Something..

The last time i thought to be here (the blog) was in the tenth month of 2010. The calendar today says twelfth of the twelfth month. Unfortunately the last cut couldn't be published due to certain unavoidable circumstances.
Well the numerology's don't bother me personally but certainly put me in different emotional states, while looking at it practically.

Going by the weather its winter again, but the local temperatures hover around 69 degrees. The mornings are soft with pleasant breeze around, the afternoons go along with several cups of tea and the evenings end up being exhaustive.

After being through long hours of boredom and absolute joblessness, i finally entered the corporate world as a millionth lemming, trying rigorously to conquer a drop before the ocean tides sweep away.

The workplace follows its own cult culture, which goes along nicely. The environment is good with greater amount of global influences rather than local.
Typical stereotypes, chauvinistic ideas and clumsy politics are quite far off. It is certainly one of those places you look forward to be in the next day.

So life has taken over a change in some aspects. 'Aut viam inveniam aut faciam' - I'll either find a way or make one. I certainly don't endorse the tag line but the truth is that i have found a way or may be I'm trying to do something new, whichever may sound logical.
But after a treacherous shift of 14 hours a day, as i head back to my dug out, there is something that's missing, there is something that's lost, something is void, something is absent, something that exists no more...

You may by now be blaming of being so ungrateful towards life. I mean what more can one expect from his/her absolutely (once) non-happening life.
yea! but there remains a striking difference if anyone bothers to look through it.

For instance, i build a multi - storey estate but eventually fail to complete the top floor for some reason, it goes missing, there is something that's missing.
Again, i build a chain with each grid locking onto the next and so on, until a ring goes missing, it's all complete but the ring, there is something that's missing.

Unfortunately everything seems to be like the chain when at the end of the day there is something that's missing. It's more to be like a Ham Burger without Ham, a pizza without it's base, a teriyaki with no vinegar. It's NOT like a zinger with no extra mayonnaise.
(I may sound a little foodie, since I'm currently surviving on a weird combinational diet !!)

...

'A lot can happen over a coffee' reads the baseline of Cafe Coffee Day™® .

A lot did happen as i shared the table amidst the flickering morning sunlight with a colleague. She did seem interested in knowing things about me, but after leaving the place after about 120 minutes there was nothing that i could look back, nothing that i may recall.
Rolling the reels to few months back, i still relish the time i shared the same chilled Irish coffee with a friend, again being from the fairer sex.

There is something that misses every moment..

Life goes on they say, you meet new people, you gain new experiences but do you meet new friends ??

There is something that misses every moment..

I realised that meeting people doesn't create much difference while meeting friends does. Now it may entirely depend upon how much or rather to what extent do you value or space a friend in your life OR rather the percentage of your life you dedicate to him/her.
Well life's too busy to think about so many people, if that's the case there may be something missing at the top of the multi storey, Otherwise there is something that misses every moment..

A text of two words, a verbal of few verbs forms an arbitrary link to complete the mysterious chain. It temporarily attracts charges, in a region of high electro negativity, to form successful bonds, and eventually turns the atom neutral again.(excerpts from: Fools on Chemistry© - Prof. Saad).

Having come along a long way in life, there is something that misses every moment..

As i reach out to conclude this little chapter today, let's hope to fill this little voids of life one day.(De Profoundus Clamo ad te domine). Living through every second with the same guilt does have an impact on the overall personality, but i can only hope that things be better one sunny morning.
There was something that had been oscillating along for so many days, may not have come up clearly but, this was a little note put up only to say..

I miss.. a friend.. cuz there is something that misses every moment..

signing off..
mE 'n mA lonE souL

Tick - Tick - Boom

0208 hrs. - 10 / 03 / 2010

Starting off to a peculiarly unusual feel this time around, for the tête-à-tête with a close buddy ticked me off to a vague mood that triggered a series of clustered thoughts as to what in veracity people oblige and visualize off of you.

As divulged earlier, the very idea of what each person implies when they pronounce “I love you” perplexes me. Well, some people love other people, some love money, some love their possessions and some love themselves. Hardly any people had exposé their ‘love’ for me and I have been quiet moved for I’m not the nearest and dearest of theirs, nor had I done anything at all to deserve such perplex remarks. Skeptical on why anyone would ‘love’ me, I began to assemble the fact-jigsaw – How could anyone love me? What did I possess for anybody to love me? Ought I to be loved although I didn’t love anyone or anything? I did not even love myself.

Subsequent to discovering this information, thinking profoundly, glancing into my inner vision, I initiated an investigation to uncover the truth for myself. I didn’t love anyone, anything in material, money, or my own self. And now, I had stopped caring for the same.

Discerned now of the truth that I’d ceased to care, questions started to rain as to why had that happened? Did I believe that the realm of humanity had stopped doing the same for me? Was it because of forgotten birthdays? Was it because of the allusion of lies from the ones closest to me? Was it because of wrecked weekends that I desired to expend like the old days, but weren’t doable in view of the fact that they’d got newer friends who’re cooler and closer than me that they just don’t have enough time for me. But though I consider to a great extent for them, I stand as veto substance for them and it just doesn’t matter in reality for them.

It’s generally the smaller things in my life that make me happy. But as times change, people change. I don’t know why I could never be normal, never love anyone, never love material possessions, never love myself, could never be self-centered, self-interested, selfish or could never be human. Now that I have impeded concerns over every matter, I sense, as each day of the week passes, I turn more and more inhuman.

But its fine, I’ll try living without them, just clinging onto the implication that their new friends shall keep them happy. Hopefully you’ll find someone to replace me. In the end, it’s all nice and pleasant.

Kal koi tha yahii,
Ab koi bhi nahii
Ab toh dil roothe dard manane,
Aisi hai tanhaaii
Saaya bhi saath jab chchodh jaaye,
Aisi hai tanhaaii

What I had when I was a child wasn’t with me anymore. Who I was amongst, had I lost. Not familiar who has been gone or who is missing today. Is it someone I had known or was it one that I didn’t? Or is it just myself who isn’t with me today? Maybe it is me, walking through ruins lacking my shadow, weeping through the hours of night devoid of tears, living through life without a pulse in my heart along a path of thorns amidst darkness of sorrow. Perhaps I had lost myself whilst assuming that a friend had been misplaced. Having lost trust in my self-right to suicide, I deserve to die.

Do We, Do We Know?
When We Fly,
When We Go,
Do We Die?

- Q

Tandoori Nights

After long hours of battle within conscious, the axial dendrites seem to lose charge, the reflexes are quite lazy to guide through the blog, however being at this old friend is always a laudable endeavor apart from certain changes with the vocab levels being held up at a new high (thnx to Q), it was sweet to say the least for the coded comprehension to be tabled.
I certainly affirm that you'll have better times being here.

Apart from the constant rants happening in life, i grew over a new fascination this weekend, to explore and galore through an Anglo - Persian (i dunno if i put that right) term 'tandoor'.

A Tandoor (Armenian: Թոնիր) is a cylindrical clay oven used in cooking and baking. The stuff kept inside is cooked under intense temperatures, with the outcome being quite remarkable in terms of flavor. (Refer: Tandoori Chicken, Chicken Tikka etc..)

Going through the status updates at facebook, struck me at a one liner, which apprehended that a roasted (Tandoori) piece of meat actually is more worth than in its lively state.

Having said that, and browsing through all the possible usage of the term i wonder which sane lyricist came up with "Tandoori Nights"(a Bollywood song). Well the tune is quite mesmerizing when all your senses have had over loading shares of disgust, disbelief, dis honored, dis stressed experience, with even the oxygen choking through the bronchi-oles the nasal melody breathes in a new brand in flavor.

In a state of mind which is being appreciative of the rare archives of the glorious Indian music industry I no longer deem to analyze any of its further consequences, something at the back of the mind propelled this urge to take a dig at some situations happening around. It seems that all of them have their own bite of sugar and spices.Well interesting !!

With soaring temperatures over Moscow, the smog over the city have brought about the worst economic and health crisis in the country and with more and more women shedding if their coverings Mr. Putin is certainly having an awesome period of Tandoori Nights.
The BP oil spill off the gulf of Mexico gave the Obama administration and the CEO of the enterprise, its own peculiar flavor of Tandoori Nights.

Tandoori nights may not necessarily be the lighted up festive experience as it is incomplete without the flames that engulf through the molecules of the dead meat, so it may vary in experiences within its allowable limits. It might be a painful, uncomfortable experience or maybe one of the hottest nights !! Anyways after failing once again in all aspects of professional and personal life, created a greater void to accommodate all the random adverbs, plurals and vibes to hide through the incompetency levels and avoid emotions linked with the ultimate failure.

So once again getting into the taste of Mr. Reshammiyya's (from the nasal - the creator and mentor of the most enterprising tune) tune the current organizers of the Common Wealth Games 2010 (CWG - '10) are having a Tandoori Night with regard to the completion of the infrastructure to host a successful event.

The Greek financial are grueling through their worst ever economic slum burst as the whole nation brinks on the verge of bankruptcy voila.. "tadoorious nightious !" (trying to sound along the lines of Zeus and Hephaestus !!)
Touring over France and Deutschland the law makers are quite affirmative that an obnoxious secret flavor (may be a Tandoori ) emerges behind the black veil (and so they have to implement a ban) as Mr. Sarkozy dares to imagine a plastered Carla Bruni which would certainly obstruct the sleazy Tandoori Nights that both of them share amidst the glare of some vanilla candles. It wouldn't be long that we have a TV advertisement promoting "kozyforce" contraceptives (instead of Manforce®™).

Well I just realized the 15th of the month just got away, as it certainly carries numerous significances apart from being illustrative that half the month is gone and their still another half to be live upon.

Coming to the 15th, the Indians celebrated their 63rd Independence Day as the Blue turbanator flew atop the historic Red Fort(well the color combination was absolutely gay to watch !!).
Independence certainly have different meanings for different people in the country. Most of the bureaucrats and top leaders believe in independently accumulating enormous amounts of so called "public wealth" and actually make the ordinary countrymen in-dependent.
Tandoori Nights - poor countrymen..

Moving on, I would certainly lent honest wishes for all those whom the 15th matters !
Well so much about the country reminded me of the meanings of Independence from the eyes of scholars i.e. a freedom (independence) of speech and expression. I take this grand opportunity to openly express my views and reviews on different aspects and people.. ( independent to use the names !!)

The little bug inside my cerebrum suggests me that I'm free to criticize the Obama's, punch remarks on the French, concern over Iran, help Pakistan flood victims, voice concerns over military siege in Uganda, monitor the growing relations between Mr. Chavez and Cuba, wonder when does the next Rio festival begin, or simply think and express my feelings on Tandoori Nights !

Coming along, approximately 15 days before the actual 15th a little molecule of salt water gasped its final moments on the edge of the semi organic cliffs of a sparsely haired semi - manly chest, as Ms. Anuja dissolved herself into the solvent of her hubbies love.
Come 15th the reds went on reds as the lips locked in the rear of a speeding German engineered automotive on an Arabian highway, smudging into an air of eternity and divinity a sparkling drop of fluid emerged of the french kiss bearing a new gene (A^A !!).

I wonder about the share of Tandoori Nights that the molecules of air and water went through !

Keeping a track of the air around, the yellow walls of the 8th villa down street bore down the temperatures of lifetime as Mr. Rashid closed down with his breath on a mobile device, the person on the other side being open for guesses. The entire scene was as though he could feel the presence of the anonymous on the slippery walls.

I wonder why do I wonder about the Tandoori Nights of the molecules ! Poor wall !

Clinging on with the same creature Mr. Rashid envied as Mr. Advait hugged on with Ms. Miti at some black background (http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/photo.php?pid=14344008&id=653235726&ref=fbx_album), but I always thought Mr. Rashid wanted his Tandoori Nights with a special "Ms. **..", well you never know the scenarios seem to be complementing the names along !
Anyway it was a cute picture to say the least.. apart from the Tandoori Nights !!

Let me remind all .. I feel quite Independent today !!

Holding along with my beloved molecules Ms Zakiya prays to lord each day that the tattered over bridge connecting her village with the hubbies vicinity don't get damaged in the rains or floods else Mr Shadab would be stranded with his procession midway ... aaah !! only wondering for the Tandoori Nights to come ..

So having almost touched up every possible link of mine and exploring the entire possibilities and probabilities of tandoori nights I wish to share a link and request every one to lend some time and jingle through !! the jinga lala !! Tandoori Nights !!!

signing off..
mE 'n mA lonE souL

Disclaimer: Any resemblance to any one living or dead in the article is purely coincidental.
I duly respect the existence and rights of all the chickens and its related Animals.

The Link: http://dc165.4shared.com/img/60703979/a1690148/dlink__2Fdownload_2FZuK5eGua_3Ftsid_3D20100805-002913-555058db/preview.mp3

Miasma of Memoirs

0207 hrs. 08/13/2010

The following piece of script or should I say hodgepodge is collaged on exceptional request of a certain LonE soUL & the necessity of a junior essayist.

Not acquainted with responsibilities and prowess of my predecessor, I take up the position of a skilled writer that is not to be misinterpreted as a plot of dethroning controversy from my behalf.

This recounting is written as to my best remembrance. All personal realities, relations and emotions comparable to this describing are absolutely a concurrence. All is put in writing by a nonsensical novice and is not criticized or directed at any person intentionally of for kicks.


A day waiting to end in front of an empty diary, asked if it were ‘private’ by someone close to me. Private it was, but it’d been longing to be penned into for seven years. Set aside carefully before I was parting my cherished friends for something I thought was more valuable to me, ‘Education’. Balls if I’d known better, was 14 then; that leaving them behind wouldn’t be as uncomplicated & painless as portrayed. Attempted to delay things, even stopped for ice-cream in effort to miss my flight that would depart to the longest two years of my life. Didn’t work, couldn’t have, I was travelling to India after all; the flight had to be delayed on technical grounds. Left a country that I used to call ‘home’, to a new house, that would now forcibly be called my new home. Left to a weeping voice of “Don’t Go!”. Wouldn’t have if I’d have continued for a few more seconds of that call.

Got upgraded to business class for leaving my home country that didn’t give a shit ‘bout what or who you are.

Luggaged with a heavy heart and my life in the suitcase, I travelled with the sobbing conversations echoing in my ears & heavily watering eyes to a new ‘house’. That foul city smell didn’t suit me, that uncooked food didn’t suit me, nor did that contaminated water. I still tried to make an effort. Travelling to colleges and soliciting for admissions where eyes trailed me and focused on each step, uttering a word wasn’t any easier than making eye-contact. Colossal helping got me pushed into a college that students can just fantasize about. By the time I started, about two weeks into college, making friends wasn’t effortless either.

Don’t know if it’s the right time, but I’m gonna say it nonetheless, coz this part is from my heart. I’m gonna take this space out for myself as this is a delicate matter, and no fractions here are falsely fabricated, I’ll add. I’m grateful. No, I’m honoured to be a part of the life I’ve shared with my friends. Wouldn’t have, couldn’t have done it not including them, or in an improved manner. I just realized how difficult it is to truthfully say ‘Thank You’. For being there, for staying by me, for listening to me, for putting up with me, for doing stuff with me that I couldn’t have done unaccompanied, for being by me when I couldn’t have been by myself, for being silent when I’m pissed, for being pissed when I’m silent, for consenting me for being alone when I had to be, for confiding in me, for trusting in me, for keeping my trust, for the joys, for the sorrows, for the laughter, for the tears, for the cheers, for the depression, for making me happy, for making me miserable, for making me who I am. Thank You. :')

Enough tears for now, following up to my work.

For a couple of weeks it was difficult to adjust to a race that I’d not envisioned to exist in, who wouldn’t. But then I heard a familiar voice. Someone I’d known all these years was in the same country as I was in, a nights travel away though but the sentiments of somebody being at a place where the solitary soul I thought to know was myself is unexplainable. Appreciating God and realizing again that He does not overlook His beings; I started to take pleasure in the tiny things that wouldn’t matter to you; the food that you wouldn’t want the aroma of, let alone consume; the people you wouldn’t want to meet, let alone chat to; the rooms you wouldn’t want to visit, let alone sleep in; the classes you wouldn’t want to attend, let alone study them; the vehicles you wouldn’t want to notice, let alone travel in; the neighbours you wouldn’t bear with, let alone befriending their pets that create a hullabaloo throughout each night.

Seconds passed into minutes. Minutes passed into hours. Hours passed into days. Days passed through the nights, passing into weeks. Weeks passed through the months. Each day replicating itself over and over again. Finally I got a chance to visit the country I was born in, a country I called home. Memories torrent through my head, reminiscence of weeping eyes I’d left behind.

And here you think it’s over,
For the only thing worse be death.
When at last you believe it’ll work out,
There’ll be no more troubles left;
There vaguely shall remain a Miasma of Memoirs.

So I left my now so-called ‘home’ to my real home for a tiny retreat from the stuff that I’d been frustrating from every single night.

Snap! The time passes and I’m back to where I didn’t want to be. The familiar voice helps me through day after day of my woes, the guidance from his lexis throughout the hours of darkness and the comfort from his expressions through every footstep of insomniac walks all throughout college days.

When one monotonous day, unanticipated by me, he announced his depart to connect the dots of his life together. The motionlessness of my verve commences, blamed on the towering expectations that I’d reserved on the personage. Each infinitesimal moment was counted and accounted for. Living through this outlandish life as a horrendous nightmare; at a snail's pace I acknowledged this nation as my new ‘home’. Deeming this environment as mine, the acquaintances as friends, the relatives as brothers, spending life as an aimless arrow, I got used to what I’d be compelled to call ‘life’.

Years passed & after the conclusion of college, future directionally to veto, I determined, I’d set off back to where I was thirsting and yearning to be – my birth country. Leaving my ‘home’ behind wasn’t straightforward as imagined again, as acquiring a partiality to this ‘life’ wasn’t in actuality a cakewalk.

Ironically, I got upgraded to business class for leaving my ‘home’ country that didn’t give a shit ‘bout what or who you are.

Makes me conjecture occasionally, where do you in fact belong? Is what you call ‘home’, in reality your home? The people you care for, do they care for you? What you’d for someone, would they do the same for you? What you feel for someone, do they feel the same for you? What you say to someone, do you mean it? Do they? Your love for someone, is it the same for you? When you say ‘I Love You’, do you mean it? Do they? What is love?

- Q

to whom do I belong ??

The sun shines brighter as the clock reads 14:41 with the rays fighting through the molecules of the curtain, faint along the air inside the room, to be bright enough and let the black ink roll along the pages legibly and lawfully.
I had a strange feeling this time around as I landed at the Dubai international airport. I wonder if I have been over that feeling.The brain still recoils on the decision that brought me here. Having taken that step it’s almost the end of my stay permit in this country, as it enters the countdown...

The local authorities make it clear that no visitor shall be allowed to exceed the stay period at any circumstance or expense.Well it remains a fact that this country actually bears a huge no. of blue passport holders inhabiting their land, so they have had enough...

In the race of securing a work permit, I crossed a personal landmark of triple hundred applications to different firms and corporate with another record of absolute zero replies.The beautiful new, fresh, shining gloss on my bachelor’s degree doesn’t seem to fascinate the Human Resource Managers.

In simple words of literature, all firms do not require any kinds of me. (I might not be sure about kinds but I’m sure about myself), so I have had the honor and pleasure to be on the block list of all enterprises.

The other day I suffered a serious stomach ache, having going along the pain I suddenly thought of returning to a place known as god's own country (apparently!).
Well there the prime minister himself wants people to die of hunger due to increasing price rise, so that the country gets rid of poverty ridden people (as alleged by the left - communists).
The party seated in the opposition of the legislature feels all personnel with any influence of "khan" in their existing/past history are terrorist, so should not be allowed to live in the country.
The recession free (self proclaimed) companies here do not even bother spatting at an unemployed beggar.

Back at home, my repeated jobless sights ticks the pressure meters every moment, siblings seem to have a problem with the way I live and the elders repent the decision they came to twenty two years ago. The air in and out of my system stinks the entire living room atmosphere as I being the major constituent of the slow poison being injected onto my Masters.

Having stepped out, I seem to be the common link among some of my peers experiencing mis happenings because of me. It was all right unless I entered into their lives (at least some of them).I might not bother elaborating, but the fact remains some where down the line.

Flowing through the uncontrolled emotion (for the countless time) I recalled my lord! Again, my religion asks me to pray at a frequency of five per day. Having failed to do so I do not even belong to that community.

Wondering at all the possible aspects of life and living, looking back at all the possibilities and probabilities of the happenings, kindling along all the positives and negatives I stick upon a simple question...

Whom do I belong to??


at 15:51
mE 'm mA lonE SouL

A week along..

In the wake of events happening, i thought to be back at my old friend. Well, it's a new fountain pen this time around, things haven't changed much, except for the cumulative aggregate of my academic career. Following the trends of global recession, the grand total hits its lowest mark in the eventful semester. On a hapless back of an unemployed, disregarded, non productive, non functional engineer, the trotting graph line shuts down all final hopes for a better happening.

Modifying an infamous movie dialogue, it hurts when one fails and it hurts more when there is a friend along with you. I wonder why does this life always hurts ?? Or wonder if life is all about being hurt..

It's been quite a period being with this old friend of mine, but i haven't stopped wondering each time i have been here, things haven't changed much though..It's pretty weird, but it gets more difficult day by day dealing along with different situations..

Now that's history looking at the time has gone by that "incident".

It's almost been a month and half at this place know, i came here as a fresh graduate looking for employment. Having forwarded resumes to over a decade count, this job hunting brought about a new revelation inside me, people don't even bother to consider me for an interview, selection seems to be on the other side of the highway.

After stumbling through four years of graduation, i start as a beginner again.. I'm a fresher.
wowa ! Things never change it seems, i was born 21 years ago, i was new, i went to my first school .. New.. Each year i went to a 'new' class, four years back i was a new high school teenager, i began new at my college and four years after I'm fresh again. I wonder which sane logic in this world actually justifies that. One common link that binds the entire fairy tale is 'new'.

Generally new stuffs are quite in demand in the market like a new i-pad, a new i-phone, a new soccer tune its world cup fever i suppose, a new HD television, a new streaming bandwidth heard of 4g i dunno, a new lounge/bar in town etc.. apart from stuffs a new governor, a new financial policy, a new president a new market strategy always is welcomed by the people of a country at least for the purpose of experiencing a change.

But (having used that word so often let make it clear that Christiano Ronaldo does fantasize me nor am i a pervert obsessed female lover..) so,
but there is no place in this place for a new graduate, well certainly for me..

There seem to be no point being positive anymore. I saw the glass half empty for seven semesters of my bachelors i succeeded securing a CGPA of around 6.8, i thought the glass may be half full during the final moments - thanks to a ....- my CGPA came to an amazing 6.51.
Generally the irrelevant and insignificant second digit after the decimal place contains a higher value for at least visionary satisfaction, buts it's the least in this case to depict an absolute loser.

Well, job hunting seems to be quite interesting, with absolutely nothing to do the entire day, go through all similar rants throughout the day, bear the antique saga of sweet chants of our beloved eleders, sit back and pretend to relax at the age old music play list..

The walls are closing on me..
Its hard to find relief

I need to fall apart..
I hope I'm not all alone..

Adding a cherry on the cake, a friend just reminded me, things have changed and even you have !! I dunno..Well it has, people maybe.. Let's see
people don't love each other anymore, i have started writing on the diary again, newspaper no longer carry the news from Palestine, Indians seem to have forgotten the naxals, relationships no longer stand their meaning, people don't tend to reply e-mails, mobile phones are no longer meant to answer calls, gay couples begin to have kids, people seem to be dying having a glass of natural vegetable extracts, i seem to be quoting English songs, best of all I'm no more anti-feminist (Lolz!).

But i dunno, that's the way it is and unfortunately life seems to have again stranded in a no man's land.Having bragged everything out, it seems quite better to feel a lighter heart.
thank you friends !

running short of any more vocabs, lets hope that things do work out, things be in their right place and be happy ever again.

Signing Off..
mE 'n mA lonE SouL

P.S. who knows life may be waiting for a praise from a true friend.. kyunki.. azeezon ki dua qubool hoti hai.. so keep praying and do remember me !! keep me posted !!

02:04 HRS

It's quite difficult to begin from where had i left. I remember a friend alleging me of the fault, I have improved my pal, I thought you would like to know.
I'm back at my birth land, for the unknown masses and it's not the same, things have changed they say, i heard that from a well wisher as i stood outside the funeral of a dad, may his soul rest in peace, may all his wrong deeds be pardoned.

It's quite awkward to return to the faithful papyrus and pen, my technological output being currently out of order(the entire note had been originally coined on a diary). It's been time since the last time i wrote this way. I hold a fountain pen after a gap of almost 7 years, yea right, things have changed..

All through the years of graduation had I wished to be at this place, but the very breath of its environment chokes my under renovation wind pipes.. things have changed, yea right !

There was supposed to be a blog entry on leaving the grad school, but the overflowing emotions halted the rail of thoughts. It was a teary adieu at the Chaudhary Charan Singh International Airport as I turned my back at the entrance of the ultimate destination.
I remember a last promise from a friend .. "I won't change.." How could i have asked for more from such a precious soul.
I wonder what awaits me at this rather new place, things have changed yea !

Hoping through a million hopes, I can only hope that things turn out good."It's all LYF..", they say as I read a small note hid inside my hand baggage.

Carving through the entire essence of each ultimate note that I carried, I was pushed back miles.. huh.. things have changed.. dunno, the fountain pen actually stopped working as i switched on a new ink roller onto my pages.
So as was I, being pushed backed miles into fear of being in an entirely new place with rather new changes.

I wonder what do I expect from life or what exactly life expects from me ??

Realizing through all changed thoughts, I thought again to be an improved surviving lemming and shortly be coming up with better news and thoughts.
As all, let's hope that everything works out well and all the good things happen in life..

signing off..
mE 'n mA lonE souL