to do all this...see now what happened." Ruchi lends her hand to Abhi to get up from the floor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Sorry yaar, I didn't know that this prank would go this far..." Abhi said falling into the sofa.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Avinash got confused about what was happening.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Hi, I guess I'm missing something here..." Avinash asked Ruchi looking at her in confused manner.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ruchi chuckles and says, "Well, Avinash this Abhiram and Abhi this is Avi, my sweet hubby. And Avinash this dumbo was my classmate back in school days and then after our 12th class this idiot got vanished and we met only this day. I guess Abhi would have died in your hands if I didn't see Abhi's page in that slam-book."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Wonderful, and you made me hit him hard..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"That's alright bro, it was my fault here. I got transferred to Hyderabad RadioMirchi from Mumbai. I got promoted as Station manager. I saw this devils pic and then came to know that you guys wedding anniversary and also her b'day was today, so I thought of giving a surprise with a prank. Anyways, I'm sorry for all the things happened."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Beware of my hubby abhi..." Ruchi smiles and hugs Avinash.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Yeah ..yeah..." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;***&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The End&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-2618926023317476743?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/2618926023317476743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/09/my-angel-end.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2618926023317476743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2618926023317476743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/09/my-angel-end.html' title='My angel - the end'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SMeGWPy1GAI/AAAAAAAAA9o/R7clDOJT29I/s72-c/ana_ivanovic_sensual.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-4792764953688198638</id><published>2008-09-02T05:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T06:39:39.508-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crap'/><title type='text'>Wish making made easy!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SL0JlGD4IqI/AAAAAAAAA6U/cALwCP19W58/s1600-h/287937036_ce1cd7442b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241356074215809698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SL0JlGD4IqI/AAAAAAAAA6U/cALwCP19W58/s200/287937036_ce1cd7442b.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Make a wish on the fallen eyelash... poof! there it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;goes&lt;/span&gt; into the sky to carry your wish to whoever is gonna fulfill your wish. Till my 12&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; class I didn't knew that it was a eyelash and not some kinda fur that got stuck beneath the eye which is used for wishing by closing your beautiful and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;notorious&lt;/span&gt; eyes. Anyways better late than never I now know it's the eyelash and not some dusty fur. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;These days I'm going &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt;' some confusion which is related to this wish making mechanism. Why can't the other parts of the body hair can be used for making a wish, that too closing your eyes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When you take head bath, its a free fall of hair for most of us, and then when you poke inside your nose, hair from the nostril and so on so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;forth. So, guys! collect all your fallen hair from every part of your body and start clearing your wishlist, why wait for the fallen eyelash? Basically we don't discriminate anything right... [;)]&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/21991499-4792764953688198638?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/4792764953688198638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/09/wish-making-made-easy.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4792764953688198638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4792764953688198638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/09/wish-making-made-easy.html' title='Wish making made easy!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SL0JlGD4IqI/AAAAAAAAA6U/cALwCP19W58/s72-c/287937036_ce1cd7442b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-1648018785849112366</id><published>2008-08-23T00:18:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T03:32:12.155-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me..'/><title type='text'>Calif.!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SK-VaHrJfzI/AAAAAAAAA6M/QgryMH7-BYg/s1600-h/Untitled.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SK-VaHrJfzI/AAAAAAAAA6M/QgryMH7-BYg/s200/Untitled.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237569167624339250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My heart is heavy,I don't feel like leaving you.&lt;br /&gt;You brought a broad smile on my face when I came to you.&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't a dream, you embraced me with chilly breeze which brought shiver in my spine, brought goosebumps, said to me that it wasn't a dream...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You showed me why you were called sexy,&lt;br /&gt;you confronted me with your other mates who reside with you,&lt;br /&gt;you taught me everything which I was unaware so far,&lt;br /&gt;you shared everything with me with love...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The destiny is so cruel,&lt;br /&gt;and so I'm helpless.&lt;br /&gt;When did this 6 months pass away?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I'll miss you, calif.&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/21991499-1648018785849112366?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/1648018785849112366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/08/calif.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1648018785849112366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1648018785849112366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/08/calif.html' title='Calif.!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SK-VaHrJfzI/AAAAAAAAA6M/QgryMH7-BYg/s72-c/Untitled.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-89982704542810169</id><published>2008-08-14T08:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T09:43:55.878-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='India'/><title type='text'>Jai Hind!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/media/images/44057000/jpg/_44057996_mount_salute.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://news.bbc.co.uk/media/images/44057000/jpg/_44057996_mount_salute.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the eve of the Independence day of India I along with fellow Indians salute the Indian flag. And then we even salute Abhinav for winning the most craved gold medal at Beijing olympics after a wait of good 108 years. And for once all the Indians around the world have uploaded that historic event video in their fav. videos in orkut expressing their happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still hate that old man, Mr. Gandhi for what he has done in Bhagat singh's case. But then I'll admire him for one thing for sure, he was able to unite the people of India to stand together to kick the brit. asses out of our country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the other day when I was at the work place one of the white customers asked me which part of India I was from, I said south. He then said, "Oh, you guys don't go well along with North guys right?". I said to myself, "yes, it's there, isn't it?", I asked him who told him all that. He replied back, "My Indian colleague". "And where is he from?", I asked. He said, "Gujarat". That's it I guessed it right, whoelse in the world will say like that about our country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I donno what's wrong with these gujju idiots. because they are the richie riches it doesn't mean that don't belong to India and just belong to Gujarat, and where the heck is Gujarat? isn't it supposed to be in India? I myself was in a such kinda scene once. In my first semester here in calif. on the day one one guy was introducing himself to everyone. And there was this guy from Pakistan, so when they both shook the hands, paki asked that Indian stud, "You from India?". He replied back, " No, I'm from GUJARAT!"&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/21991499-89982704542810169?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/89982704542810169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/08/jai-hind.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/89982704542810169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/89982704542810169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/08/jai-hind.html' title='Jai Hind!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-4510101127384692140</id><published>2008-07-30T10:26:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T11:37:31.067-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tidbits'/><title type='text'>The e-love...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc14/Andrewww321/tech-love.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc14/Andrewww321/tech-love.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Romeo007: Hey Juliet, I wanna tell u sth... donno hw...&lt;br /&gt;Juliet143: r u in luv with me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... long pause...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Romeo007: Well, yea...&lt;br /&gt;Juliet143: oh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... long pause...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Juliet143: do u think its possible?... we nvr met each other all these years of our friendship... and many things matter rome... srry...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.... long pause...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Juliet143: rome u there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.... long pause and no reply from romeo anymore...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why don't I have any gf yet? all my friends have one, and I have none...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;2 years later...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Romeo007: I love you rose...&lt;br /&gt;Rosedawson: love u too dawg...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rosedawson: hahaha.. plzz no ....stop... hahhaha... I'll die... stop tickling me... rome, plzzz..hahahaha....&lt;br /&gt;Romeo007: I wanna dance with you...&lt;br /&gt;Rosedawson: Sure honey...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rome is in calif. and Rose is in canada...then hows this possible?.. [ ;)]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, our rome develops a tool which allows him to express his love by touching his gf and do things which he wants to from wheres he sitting , same with rose... but how is possible u mite ask...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well he places two robos one at each end and the controls, controlling through Internet protocol... what else, he controls the action of the robo and does all the things he can with his gf... :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOL... well that's one of the project proposal of one my chinky classmates... all the seriousness that surrounded us in that class vanished at once...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways that one day I felt like all were busy scripting their own love stories, I heard news from all around about few of my friends falling in love, one is getting married to her bf... but what excites me is, the girl who I thought will be the last person on the Earth to fall in love too fell in love...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-4510101127384692140?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/4510101127384692140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/07/e-love.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4510101127384692140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4510101127384692140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/07/e-love.html' title='The e-love...'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-2010236711970371407</id><published>2008-07-23T09:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T00:38:13.066-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me..'/><title type='text'>another star added to our shoulder tabs!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SIc4dxt3yZI/AAAAAAAAA1w/yAacZ0_tcoU/s1600-h/DSCN1592.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SIc4dxt3yZI/AAAAAAAAA1w/yAacZ0_tcoU/s200/DSCN1592.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226207976799848850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SIc3oOKrM4I/AAAAAAAAA1o/f9UafWReM90/s1600-h/DSCN1570.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SIc3oOKrM4I/AAAAAAAAA1o/f9UafWReM90/s200/DSCN1570.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226207056723915650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SIc2AvGMeUI/AAAAAAAAA1g/eNB5wujS6o4/s1600-h/DSC00333.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SIc2AvGMeUI/AAAAAAAAA1g/eNB5wujS6o4/s200/DSC00333.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226205278857099586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, &lt;a href="http://hunky4gals.blogspot.com/2008/04/hungama-at-stevenson-blvd.html"&gt;then&lt;/a&gt; cop issued us a ticket of severe warning, and now a notice being served for quitting the apartment or permanently perform covenant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Covenants violated: resident has received numerous complaints regarding loud noise after quiet hours. Security has responded on several occasions. (Big Fat Lie... he just came once! and said start leaving else 911 will come...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reporting Party Name : Jennifer of apt #265&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nature of call: Jennifer complaining about "some party at apt #264, loud stumping, yelling"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was more disgusting was Jennifer's neighbor some chinkky also could hear noises... I swear we tried our level best not to cause any kinda of disturbances...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then after this drama we had another party to attend that night, so we were partying whole night came back to our aprt at 5:30 in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways that was fun and I'm waiting for more stars to be added!&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/21991499-2010236711970371407?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/2010236711970371407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/07/another-star-added-our-shoulder-tabs.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2010236711970371407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2010236711970371407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/07/another-star-added-our-shoulder-tabs.html' title='another star added to our shoulder tabs!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SIc4dxt3yZI/AAAAAAAAA1w/yAacZ0_tcoU/s72-c/DSCN1592.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-1935049005082425783</id><published>2008-07-13T10:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T20:13:44.496-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my creations'/><title type='text'>My angel - 4</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/24/53298080_0cd11cf6a7.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/24/53298080_0cd11cf6a7.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Continues from &lt;a href="http://hunky4gals.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-angel-3.html"&gt;here...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ruchi pulls back her hand and goes inside the bedroom to get a band-aid. Abhi was still standing there and staring at her. Ruchi started feeling uncomfortable with his presence now. Abhi tries to break the silence by asking if anything else is left for chopping. Ruchi nods her head giving a no sign. After sometime she starts  cooking. Ruchi requests Abhi to go and sit in the living room as she can't cook in someones presence. Abhi gives a smile and leaves the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Deepthi left the office Avinash suddenly remembers that he had make a call to Ruchi. He reaches for his mobile and his boss knocks the door. Avinash goes and receives him. His boss wanted some information regarding the project they were planning for the next quarter. The meeting starts getting draggy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ruchi finished cooking. She served lunch on the dining table. She called abhi, but abhi wasn't answering. Ruchi turned to get her mobile, abhi was standing right behind her. Ruchi started feeling nervous with his actions. She reached her mobile and dialed Avinash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hello Avi..."&lt;br /&gt;"Hmm... you woke up now?"&lt;br /&gt;"how busy are you?"&lt;br /&gt;"why? what happened ruchi?"&lt;br /&gt;"Abhi is here to meet us, and I would like you to be here as soon as possible.."&lt;br /&gt;"Abhi? Who's abhi?"&lt;br /&gt;Deepthi just then enters the cabin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Avinash, I have served lunch and we are waiting for you. Please try to understand your presence is required... please.."&lt;br /&gt;"Ok, Ok I'm starting ... "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After hunging the phone Avinash logs off the system and packs his belongings to go back to home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's abhi doing there?", Deepthi asked.&lt;br /&gt;"Who's abhi? your boyfriend right??"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... to be continued&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/21991499-1935049005082425783?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/1935049005082425783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/06/my-angel-4.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1935049005082425783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1935049005082425783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/06/my-angel-4.html' title='My angel - 4'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-1456260448335248970</id><published>2008-07-07T04:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T07:52:50.301-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='timepass'/><title type='text'>so when does a girl realise its love?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.animasia.net/images/584.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.animasia.net/images/584.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So after watching Jaane tu for second time this topic  popped up. I was searching for perfect paradigms  which  would  show the naked meaning  for  the words spoke by a boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's always said that words spoken by women have many untold implications and would never understand them even if the earth comes to an end. Ok, I agree, yea sometimes if not all the time. But what about men then? are they really that straight forward and everyones gets it what they actually meant when they say something?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well given any situations men are straight forward except for one. And that one situation is when they having a crush or have fallen in love. They start speaking poetically (surprisingly) and blah blah, well, you guys are pretty smart to fill it for yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now let's examine the things he does when he wants to express his love to a girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Scene # 1 , take 1, camera rolling and action!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Let's go into a classroom and see... There's pappu who has a special interest in aditi. Now entire class knows this but aditi and the girls in the class donno this, only boys know this. You may say entire class consists of both girls and boys, yea but it came in a flow so don't have to stress your brain on that. Anyways coming back to the scene... Now after lot of sweating and hard work aditi notices pappu after realizing that pappu is her classmate. So pappu starts talking regularly about aditi with his good-for-nothing gang. This useless gang starts teasing pappu, and comment on aditi whenever and wherever she's seen. Then as the days pass by gang stops teasing and pappu's feelings for her is  piling up day by day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So after sometime pappu and aditi become friends. In the mean time he finds and adds aditi in all the possible virtual social networks found on the Internet. And then Pappu starts flirting saala!... after endless flirting, this flirting thing vanishes and pappu starts taking her damn seriously. His useless gang every time they meet they ask hows aditi and how much did he progress in letting her know his feelings for her. And then pappu decides to win her one day and there he takes off ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Scene #13, take 6, camera rolling ... action!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So our pappu now trys to get sympathy from aditi saying he doesn't have any girlfriends yet (signal 1), &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Aditi: Oh pappu, it's ok, you'll definitely find one....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pappu: Do you think any girl will fall for me? (signal 2)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Aditi: Y not? (Here aditi smells something is wrong and she bails out from there)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Scene #16, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pappu writes his first testimonial to aditi in orkut. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Scene #18, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pappu writes one more saying, he's so lucky to find her ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Scene #19,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pappu writes one more, this time he says, donno how it could have been if he didn't had a friend like her... (signal # whatever)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Now aditi, smiles reading all this stuff, saying so good friend I have... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Scene # 50, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This goes on, and they pass out and nothing happens after that...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This is one kind. Well, let's see what would probably happen by adding something to it... Pappu mails her telling about his feelings for her... Aditi replies back... Sorry, but I never ..................... (please do the honours....) We are just friends. Very few cases where pappu might have got a reply saying Love you too...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So pappu is heartbroken now, and the life goes on. The signals in this story, I donno how many could have interpreted what's he trying to tell right away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&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/21991499-1456260448335248970?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/1456260448335248970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/07/so-when-does-girl-realise-its-love.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1456260448335248970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1456260448335248970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/07/so-when-does-girl-realise-its-love.html' title='so when does a girl realise its love?'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-517598666655860747</id><published>2008-07-04T11:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-04T14:32:25.797-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bollywood'/><title type='text'>So when do you know... it's love?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i32.tinypic.com/mkx1lt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://i32.tinypic.com/mkx1lt.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.masala.com/images/tmp/full/jaaneture_full.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.masala.com/images/tmp/full/jaaneture_full.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when was the last time I walked out of a theater with a smile, well that happened when I watched Munnabhai. I'm a great fan of Abbas Tyrewala right from his pyaar main kabhi kabhi days. with his lyrics and then came Munnabhai for which he wrote dialogues. And from the day when I read the news bit that he was making a movie my wait started. And the wait was worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.jaanetu.com/"&gt;Jaane tu&lt;/a&gt;, is one of those movies where you don't have to stress yourself to understand whats happening on the screen. You'll love all the characters, I should say casting was really good. No one over dos his/her job. And the songs, I liked couple of tracks in this movie. After watching the songs with the characters they tend to grow on you, and you'll find yourself humming the tune nearly everyone were humming "jaane tu... jaane tu ya jaane na..." in the interval.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An apt plot for the debut of Imraan Khan, and then apt platform for Genelia to leave her mark in this movie. I should mention about Genelia here, she overshadows all the characters and you don't notice that, she has been doing the same in telugu movies of late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what can you expect from Jaane tu... ya jaane na... ?, well,  witty dialogues, laughable moments with Naseeruddin Shah, Paresh Rawal, Arbaaz Khan and Sohail Khan, if you passed out from college then you'll revive your college days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you say we'll have a smile on our face when we walk out of the theater after watching the movie....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;U BET!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/21991499-517598666655860747?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/517598666655860747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/07/so-when-do-you-know-its-love.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/517598666655860747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/517598666655860747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/07/so-when-do-you-know-its-love.html' title='So when do you know... it&apos;s love?'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i32.tinypic.com/mkx1lt_th.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-3186444693803508408</id><published>2008-05-27T11:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T12:24:23.293-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my creations'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me..'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crap'/><title type='text'>Milestone #200</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.hurricane-katrina.org/images/2007/05/11/istock_000002415327xsmall_2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.hurricane-katrina.org/images/2007/05/11/istock_000002415327xsmall_2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A small interview with Mr.Brute, the author of brute's column! on the occasion of 200 posts feat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interviewer: So, big feat Mr. Brute...&lt;br /&gt;Brute: Hey 200, thanks thanks, happy happy...&lt;br /&gt;Interpreter: Hi everyone, this is Avinash, assistant of Mr. Brute. Author is very excited about his achievement and would like to thank one and all who have dropped by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brute: Right...&lt;br /&gt;Interviewer: Oh.. ok&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brute: My name brute, ha ha ha...&lt;br /&gt;In: Author is trying to say that he forgot whats his real name is...&lt;br /&gt;Interview: what??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brute: No... my name brute... forgot name&lt;br /&gt;In: Oh, I beg your pardon, Author feels he forgot that he's called brute...&lt;br /&gt;Interviewer: ohoo, ok&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brute: NO....&lt;br /&gt;In: Again no, hey what the heck you want to say...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brute: My name forgot..&lt;br /&gt;In: OK , one last try... here author is trying to say that people have forgot his real name, all call him brute...&lt;br /&gt;Interviewer: Hmm... go on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brute: yes, yes, good...&lt;br /&gt;Interpreter: Phew! thank god! ok I'm vanishing...&lt;br /&gt;Interviewer: what's going on?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brute: wait... no,&lt;br /&gt;Interpreter: Sorry, I'm in invisible mode now...&lt;br /&gt;Interviewer: in what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interpreter: Good lord, would anyone believe that he wrote 200 posts after that interview, how should I shout out that those 200 posts are mine!&lt;br /&gt;&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/21991499-3186444693803508408?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/3186444693803508408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/05/milestone-200.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/3186444693803508408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/3186444693803508408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/05/milestone-200.html' title='Milestone #200'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-853296883756523800</id><published>2008-05-25T06:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-25T08:27:25.593-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem'/><title type='text'>for her...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://69.90.174.251/photos/display_pic_with_logo/94787/94787,1208737743,1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://69.90.174.251/photos/display_pic_with_logo/94787/94787,1208737743,1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Flowers on the ground waited to be get touched by her,&lt;br /&gt;Clouds in the sky waited to shield her from the Sun rays,&lt;br /&gt;Cool breeze behind the trees waited to touch her,&lt;br /&gt;Puddle of water waited to get stepped on by her,&lt;br /&gt;And my eyes waited to capture her in it....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all coveted her shadow...&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/21991499-853296883756523800?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/853296883756523800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/05/for-her.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/853296883756523800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/853296883756523800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/05/for-her.html' title='for her...'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-2659911401970373562</id><published>2008-05-23T17:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T20:22:05.281-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my creations'/><title type='text'>My angel - 3</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.rukorean.com/files/images/banana_girl.preview.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.rukorean.com/files/images/banana_girl.preview.JPG" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;...continued from &lt;a href="http://hunky4gals.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-angel-2.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It was 9 in the clock and no phone call from Ruchi, Avinash got worried about her now. He was about to call Ruchi his assistant knocked the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, come on in Deepthi..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good morning sir, delivery is done sir and client will be submitting their view by tomorrow afternoon, and you looking sexy sir today..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thanks ma'am, it's Ruchi's b'day and our wedding anniversary too..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, that's cool, happy anniversary sir..." Deepu said giving a mischief smile. Deepthi has a big crush on him. Avinash knew this and that's reason he stopped her transfer to other dept. twice in the year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Anything else?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No sir, no meetings today and new project will be vested on Thursday that's day after tomorrow...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Great, and... anything else?" Avinash asked looking at her glossy lips, he just loved her lips and always had his concentration on them whenever she was with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nothing else sir..." Deepu said and started walking off the office, she walks to the door and bolts it. Avinash rushes to her and starts wetting her lips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sorry, I came for water...", Abhi said looking into Ruchi's eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ok, what do you like to have for lunch Abhi?", Ruchi asked still lost in her thoughts thinking about what to cook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why don't you prepare your husband's fav. dishes... " Abhi said in notorious tone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, let me make a call to him and ask him to come for lunch..." Ruchi said reaching for her mobile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, why not, but don't you think he might be busy at office. I don't think that's a good idea."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh yeah, he was worried about some project module and all, anyways will start cooking then."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Shall I help in something?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, sure..." Ruchi said taking chicken from the fridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Avinash, I love you..." Deepthi said panting, Avinash drew back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Huh? you know I'm married, and it's not a good idea to have a relation..." Avinash said grabbing her close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know, what should I do with Abhi, I'm no more interested in him..." Deepthi said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, don't do that, this will ruin you badly. I mean letting this relation to be a secret would be better than go and announce outside. At the bottom of my heart it's still Ruchi. I'm sorry but thats the fact and come what may I'll love her till my last breathe" Avinash said opening the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Shes a lucky bitch! isn't she..," Deepthi said walking out of the office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why hasn't Avinash called me yet?" Ruchi asked herself while cutting the onions, lost in her thoughts she cut her finger. Abhi Rushes and puts her finger into his mouth...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;... to be continued&lt;/span&gt;&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/21991499-2659911401970373562?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/2659911401970373562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/05/my-angel-3.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2659911401970373562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2659911401970373562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/05/my-angel-3.html' title='My angel - 3'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-7454378687792703821</id><published>2008-05-18T21:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T02:49:10.781-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my creations'/><title type='text'>My Angel - 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img31.picoodle.com/img/img31/9/7/14/f_risakom_d12c6cd.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://img31.picoodle.com/img/img31/9/7/14/f_risakom_d12c6cd.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;... continued from &lt;a href="http://hunky4gals.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-angel.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Avinash was hating it today going to office, he too was missing Ruchi like hell. Clock was ticking at its own sweet pace irritating Avinash. He was waiting for a call from Ruchi, the acknowledgment call for the letter he left for her under the pillow. It was 7:10 in the morning, Avinash had to go to office in the early hours to make the delivery of the project modules to the client.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Who the heck are you?", Ruchi screamed in shock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey, cool down, I'm Abhi.. Abhiram, don't worry you don't know me..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What are these roses for , eh? May be I should call police," Ruchi said dialing 100 in her mobile.&lt;br /&gt;Abhi snatched the mobile from her hand and said, "Ma'am will you ever let me talk, tell you why am I here, what for .."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Go ahead," Ruchi said grabbing her mobile back from Abhi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ok, I'm Abhiram, I'm RJ in RadioMirchi, and today is you birthday and also wedding anniversary. Last year your husband called up to our radio station and yeah, you also spoke right?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"yeah, so?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So, that day we promised to celebrate your birthday and wedding anniversary with you guys and now will you please call Avinash..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, he isn't there, he left to office an hour ago... and by the way where's your mics and other things, how should I believe you, show me your I.D."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abhi gives his business card. Ruchi takes a look of it and dials radio station number, after confirming that abhi was indeed  RJ she got some respite, "well I'm really sorry for what happened, I just didn't knew how to react when I saw it's not my husband but somebody else, anyways come on in, I'll prepare some breakfast for you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Avinash reached office by eight. He was worried that Ruchi didn't call him yet, but then thought why disturb her sleep by making a call to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So Ruchiji, hows your marriage life so far?" Abhi asked Ruchi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"First of all, no ji's to my name please, and about our marriage life, we didn't realize that its our 3rd anniversary, I mean 3 yrs just flew away, yeah we do have few altercations here and there but that's because Avinash gets hyper when he has a bad day at office. He comes home with the same mood and tends to vent frustration on me, that time we do have few arguments. Well, the very next morning he wakes up early in the morning and prepares breakfast. And that act is sorry act for me..." Ruchi smiles while saying that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Interesting and also romantic. And I guess I should approach Avinash whenever I get married for suggestions on how to impress your wife..." both Abhi and Ruchi giggled on that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ruchi made french toasts and coffee for the breakfast, after serving breakfast to abhi she asked, "So Mr. Abhiram, you must be having girlfriend, sorry sorry it should have been girlfriends, tell about them..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"hahaha... I'm not a nova Ruchi, well I have a girlfriend and I do love her, and we are the process of knowing each other much better before we commit to each other."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ohh, that's a good thing you guys are doing, well Avinash wooed me for like more than 4 yrs before he got an yes from me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh boy, so he had to struggle hard to get his worth prize of life..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah... hey be right back", Ruchi said while clearing the table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ruchi went inside kitchen thinking of what to cook for the lunch. She turned towards the fridge for some water, she found Abhi standing right behind her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;... to b continued&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://hunky4gals.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-angel.html"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-7454378687792703821?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/7454378687792703821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/05/my-angel-2.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7454378687792703821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7454378687792703821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/05/my-angel-2.html' title='My Angel - 2'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-4539070867132731504</id><published>2008-05-15T16:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T07:29:06.139-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my creations'/><title type='text'>My Angel</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://l.yimg.com/img.tv.yahoo.com/tv/us/img/site/18/20/0000041820_20070801145008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 320px;" alt="" src="http://l.yimg.com/img.tv.yahoo.com/tv/us/img/site/18/20/0000041820_20070801145008.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ruchi&lt;/span&gt; got up early in the morning seeing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Avinash&lt;/span&gt; left to office. It was 7 in the morning. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ruchi&lt;/span&gt; could feel some kind of happiness instigated in her today, she was missing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Avinash&lt;/span&gt; for some reason, she picked her mobile to call &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Avinash&lt;/span&gt;; but drew back thinking he might be in the middle of traffic driving. &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;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;She rolled over the bed to the other side to reach the photo frame. She kept staring at her hubby's pic. "you are my angel, thanks for everything", she said with a peck. She got up from the bed, as she was making her bed her eyes fell on the envelope that was hiding under the pillow. &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;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Ruchi&lt;/span&gt; tore the envelope to see what's there in that. She found a letter written by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Avinash&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Ruchi&lt;/span&gt;, good morning, thanks for that smile... :) ", &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Ruchi&lt;/span&gt; smiles reading that. "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Hmm&lt;/span&gt;, I wanted you to know this that I fell in love with you yet again, now don't say..." , &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Ruchi&lt;/span&gt; says "not again..." with a smile and continues reading the letter; "not again... &lt;em&gt;I know,&lt;/em&gt; well yea I fell in love with you yet again, one short of 50&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; time; couldn't wait for that 50 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; time, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;donno&lt;/span&gt; when that might happen :P ..... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Ruchi&lt;/span&gt;, I love you more than anything else in this world, you are the best thing to happen in my life.... HAPPY ANNIVERSARY SWEETHEART!"&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;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Ruchi&lt;/span&gt; now came to know that unknown reason for the happiness. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Ruchi&lt;/span&gt; picks her mobile to make a call to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Avinash&lt;/span&gt;, while she was dialing the number she hears the doorbell. &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;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;She opens the door to see rose flowers all over the corridor. She slowly walks to the middle of the corridor moving the roses aside, she sensed someone behind her, she thought it was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Avinash&lt;/span&gt;. She turns back and hugs him tightly. "I love you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Avinash&lt;/span&gt;, thanks for the roses", She reached the lips to kiss them, she shouted in shock! he wasn't &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Avinash&lt;/span&gt;....&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;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;..... To be continued soon&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/21991499-4539070867132731504?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/4539070867132731504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/05/my-angel.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4539070867132731504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4539070867132731504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/05/my-angel.html' title='My Angel'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-5844356561052358411</id><published>2008-04-30T03:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T00:38:13.346-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem'/><title type='text'>A Void</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SBggrFg56lI/AAAAAAAAAxE/PJZnqAB0qdw/s1600-h/15358_w.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194938094758521426" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SBggrFg56lI/AAAAAAAAAxE/PJZnqAB0qdw/s200/15358_w.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;It was like a flash for me...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;I craved to see you...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;you came...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;                                                      heart skipped beats...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;                                                     hmm...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;                                                             Clock ticked off at light speed,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;                                                                    leaving me indifferent till the time of departing arrived...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; you smiled...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;                                                                    smile that I can ever forget ...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;                                                                    smile that I wanted to see all my life,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;                                                                    could last for couple of secs...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;                                                                         leaving a void inside me...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-5844356561052358411?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/5844356561052358411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/04/void.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/5844356561052358411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/5844356561052358411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/04/void.html' title='A Void'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/SBggrFg56lI/AAAAAAAAAxE/PJZnqAB0qdw/s72-c/15358_w.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-1858661974581313609</id><published>2008-04-28T00:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T00:17:21.095-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='timepass'/><title type='text'>Aren't we??</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.arcamax.com/newspics/5/504/50477.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.arcamax.com/newspics/5/504/50477.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: Click on to the image for bigger size...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-1858661974581313609?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/1858661974581313609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/04/arent-we.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1858661974581313609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1858661974581313609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/04/arent-we.html' title='Aren&apos;t we??'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-4672894114545373403</id><published>2008-04-25T02:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T17:32:49.199-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me..'/><title type='text'>Life in US ... part II</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://actionworkz.com/gallery/d/191-3/starsandstripesflag.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://actionworkz.com/gallery/d/191-3/starsandstripesflag.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So last time I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;briefed&lt;/span&gt; very few things about the life in US, I missed many. Let me share few more things that you'll find in US...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Well I don't have a watch but yea, have a mobile thankfully. But out of habit when you are at some store, anywhere where you go out for shopping I look at the walls for time. You generally won't find a wall clock...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Back in India, you can shout, you can jump, you can play cricket, you can do what not. But you have to learn to walk in air, shouldn't walk firmly, shouldn't play loud music, shouldn't laugh out loud... "Dude neighbors have kids, they have schools and offices to go next day..." sigh!...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Well you somehow you break all the limits... so what happens next??? you'll get couple of warning notices from the lease office, ok then what?? then dude get ready to meet big  boss, Mr Cop, who talks less writes more... so you'll be awarded a sweet penultimate warning ticket... that's it?? what next?? you'll have to shell out your pockets from next time onwards...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Here pedestrians are considered kings but they to0 have to pay if they break the rules!!!...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Anyways got to go, booze party is waiting ...am late....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-4672894114545373403?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/4672894114545373403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/04/life-in-us-part-ii.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4672894114545373403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4672894114545373403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/04/life-in-us-part-ii.html' title='Life in US ... part II'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-7648051342232058095</id><published>2008-04-17T18:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T17:31:19.923-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crap'/><title type='text'>how many balls do you have???</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.eskimo.com/%7Elo/linux/tuxqqmerge.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 200px;" alt="" src="http://www.eskimo.com/%7Elo/linux/tuxqqmerge.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Week was filled with lots of funny moments and best were these...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;The other day on Srirama &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Navami&lt;/span&gt; two of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;roomies&lt;/span&gt; went to temple. On there way back to home they were boarding the bus, then the Lady Driver asked the man with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;sindoor&lt;/span&gt; on his forehead before these guys...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;"I know Indian women put that color thing on their foreheads... why did you put that? what are you??"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;For this that Indian uncle gave a simple smile and walked away...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;And then last evening was at my friends place, I just reached the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;aprt&lt;/span&gt; and these guys who were playing cricket inside the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;aprt&lt;/span&gt; had to face the bitter of the next door guys... All started the night when we got drunk and started hooting and dancing, had an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;altercation&lt;/span&gt; that night and then daily playing with basketball and then cricket what can we do if the walls are made of wood...bloody hell...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;So last evening entire family of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;nxt&lt;/span&gt; door got into &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;altercation&lt;/span&gt; and the Uncle asked "How many balls you guys have???"... (One of my friends couldn't stop his dirty mind for sec... ;)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-7648051342232058095?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/7648051342232058095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/04/how-many-balls-do-you-have.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7648051342232058095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7648051342232058095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/04/how-many-balls-do-you-have.html' title='how many balls do you have???'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-3858415884126494459</id><published>2008-04-04T12:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T13:26:34.132-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me..'/><title type='text'>Hungama at Stevenson Blvd!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.nhtsa.dot.gov/buckleup/ciot-planner/planner07/resources/creative/rural/Posters/MoreCowsCops-72dpi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.nhtsa.dot.gov/buckleup/ciot-planner/planner07/resources/creative/rural/Posters/MoreCowsCops-72dpi.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;There was this cop patrolling at &lt;a href="http://www.bart.gov/index.asp"&gt;BART&lt;/a&gt; station downing his hamburger at 0130hrs singing...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"I walk this empty street&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Where the city sleeps&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;and I'm the only one and I walk alone"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;He gets a message in the wireless to go for patrolling at Stevenson Boulevard. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"What the f***, can't eat my hamburger at peace..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;He then meets the security guard of the Stevenson place aprt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Hi, how ya doing?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Hi, pretty good officer..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"What's the trouble?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Well, there's this aprt #264 disturbing the sleep of the other people, and I have already warned them before, few days back and even today an hour ago, noise doesn't seem to be reducing...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Ah-huh... well, guess they need a written notice then..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;He pulls out his wireless, "I need backup..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;There comes three more patrolling cars...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Cop knocks the door firmly... Inside nearly 35-40 souls smelt the trouble and fell silent... The person who was in full sense with opened eyes goes and opens the door...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Hi.."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Hi, I need aprt owner please..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Officer, it's his b'day today so we are sorry if we were creating any kind of problem..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Can you please call the aprt owner sir..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We smelled a ticket... the b'day boy comes with his passport for the proof of his date of birth...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Sorry officer, they are leaving in 5 minutes, party is over..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Ok, well, can I see you ID..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;He takes the Passport and fills a warning notice form and slaps it...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"It's just the warning, hope you'll not repeat this..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Good night officer..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;He closes the door smiling and people started walking back to their aprts... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;After 15 minutes they all return back from other lane back to our aprt to finish the liquor... only whispers existed from there on with no lights on, only source of light was from the lappies...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The B'day boy got a relishing gift on his birthday!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-3858415884126494459?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/3858415884126494459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/04/hungama-at-stevenson-blvd.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/3858415884126494459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/3858415884126494459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/04/hungama-at-stevenson-blvd.html' title='Hungama at Stevenson Blvd!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-1492071353002660320</id><published>2008-04-02T15:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T22:58:26.627-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me..'/><title type='text'>DIDN't brush my teeth yet!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.fredericpatenaude.com/images/16105994.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.fredericpatenaude.com/images/16105994.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ahh&lt;/span&gt;,... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;goood&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;morninngg&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;eekk&lt;/span&gt; it's afternoon!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Yeah, I started waking up very early these days not until its half past twelve, may be few minutes earlier... Last evening was at friend's house, stayed there in the night, got up around eleven in the morning...before I was leaving my friend asked, "are you leaving?" that must have said it to me "FINISH YOUR WORK AND GO!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;aprt&lt;/span&gt; is one mile away from his. I haven't brushed yet. As soon as I reached home rushed into the restroom to brush my teeth... NOT-A-SINGLE-DROP of water was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;squeezing&lt;/span&gt; out of the tap nozzle!... I came out and saw a notice from the community, "24 HOUR NOTICE OF MANDATORY WATER SHUT OFF"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Now I have nothing to do but wait for the main line to resume...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Thank god, I answered the nature call there at my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Friend's&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;aprt&lt;/span&gt; only... phew!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-1492071353002660320?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/1492071353002660320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/04/ahh.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1492071353002660320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1492071353002660320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/04/ahh.html' title='DIDN&apos;t brush my teeth yet!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-4183963478723640600</id><published>2008-03-21T01:53:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T10:29:30.187-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tortoise n Hare'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crap'/><title type='text'>Tortoise &amp; Hare... back again!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.walledlake.k12.mi.us/llake/hare.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://www.walledlake.k12.mi.us/llake/hare.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www1.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/1854004/2/istockphoto_1854004_tortoise_cartoon.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;And they are back again. After finishing their &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;graduation&lt;/span&gt; they headed to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Ooty&lt;/span&gt; to beat the heat in the summer. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hare and Tortoise decided to race this summer. So they finalised a spot and date of race, that was a week away. They started warm ups from next day onwards. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;And the D-day arrived. Clear blue sky, birds chirping and cool breeze in the background with sun shining brightly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And the race started, as expected hare zoomed off and tortoise moved slowly. After few minutes hare got tired and it decided to take few minutes break. Tortoise slowly reached the place where hare was sitting. Hare saw tortoise approaching and it decided to resume the race. Hare wanted to win this race at any cost.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Hey dude... TIME &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;PLEAASEEEE&lt;/span&gt;...", shouted tortoise from distance seeing hare getting ready to zip off.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Eh..?? forget it... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;cya&lt;/span&gt; at the finishing line..."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Tortoise didn't like this... before it could say anything something shiny fell into the pond beside from nowhere... Hare stopped seeing that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A witch rose up from that shiny thing... She saw both Hare and Tortoise...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Hi folks .. this is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;witchy&lt;/span&gt; witch for you... how ya guys doing... so you guys racing again... anyways I keep blabbering only... thing is have opened my eyes after 1000 years and I saw you guys as soon as I opened my eyes... as you guys are the first living organisms I saw I would like to grant 3 wishes to each... So who wants first wish??"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Tortoise and Hare didn't know what to do, they realised that they can't escape now...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Hare first", said tortoise.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;... go ahead hare...", said &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Witchy&lt;/span&gt; Witch.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;... OK... no big deal... well, I wish all the other hares in this country become female ones..."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Witchy&lt;/span&gt; Witch swung her wand in the air and little spark came from the tip of the wand...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; you wish now tortoise...", said &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Witchy&lt;/span&gt; Witch looking at tortoise.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"I want a helmet please", said tortoise shyly.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wand swung in the air and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;torty&lt;/span&gt; had a helmet in its hand.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; next hare's turn...", &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Witchy&lt;/span&gt; Witch said turning towards hare.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;... I wish all the hares in this continent become female"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Your turn &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Torty&lt;/span&gt;.."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"I want a bike..."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Whooosh&lt;/span&gt;! and bike appeared... hare laughed inside and said to himself, "that's good thing you asked for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;torty&lt;/span&gt; you need those for sure".&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"And you last wish Mr. Hare?", asked &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Witchy&lt;/span&gt; witch.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"I wish all the hares on this planet become female..."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"And yours Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Torty&lt;/span&gt;?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Torty&lt;/span&gt; put on its helmet, fired the bike, accelerated it...and zipped off saying&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"I wish Mr. hare is a GAY!!!!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-4183963478723640600?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/4183963478723640600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/03/tortoise-hare-back-again.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4183963478723640600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4183963478723640600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/03/tortoise-hare-back-again.html' title='Tortoise &amp; Hare... back again!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-2265078888015668248</id><published>2008-03-17T20:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T08:36:48.137-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me..'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crap'/><title type='text'>Life in US!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://static.flickr.com/28/61355684_1e1b26a29a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://static.flickr.com/28/61355684_1e1b26a29a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Never flew in a plane so was excited when I finally got into a plane, and that nearly 20 hrs stint in the air changing three different flights bored me, and now I don't wanna get into a plane! How will I go back to India??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Oh! you going to US! man that's rocking!... said so many with so many exclamations, yeah, so me too was so excited packing my bags to US!... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;... after spending eleven hundred hrs I say what's there here to get excited! (with an exclamation)... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Anyways, if you feel hungry and you don't wanna spend bucks for killing your hunger, man go to a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;walmart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. Go search for donuts, chocolates, pancakes... eh! hold on! I'm not gonna pay for all these... rite! who's asking you to? tear the packets, dump them into your mouth and dump the cover into some rack and get out from there... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Back in India, Non-veg means rates! but in US vegetables means rates! so go for meat rather than veggies... anyways, all you get here is frozen to the core... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;You hardly find water to drink, or should I say you just forget that you had to drink water. Water is like some beverage here, you see yourself quenching your thirst with energy drinks, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;pepsi's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; that too diet ones and of course how can I forget beers!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; You waste your hell lota precious time crossing the signals! bloody hell! anyways you must be hungry again, watch out for BK (Burger King) you'll get million dollar worth $1 crisp chicken burger, of course &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Mc&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; D also has one called &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;McChicken&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, but comparatively BK rocks! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Whatever it might be but you observe that you improve your mother tongue here rather than in India, for-apparent-reasons...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&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;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Aftr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; so much of complaining, on the contrary I'm slowly loving US... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-2265078888015668248?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/2265078888015668248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/03/life-in-us.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2265078888015668248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/2265078888015668248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/03/life-in-us.html' title='Life in US!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-4128895615239145926</id><published>2008-03-12T03:44:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-12T04:15:24.523-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tag zone'/><title type='text'>TAGGED!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.homeownerscorner.com/images/Img_facts.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.homeownerscorner.com/images/Img_facts.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arasi tagged me, actually she has this huge crush on me so she wanted to know me better and this tag might be really helpful for her... (:P   just kidding...). Anyways, thanks ma'am for tagging me. Here are the instructions to be followed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;In the 8 Facts about Yourself, you share 8 things that your readers don’t know about you. Then at the end you tag at least 8 other bloggers to keep the fun going. Here are the rules.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;RULES:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;* Each blogger must post these rules first.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;* Each blogger starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;* Bloggers that are tagged need to write on their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;* At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;* Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.****&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here are the 8 facts about me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I wake up just before the alarm starts yelling!!&lt;br /&gt;2. I kissed a girl (who's not related to me in anyway...)&lt;br /&gt;3. I forget names easily.&lt;br /&gt;4. I love to learn things myself.&lt;br /&gt;5. I predict my grades (which is 98% accurate) after I come out of the exam hall.&lt;br /&gt;6. I easily get bored.&lt;br /&gt;7. I'm lazy depending on my mood.&lt;br /&gt;8. I love to preach but I hate to be on the receiving end of it.&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tag:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://kavitha04.blogspot.com/" title="mystery"&gt;kavitha&lt;/a&gt; , &lt;a href="http://dg-insecure-me.blogspot.com/" title="Last updated: 15:11:39 [GMT+5.5] on Saturday, March 08"&gt;gayathri&lt;/a&gt; , &lt;a href="http://paddyfieldprincess.blogspot.com/" title="Last updated: 14:12:36 [GMT+5.5] on Tuesday, February 26"&gt;maru&lt;/a&gt; , &lt;a href="http://gr0undzer0.blogspot.com/" title="Last updated: 11:52:10 [GMT+5.5] on Wednesday, February 13"&gt;saty&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://sravanthi4u.blogspot.com/" title="http://sravanthi4u.blogspot.com/"&gt;sravs&lt;/a&gt; , &lt;a href="http://sajeshcherian.blogspot.com/" title="Last updated: 20:53:34 [GMT+5.5] on Sunday, March 02"&gt;sajesh&lt;/a&gt; , &lt;a href="http://sindhud.blogspot.com/" title="drops of ocean"&gt;sindhu&lt;/a&gt; , &lt;a href="http://memoirs-of-a-laid-back-life.blogspot.com/" title="Last updated: 19:39:45 [GMT+5.5] on Thursday, March 06"&gt;krithika&lt;/a&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/21991499-4128895615239145926?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/4128895615239145926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/03/tagged.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4128895615239145926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4128895615239145926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/03/tagged.html' title='TAGGED!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-7773359646661645033</id><published>2008-03-02T21:57:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-03T01:52:56.563-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whodunit...'/><title type='text'>Whodunit?    - retold part 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.springfieldmuseums.org/uploads/events/whodunit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.springfieldmuseums.org/uploads/events/whodunit.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Dad... when is the train?," I asked checking the reservation ticket which was on the dining table. Mom and dad are going to Tirupathi to attend my cousin's marriage. I had my final year project seminar day after tomorrow, so I wasn't going with them. "It's at 5:30 pm", replied dad who was reading the newspaper in the living room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sindhu... come here...", mom shouted from the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;"Yea.. mom?", I said entering the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;"Why don't you go to Neelima's house instead as she isn't coming to stay with you..."&lt;br /&gt;"I will go tomorrow morning mom, I have to prepare slides for the presentation..."&lt;br /&gt;"Ok..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom and dad left in the evening and I left to Prasad's Imax for evening show with neelima. After the show Neelima dropped me at my apartment. I wished her goodnight and went into my apartment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was eleven in the night, I was very sleepy had no mood to sit and prepare slides. I heard sounds coming from the upper flat, out of curious I peeked out of my flat to see what’s happening there. I saw Mr.Kapoor’s flat door ajar, I went inside and hid myself behind the curtains. I saw a man in mask stabbing Mrs.Kapoor, I slowly took out my mobile and took pictures of this man. while I was slipping out of the flat man noticed me. I was so terrified that I just ran from there and stopped at the police station.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as the Sub-Inspector came to know about the murder from he sent in task force to my apartment and he informed the news to the Inspector. ..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inspector Ram came in at 12am. He came and shook hands with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hello sindhu, I'm Ram"&lt;br /&gt;"Hello sir..."&lt;br /&gt;"Are you ok now?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yea, I guess so..."&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I just got a call saying that there's no sign of any murder in that flat..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.........to be continued&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/21991499-7773359646661645033?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/7773359646661645033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/03/whodunit-remake-part-1.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7773359646661645033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7773359646661645033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/03/whodunit-remake-part-1.html' title='Whodunit?    - retold part 1'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-7360339885747498299</id><published>2008-02-26T20:12:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-26T20:43:34.835-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='general'/><title type='text'>missing the niche'</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.eyecomma.com/identity/missing.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.eyecomma.com/identity/missing.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Couple of years ago what made me start a blog is missing these days. Or I should be saying that craze. passion and patience which were the niche for a blog has been in deficit levels of late. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&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;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;fraternity&lt;/span&gt; to which I belong in this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;blogsville&lt;/span&gt; has gone to sudden lull. The blog socialisation has come down drastically. Once it used be a carnival in the comment boxes, these days they are left dry with a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;random&lt;/span&gt; one or two comments here and there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&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;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It's not the creativity that went down just that the time parameter has been main culprit here, was blogging just a fad?? I hope not....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-7360339885747498299?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/7360339885747498299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/02/missing-niche.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7360339885747498299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7360339885747498299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/02/missing-niche.html' title='missing the niche&apos;'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-8575638653551723266</id><published>2008-02-24T14:02:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-24T17:47:49.246-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me..'/><title type='text'>not anymore...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r223/awrad/MiSsinG-U.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 200px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r223/awrad/MiSsinG-U.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I fear night,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;not anymore now that you are there with me,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I fear being lonely,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;not anymore now that I see you regularly,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I fear of being lost in this cruel world,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;not anymore as I see you standing for me with a candle to show me the path... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Oh! such a sweet dream,&lt;br /&gt;I know it's not gonna happen for real,&lt;br /&gt;sigh, the dreamland of mine...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-8575638653551723266?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/8575638653551723266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/02/not-anymore.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8575638653551723266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8575638653551723266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/02/not-anymore.html' title='not anymore...'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-4081168548792596282</id><published>2008-02-21T18:12:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-22T16:04:49.357-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me..'/><title type='text'>Reporting from CLass!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.youthchg.com/braceg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://www.youthchg.com/braceg.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A really boring lecture, its 1500hrs in the day, people have their heads in between their hands trying hard not to sleep in the class, and me online!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been showering for past couple of days and it's quite chilly with 6 degrees centigrade, just returned back from canteen after hastily downing a hot dog, my first meal since morning. Didn't had time to eat cereals in the morning as I had class at 9:30 in the morning and woke up at 8:30.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night all my roomies and next door guys went nostalgic after eating rice with the dal I made. This was my first attempt to make dal, and it turned out to be superb!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey catch ya later, got to finish my assignment, it's 24 mins due!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;pic source : used with permission &lt;a onclick="return top.js.OpenExtLink(window,event,this)" href="http://www.youthchg.com/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow"&gt;Youth Change web site link http://www.youthchg.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-4081168548792596282?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/4081168548792596282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/02/reporting-from-class_22.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4081168548792596282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/4081168548792596282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/02/reporting-from-class_22.html' title='Reporting from CLass!!!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-940490424820713679</id><published>2008-02-14T14:39:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T17:34:09.965-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me..'/><title type='text'>Will U b my Valentine!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.adorablegiftbaskets.com/media/valentine%20gift%20valentines%20day%20gifts"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.adorablegiftbaskets.com/media/valentine%20gift%20valentines%20day%20gifts" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Salaam-Namaste! it's been long long long  time that I visited my own blog, sigh... the cruel busy schedule of mine is killing me. Anyways, a very happy valantine's day to all the beautiful bloggies out there. I hope all found their valentine today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I will find my valentine today... reasons being I have two classes today, afternoon through evening and there ends my day without having anytime left to go out and find one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I hope people back in India had a wonderful valentine day and wish people of this side of the Earth have a gorgueos day ahead!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-940490424820713679?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/940490424820713679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/02/will-u-b-my-valentine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/940490424820713679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/940490424820713679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/02/will-u-b-my-valentine.html' title='Will U b my Valentine!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-3197530648875802294</id><published>2008-02-05T20:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T20:50:23.512-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me..'/><title type='text'>two years older!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.hallmark.com/wcsstore/HallmarkStore/images/products/papercards/hkb2443_100v1_lg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.hallmark.com/wcsstore/HallmarkStore/images/products/papercards/hkb2443_100v1_lg.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Phew! what a journey it was till here. This wonderful tool has given a scope for retrospection many a times and showed me new dimensions in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I say always  "I fell  in love  with  blog  two  years  ago  and still going  going  strong".&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/21991499-3197530648875802294?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/3197530648875802294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/02/two-years-older.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/3197530648875802294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/3197530648875802294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/02/two-years-older.html' title='two years older!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-7388484538853331604</id><published>2008-01-24T03:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-24T04:36:42.290-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me..'/><title type='text'>My Pets..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.petsnsuch.com/images/pets_n_such_logo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.petsnsuch.com/images/pets_n_such_logo.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though I don't have any pets now but I had few when I was a school going kid till my engg second year! Had a puppy, then a cat, then fishes, and then a hen!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Puppy - I found this cute little puppy while playing cricket near my friends house, this was when I was in 4th standard. Named it tommy. One find day when I started for my school in my dad's scooter it loosened up the chain and ran behind the scooter I was standing in front so couldn't hear it's barking. When I came back from school that day I found my puppy missing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cat - Nancy was it's name. My aunt presented me nancy when I was in 6th standard. It was a white cat with small golden yellow spot on it's right side. It used sleep in my bed during winter season and mom used to get irritated at that sight. Due to snake bite it died when we went out for a movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fishes - I fished out few fishes with a net (taare zameen par.. :P) from a small pond at my grandmas town. Brought them to my home in bottle from there and was in a process of building an aquarium for them but one day my dad overfed those fishes and they all died... hmm..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hen - I bought this as chick for 15 bucks when I was in engg second year. I fed it nicely we used play and then it had a friend, cat. Cat used to ambush where this used to go. And then one day it ran off from home and it never returned back. I went out and searched whole evening in the streets. After a month it came back but it didn't recognise me, hmm..so I let it go where ever it wanted to...&lt;br /&gt;&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/21991499-7388484538853331604?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/7388484538853331604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/01/my-pets.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7388484538853331604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7388484538853331604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/01/my-pets.html' title='My Pets..'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-3957919627183116259</id><published>2008-01-05T14:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T00:38:13.697-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tag zone'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whodunit...'/><title type='text'>Whodunit? - The Remake Version</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8GZKam1uCJE/R3-LmDpqmjI/AAAAAAAAAPk/I7jNSS-6A-I/s400/BloggersofTheWorld.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8GZKam1uCJE/R3-LmDpqmjI/AAAAAAAAAPk/I7jNSS-6A-I/s400/BloggersofTheWorld.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, after ages I got tagged (&lt;strong&gt;New year resolution - TAG)&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;a href="http://kavitha04.blogspot.com/"&gt;Kavitha&lt;/a&gt; has passed on this tag-cum-award.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;New year Resolution:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year I made 6 resolutions and those were:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Enjoy LIFE more (come what may..)&lt;br /&gt;2. Little more focus on things which I'm planning for my career.&lt;br /&gt;3. Having appropriate expectations.&lt;br /&gt;4. Try to reduce few pounds..(which I summoned after getting job..[:P])&lt;br /&gt;5. Try to have less crushes! [:D]&lt;br /&gt;6. Break as many rules as possible!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outa 6 I adhered to the 6th resolution very sincerely. And so this year too I'm going to continue that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Last year,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Best thing that happened&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;got US Visa...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Wors&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;t thing that happened&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I went into the shell for the first time in my life...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;And thanks Kavi for the award... (do u really think I deserve that ?? :D)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;*****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Coming attractions!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www1.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/2320084/2/istockphoto_2320084_whodunit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www1.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/2320084/2/istockphoto_2320084_whodunit.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Whodunit? - The Remake Version&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Got this thought of re-writing the first story in this blog. You can say I got instigated by the endless remakes of the bollywood flicks these days... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&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/21991499-3957919627183116259?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/3957919627183116259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/01/whodunit-remake-version.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/3957919627183116259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/3957919627183116259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/01/whodunit-remake-version.html' title='Whodunit? - The Remake Version'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_8GZKam1uCJE/R3-LmDpqmjI/AAAAAAAAAPk/I7jNSS-6A-I/s72-c/BloggersofTheWorld.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-1825598870430193553</id><published>2007-12-31T20:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T00:38:13.820-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>2007-08</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/R3mrfh9emBI/AAAAAAAAApc/2MSrEA7BuG0/s1600-h/ist2_3945837_bottle_champagne_saying_happy_new_year_2008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/R3mrfh9emBI/AAAAAAAAApc/2MSrEA7BuG0/s200/ist2_3945837_bottle_champagne_saying_happy_new_year_2008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150336207055394834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The year 2007 was full of contrasts - of ups and downs. It presented a procession of happy moments and bad times. Made new set of friends, saw extremely boring moments to happiest ones. I mostly relied on my luck this year to succeed in my own shattering enterprises. I did take way too many risks and got through but couldn't escape few hick-ups on the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was well-motivated by all my friends, had so many ambitions and always believed in my chances. Had to leave amazon.com for my new ambition. All the year I was just running to reach on time if not in time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally the year ended on the happier note...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Wishing all my friends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; a very happy and prosperous new year&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; ahead!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/21991499-1825598870430193553?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/1825598870430193553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/01/2007-08.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1825598870430193553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/1825598870430193553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2008/01/2007-08.html' title='2007-08'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/R3mrfh9emBI/AAAAAAAAApc/2MSrEA7BuG0/s72-c/ist2_3945837_bottle_champagne_saying_happy_new_year_2008.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-6694204364378602827</id><published>2007-12-08T13:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T00:38:14.024-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fiction'/><title type='text'>No Commitments please! (the end)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/R1r0R6GsSKI/AAAAAAAAApU/PcNXjVuubXA/s1600-h/twototango.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/R1r0R6GsSKI/AAAAAAAAApU/PcNXjVuubXA/s200/twototango.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141690513089120418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I didn't inform my dad about the flight details as I wanted to give them a little surprise and more over I wanted to spend couple of hours with Neelima. I couldn't figure out a time frame when and where can I meet her as mom and dad will not allow me to go out for at least two to three days. So I made a call to Neelima and asked her to come to airport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started raining when I walked out of the airport. Neelu was standing on the other side of the road with an umbrella. She gained little weight and was looking more prettier. I fell in love yet again after seeing her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hi ma'am"&lt;br /&gt;"Hi prasad..."&lt;br /&gt;"Gawd! you are looking so gorgeous that I think I deserve a kiss from you..."&lt;br /&gt;"Shut up... where are we going now?"&lt;br /&gt;"ahh... Well, I didn't think of anything yet, so first we'll go to Ohri's and have lunch then we'll think of where to go..."&lt;br /&gt;"Ok sir..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After lunch we went to Necklace road and walked for while holding our hands before we settled at the Eat Street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hmm... so how are you, you lost so much of weight. Look at you, you look like a father of two kids..."&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, I know... got to join a gym soon..."&lt;br /&gt;"You better, and how are girls in you city sir?"&lt;br /&gt;"Girls... I guess you were the first girl in this one and half years I talked to except for my instructor in lab, the lady bus conductor, the lady bartender, the cashier in the super market and the waitress in the hotel near my house..."&lt;br /&gt;"ahan, that's really sad..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neelima took my hands into her and looked into my eyes. Tears started to slip on her tender cheeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Prasad... I did a mistake, a terrible one and I'm so shameless to see directly into your eyes and talk to you like this..."&lt;br /&gt;"Hey... what happened??"&lt;br /&gt;"I donno what to say and how to say...but then I can't keep you in dark for long, I can't cheat you..."&lt;br /&gt;"are you telling me what happened or not?"&lt;br /&gt;"Prasad... I'm pregnant ...."&lt;br /&gt;"WHAT THE HECK????"&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry , I'm really sorry prasad... "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't digest that, I started feeling beaten. As If I had come to tad end of my life, there's nothing left. I rose from the chair and walked away leaving her there. From there I went to a bar and boozed till I lost my senses. I cried my heart out, cried so much that my tears dried out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next day morning I saw myself in my room. I got up with headache . Poo got into the room and bolted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hmm... dad brought you from the bar last night... What happened, why were you so upset?"&lt;br /&gt;I hugged poo tightly and cried...&lt;br /&gt;"Hey ... what happened, will you tell me something please, I feel like crying now..."&lt;br /&gt;"Hmm..nothing, I missed you badly and mom and dad..."&lt;br /&gt;"We too missed you yaar... please come back for ever...please..."&lt;br /&gt;"Yup.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poo wiped my tears and gave a peck on my forehead. Next minute I went to dad and said that I wanted to marry Neelu. My mom rushed into the house from the veranda when she heard that and hugged me. My dad was in little confusion on how to react for my decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the evening I got a call from Neelima...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Prasad... are you sure you want to marry me...?", She was crying on the other end.&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, I am... and I appreciate your boldness to reveal about the incident to me..."&lt;br /&gt;"I'm planning for an abortion ..."&lt;br /&gt;"No, you will not do that... why you want to kill the part of yours because of your mistake... Ok listen, happened so happen, I'm ready to accept the child. Will you marry me neelima?"&lt;br /&gt;She hung up the phone...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got married after two weeks on forcing from my end. Later after a week the day before I was returning to Germany we sat with our parents and weaved a story that we fell in love two years back itself and then we got close physically. I didn't where did I gathered the enough guts to talk to them. We confided the news of the pregnancy. They got shocked for a while and then everything came back to normalcy. They felt happy for us for correcting our mistake and blessed us. This released immense pressure from me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the cafe...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That was a brave decision bro. I feel so proud of you", Avinash said.&lt;br /&gt;"Hmm... thanks man... But then I still can't believe what made her to do that...I didn't want to know how and where it all happened"&lt;br /&gt;"There will be few moments in life where no one can have a hold on his/her feelings..."&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah...  I understand that... so that's how I'm gonna be a father soon..."&lt;br /&gt;"that's cool bro..."&lt;br /&gt;"Chalo, let's go now we got a seminar in fifteen minutes..."&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, you carry on, will catch you in a moment. Have to make a call..."&lt;br /&gt;"Ok, cya then..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hello..."&lt;br /&gt;"Avinash????"&lt;br /&gt;"yeah me... I'm really feeling guilty for what happened... we shouldn't have done that... anyways by God's grace everything is fine now... you got give so much of love to Prasad from now on till your last breathe... Take care of yourself and goodbye".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;______________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That day I met Neelima  on New year's day party. I got so attracted to her that I couldn't take my eyes off her. Her friends forced her to drink. She had so much that she lost her senses. Neelima stayed back at her friend's place. On the way back to home my bike got skid and I got injured. My friend took me back to her home from the hospital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She ushered towards the room where I had to sleep. I accidentally got into Neelima's room.  As I  was  going out  Neelima held my hand and pulled onto the bed, she started kissing taking prasad's name. At that moment it hardly mattered what was happening I couldn't resist the animal instincts in me that night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next day she realized the terrible mistake  that happened that night.  I had really hard time consoling her. I felt guilty for what I did. She was shivering and crying, I didn't knew what to tell her. After shaking herself little bit she asked me not to tell this to anybody and never try to meet her....&lt;br /&gt;--------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt; THE END &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/21991499-6694204364378602827?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/6694204364378602827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2007/12/no-commitments-please-end.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/6694204364378602827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/6694204364378602827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2007/12/no-commitments-please-end.html' title='No Commitments please! (the end)'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/R1r0R6GsSKI/AAAAAAAAApU/PcNXjVuubXA/s72-c/twototango.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-8528827644374741900</id><published>2007-12-01T03:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T00:38:14.225-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fiction'/><title type='text'>No commitments please! part 5</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://newdelhi.usembassy.gov/uploads/images/cTv0rf62sInLsK8GKjro2A/aidsribbon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://newdelhi.usembassy.gov/uploads/images/cTv0rf62sInLsK8GKjro2A/aidsribbon.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/R1B2rKGsSJI/AAAAAAAAApM/gXv4NpqNyac/s1600-R/geeky_girl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/R1B2rKGsSJI/AAAAAAAAApM/SPEdjcHnMNc/s200/geeky_girl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138737658648610962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; continued from &lt;a href="http://hunky4gals.blogspot.com/search/label/fiction"&gt;here...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Germany made me feel nervous. When I went to S'pore I wasn't that nervous then. May be the age factor, I have become a responsible adult and this feeling made me feel lonely. Initially I had problem  in acclimatizing but as the days passed I got settled down. New people, new friends, new neighbors, even I started boozing now. My first cocktail was "sex in beach" and then  "long island", I started drinking beer like  water.&lt;span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather was always warm mainly but one day while coming back from my work place and all of sudden I was standing in the snowfall, ah! awesome was the word. It was only in movies I saw snowfall but now I'm standing in the snowfall! I wished neelima was here with me at this moment. I missed her badly. We haven't been in touch for ages, no phone call, no mail nothing. We took each other for granted. But then I wasn't having much time to think other than my research work. It was very  slow progressing one, takes months at times to see some progress into it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Staying in room with new people, they were of all kind, selfish, unselfish. But I learnt one thing  never rely on anyone, it's all you who's gonna help. I started knowing myself better now, saw the untamed world around me waiting to conquer me and destroy. I became kinda indifferent by nature, not bothered of what's happening around, all I bothered was me.  Can't even remember when was the  last I talked to dad, mom and poo.  Poo used to send mails and I hardly replied a couple of them. And no mail from Neelima, I thought of mailing one to her to know what's up with her. But felt weird to mail one, don't know why, just took her for granted and thought she was doing fine and so she would have mailed me if something was wrong. Not that I didn't mail any, mailed her couple of times but I didn't receive one reply for those mails.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was on the new year day I decided to make a call to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hello, neelima?"&lt;br /&gt;"Prasad?"&lt;br /&gt;"yea, how are you?"&lt;br /&gt;"I'm fine, and how are you?"&lt;br /&gt;"I'm ok, hey did you get my mails? I never received any reply for those..."&lt;br /&gt;"Ahh... I forgot to tell you, my ID got deleted, it's not active anymore... and I didnt have your email ID, I never memorised that...so.."&lt;br /&gt;"oh ok, anyways did you create one?"&lt;br /&gt;"yea...neelima_34@hotmail.com"&lt;br /&gt;"ok... hey happy new year maam"&lt;br /&gt;"thanks and wish you the same sir, so how are celebrating the eve?"&lt;br /&gt;"well, with  chivasregal..."&lt;br /&gt;"who? you colleague huh?"&lt;br /&gt;"hehehe...that's a hard drink neelu..."&lt;br /&gt;"When have you started this ?"&lt;br /&gt;"hey chill, just couple of pegs, it's very cold out here and right now I'm standing in the snowfall..."&lt;br /&gt;"hmm... I hope you are telling truth to me..."&lt;br /&gt;"oh cmon now, jus 2 pegs that's, jus to taste that's it..."&lt;br /&gt;"ok ok , your wish, just take care of yourself..."&lt;br /&gt;"yes maam"&lt;br /&gt;"hey prasad, your mom n dad have come to my house. I have to go....bye..."&lt;br /&gt;"oh! is it, give them the mobile I'll talk to them ..."&lt;br /&gt;"good joke! ok then I'm hanging up the phone..."&lt;br /&gt;"ok ok, love you, bye.."&lt;br /&gt;"love you too, bye.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I hung up the phone I felt too bad of me for the first time. I thought she wasn't bothering about me, but there she had a problem in contacting me, I'm  sitting here instead of calling her and asking how  was she...  I felt happy after talking to her...  everything seemed normal again... felt like I smiled after good one year and the effect was there because of that, my cheeks were paining...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As summer was approaching and my research work was running at a snail pace, saw hardly any developements so I kept myself busy with paper presentations. One day I got call from dad...&lt;br /&gt;"hello prasad, how are you?"&lt;br /&gt;"I'm fine dad, how are you, mom n poo?"&lt;br /&gt;"All are good prasad, prasad I thought of asking if you could come to India for couple of weeks, we want to see you prasad...."&lt;br /&gt;"I too want to come, I need a break.... ok dad, I'll do one thing, I'll check out if my batch mate can take up my work too for couple of weeks..."&lt;br /&gt;"Ok prasad, let me know when are going to come..."&lt;br /&gt;"ok dad..."&lt;br /&gt;"ok prasad, take care, bye..."&lt;br /&gt;"bye dad.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that call, I couldn't wait for to go home. Took off from the lab for the day and went back to room...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have shifted to new flat with Avinash last week, just two blocks away from the lab, my batch mate who just joined couple of months back. I told him the situation he readily agreed to cover up for me. Luckily my professor was going to Canada for a paper presentation there, he wasn't going to come back for a month and the developments of my work was hardly showing any improvements. These little things cleared all my tensions and I booked a flight ticket for next week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;........to be continued&lt;/span&gt;&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/21991499-8528827644374741900?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/8528827644374741900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2007/12/no-commitments-please-part-5.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8528827644374741900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/8528827644374741900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2007/12/no-commitments-please-part-5.html' title='No commitments please! part 5'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/R1B2rKGsSJI/AAAAAAAAApM/SPEdjcHnMNc/s72-c/geeky_girl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-6901180802746254270</id><published>2007-11-27T14:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T15:38:58.779-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='she'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crap'/><title type='text'>What do girls want? (my view)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www1.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/2872190/2/istockphoto_2872190_crazy_girl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www1.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/2872190/2/istockphoto_2872190_crazy_girl.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;I n t e&lt;/span&gt; resting topic, ain't it? yes of course. Girls will be very curious to know what the boys think about them now, and boys will also be equally curious to know what-actually-a-girl-want...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what do they want? no idea right... Well, I too have no idea but sometimes I try to observe the behavior of the girls while talking to them. Talking and observing? crap!! yeah it's an impossible task in your hands if you do both the things when you are with a girl. I succeeded few times to perform this feat. Mind you, you got to be mentally vigilant while doing this feat outside (kids are advised to keep off this feat, this feat is performed by pro's like me! :P ).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll not tell you guys what girls want, 'cus 99% girls will deny this... (remember the evergreen law, a girl will never accept things straight away... ;) but will prescribe few things while being with a girl....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;li&gt;If she's telling something, how crap it might be, let her finish first. Later you can tell your gossip piece to her. But she's not gonna show any interest on what you tell to her after (can't help it sir). Just let her do all the talking, but never forget to be with her. If you lose the track then only God has to help you. She will link the stories at her will, so try to memorize the things she says to you.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When she is down she will vent all her frustration on you, please restrain yourself from giving any solution for the problem shes having. Just be there with her will all the ears open.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Give some believable compliments now and then, it works many a times.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You can do whatever you want, whistling and hooting in a theater, shouting while riding, singing loudly in public place. You know what, many girls like this, so try to be yourself! this is your trump card...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Thats enough of prescription, follow above things you'll find new things by yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I think a girl want is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;li&gt;lots of chocolates&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;lots of gossips&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;lots of apparel&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;tonns of ice-creams&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;many puppies... (donno ''sup with puppies, I saw so many puppy pics in orkut albums. So lucky pups)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;lots of dresses&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;never ending list of sidney sheldon novels.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;fairytale prince on white horse.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Those are few things... ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Pure PUN intended stuff&lt;/span&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/21991499-6901180802746254270?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/6901180802746254270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2007/11/what-do-girls-want-my-view.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/6901180802746254270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/6901180802746254270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2007/11/what-do-girls-want-my-view.html' title='What do girls want? (my view)'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-5986419224448785183</id><published>2007-11-26T13:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T00:38:14.353-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='India'/><title type='text'>IDLy and Dosai!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/R0sV1uaIVmI/AAAAAAAAAoU/IKPmMOOsSdQ/s1600-h/t14.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/R0sV1uaIVmI/AAAAAAAAAoU/IKPmMOOsSdQ/s320/t14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137223812681061986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;dly and Dosa never tasted so yummy when I gulped them down into my tummy at 2230 hrs at the roadside bandi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My friend and I went out to grab a pizza after paying vodafone bill. As we were about to reach CCD near my house yummy steaming smell of idlies pulled us towards that bandi. Without any second thoughts in our minds we plunged  to grab the idlies.  Morsels of idly just melted in my mouth, and in this chilly weather outside those hot steaming idlies outscored to pizza. I can't tell you exactly how heaven like it tasted, the taste of any food can be relished very much only when you are damn hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;And the dosa was next after downing six idlies. It was overall a mouth watery session for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;BOTTOMLINE: East or West Idly &amp;amp; Dosai are the best!&lt;/span&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/21991499-5986419224448785183?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/5986419224448785183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2007/11/idly-and-dosai.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/5986419224448785183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/5986419224448785183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2007/11/idly-and-dosai.html' title='IDLy and Dosai!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/R0sV1uaIVmI/AAAAAAAAAoU/IKPmMOOsSdQ/s72-c/t14.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-5688145065213790167</id><published>2007-11-16T02:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T00:38:14.728-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cricket....'/><title type='text'>sachin jinx!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/Rz1cZuaIVlI/AAAAAAAAAm4/8PtPnv3YXxw/s1600-h/sachin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/Rz1cZuaIVlI/AAAAAAAAAm4/8PtPnv3YXxw/s200/sachin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5133360747296347730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So so Sachin falls yet again without a century this year for sixth time. Yea yea it does bother India and we are indeed waiting for the jinx to break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was surfing through the stupid channels in the television today and got glued to a news channel, having an interaction session with numerologist and astrologer who were doing a postmortem on the jinx.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astrologer says Sachin is a taurus by western astrologer and buffalo by chinese, and he goes to say that bull and buffalo are cousins and have same habits and Sachin has gotten into a rut and it's a habit that can't be get ridden easily. So his advice to the master blaster is to try to get out of that rut and he should start wearing a copper ring. OKKK!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now comes numerologist, according to him jersey number 10 is not an auspicious number in numerology. Number #10 is called as wheel of fortune in the numerology and is said to be inconsistent by nature. So what he advices our little master is to get rid of that jersey number 10 and start wearing the number 99. And also he should start wearing a diamond. Well it seems Anil Kumble has consulted this numerologist and he was adviced to wear a diamond and there he goes, he's captain of team India now. This numerologist was consulted by uthappa, sreesanth etc etc who according to him are doing great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both say that Sachin has another 2-3 years left in the world of cricket and 2008 is gonna be all hundreds and hundreds and we wait for those hundreds to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever, as long as India is doing a good job nothing bothers us, what say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/Rz1cDeaIVkI/AAAAAAAAAmw/Cvo9otNNTLk/s1600-h/prodigy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/Rz1cDeaIVkI/AAAAAAAAAmw/Cvo9otNNTLk/s200/prodigy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5133360365044258370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hey by the way, no one is saying anything about his MRF bat, may be he should change that... :P&lt;/span&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/21991499-5688145065213790167?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/5688145065213790167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2007/11/sachin-jinx.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/5688145065213790167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/5688145065213790167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2007/11/sachin-jinx.html' title='sachin jinx!'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/Rz1cZuaIVlI/AAAAAAAAAm4/8PtPnv3YXxw/s72-c/sachin.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-7693814959292531666</id><published>2007-11-13T17:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T00:38:14.959-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fiction'/><title type='text'>No commitments please! part# 4</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/RzolPyZw7pI/AAAAAAAAAmg/lRtIFermHXU/s1600-h/0000037782_20070214173928.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/RzolPyZw7pI/AAAAAAAAAmg/lRtIFermHXU/s200/0000037782_20070214173928.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132455678500204178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Continued from &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://hunky4gals.blogspot.com/search/label/fiction"&gt;here...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Days passed away in a blink and I didn't realize that I'm into final sem now. The project work has sucked all my energy. And I was busy applying for Ph. D, got an offer from Germany. But I just had one month for vacation as I have to be in Germany by then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neelima has stopped mailing me, neither I mailed any message to her. We weren't in touch with each other for one full year. I didn't come to India during sem break, as I got an offer to assist my professor in his research work. I became so submerged into these things in s'pore that I hardly made a call to home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After getting graduated and the graduation party without wasting any time I caught the next day first flight to India. I felt so happy to come back home after two long tiring years, but then the thought of going to Germany in another couple of months ruined my happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom and dad came to airport to receive me and my sis too. I asked my dad not to inform anybody about my returning for at least 2 days. Mom inspected me with watery eyes even dad too. I felt so secured, after seeing them all my mental stress vanished, poof!. Even poo wasn't blabbering anything  while coming in cab.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as I entered my room, poo attacked me from behind. She pushed into the bed and jumped with a pillow and started banging me with the pillow.&lt;br /&gt;"what the heck do you think of yourself, you nerdy ass?"&lt;br /&gt;"Oi poo, ass?"&lt;br /&gt;"yes!, you are such an ass****... don't talk to me at all"&lt;br /&gt;I knew at once for the reason poo being mad on me. I didn't wish her on her b'day last week.&lt;br /&gt;"I...I ... sorry yaar, c'mon now, you know me how much I love my sis... if I forgot to wish you on your b'day ... ok , well , forget it, I'm really sorry, tell me what should I do for you?"&lt;br /&gt;"Get lost ok, I hate you dumbo!", Poo shouted at me and went to her room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the night when everyone slept, I slowly sneaked into poo's room and placed a bag in her bed and came back to my room. Back to room I closed my door and digged my lappy's bag for davidoff. Ah! a cigarette after 24 hours. I got into this stupid habit of smoking in s'pore. Luckily I had control over my smoking habit but then at least one cigarette per day became necessity for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next day morning I woke up after being disturbed by poo's weight on me, again!. Before I said anything she gave a peck on my forehead. She was smiling with her cute dimples.&lt;br /&gt;"Hmm, so I'm an ass****, huh?"&lt;br /&gt;"yes, you shouldn't have any doubt about that bro... anyways thanks for the teddy, and I have given it a name too, Junglee. How's it?"&lt;br /&gt;"Hey c'mon poo, why you calling the poor thing with your name"&lt;br /&gt;"hellooo..." poo was getting geared up to bang with the pillow again. I caught her neck and took her into the balcony.&lt;br /&gt;"Hey poo, you know what, I have to go to Germany for my Ph.D in another one and half months... hmmm"&lt;br /&gt;"aww, shit yaar, too much, you didn't even inform this to mom and dad yet..."&lt;br /&gt;"No I didn't wantedly... will tell them after two or three days, and you don't tell anybody please..."&lt;br /&gt;"OK. OK... and I have booked tickets for om shanti om, evening show,..."&lt;br /&gt;"woohoo cool..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After week or so, one day dad called me and asked what are my next plans. I informed him about Ph.D thing. He felt happy about that but mom came rushing from the kitchen...&lt;br /&gt;"No way... you aren't going anywhere. Better stay here and do some job, enough of studying and staying away from home for years... "&lt;br /&gt;"Hmm... Ok ok... chicken curry is getting over roasted on the stove go and check I'm hungry..."&lt;br /&gt;"you don't have to tell..." she said and went back into the kitchen room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad took me into the veranda and asked me how long it would take to finish my Ph.D. It's not that he being a professor hasn't got any idea about Ph.D but the distance is what keeps his worried.&lt;br /&gt;"Dad, you know that it's gonna take yrs... and I want to go for it..."&lt;br /&gt;"Your wish Prasad... your mom is insisting me to get you married now itself, you know why..."&lt;br /&gt;"No marriage nothing, please dad...please, I'm not thinking about it now.."&lt;br /&gt;"Hmm..yea..",&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the day has come for me to leave to Germany. I had mixed feelings filled in me. I decided that after Ph.D I'm coming back to India forever and do whatever I want to. Neelima's call that day woke me up. I just forgot about her. I felt so bad about this. All of a sudden some kinda voidness got created in me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up from the reverie when the air hostess announced that we were about to reach the destination in another thirty minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;........to be continued&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&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/21991499-7693814959292531666?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/7693814959292531666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2007/11/no-commitments-please-part-4.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7693814959292531666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/7693814959292531666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2007/11/no-commitments-please-part-4.html' title='No commitments please! part# 4'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/RzolPyZw7pI/AAAAAAAAAmg/lRtIFermHXU/s72-c/0000037782_20070214173928.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21991499.post-6664660047086409084</id><published>2007-11-06T22:25:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T00:38:15.814-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me..'/><title type='text'>The patch up...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/RzE47_HBpmI/AAAAAAAAAmI/hXDTGKD3mVo/s1600-h/lovers-capo-mola.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/RzE47_HBpmI/AAAAAAAAAmI/hXDTGKD3mVo/s200/lovers-capo-mola.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129944053756044898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Finally after four years we talked openly last night. I stopped talking to her when I was in engg first year and then I broke the ice on the farewell day. But then we didn't patch up properly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is my classmate and at one juncture my the best friend. I still count on her given any day. She is very cribbing kind and then tad bit sensitive. We used to wait for the labs cus' my roll number is after her and we always been in one team in all four years, the fun we had in labs, the never ending gossips, the comments. She wrote lab notes and assignments for me while I was busy having masti. And on my b'day she told she'll call at 12 in the night to wish and when she couldn't make the call she had watery eyes next day. All went fine until one day where I stopped talking to her. I can't reveal the reasons. She tried to talk to me but I walked away ignoring her. And when I started feeling guilty and started thinking how to patch up with her our engg finished. Thanks to Karthik, our classmate who played the cupid in breaking the ice between us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though we said sorry to each other we didn't patch up. She caught me online one day and vent all her frustration, I couldn't console her. I couldn't tell her the exact reasons for not talking to her after first year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hurt her badly and I felt guilty for that. When I was going through rough phase she was there for me keeping all the bitterness aside. And after that we talked to each other last night whole heartedly, told each other how badly we missed each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I deserved to be slapped!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey bud, I'm really sorry for whatever I did to you. And thank you so much for forgiving me. Missed you like hell all these years.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21991499-6664660047086409084?l=www.brutescolumn.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/feeds/6664660047086409084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2007/11/patch-up.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/6664660047086409084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21991499/posts/default/6664660047086409084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.brutescolumn.com/2007/11/patch-up.html' title='The patch up...'/><author><name>brute</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03228445892688150917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/S47WZH5XBXI/AAAAAAAADD8/7jHL148RsNQ/s1600-R/OAAAAOOle1SIh8i3KyN10Kp9lFoU9-y54J50p5Vcjt9c7WPlhTsuc56rupP6X1hyk6Hpqk5GL6NhHD7SvFnYRs5dT88Am1T1UDHM727sbfdnmUxc0ggJazFI2s_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EP_gkx2de6M/RzE47_HBpmI/AAAAAAAAAmI/hXDTGKD3mVo/s72-c/lovers-capo-mola.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
