<?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-33273242</id><updated>2012-02-06T08:35:58.336-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What?</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>49</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-6677423741425943274</id><published>2011-04-11T08:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-11T08:09:31.235-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have a nomad in me&lt;br /&gt;I see the world through her eyes&lt;br /&gt;I drape myself in the winds of change&lt;br /&gt;I travel and I sit still&lt;br /&gt;I look around, up and straight&lt;br /&gt;I am a wandering soul&lt;br /&gt;I am the sea&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-6677423741425943274?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/6677423741425943274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=6677423741425943274' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/6677423741425943274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/6677423741425943274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-have-nomad-in-me-i-see-world-through.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-1334799786765839774</id><published>2011-03-06T00:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-06T00:51:02.698-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>She felt mysterious&lt;br /&gt;She was still a puzzle &lt;br /&gt;To many &lt;br /&gt;To all &lt;br /&gt;Except herself&lt;br /&gt;All ribboned up&lt;br /&gt;Sitting pretty in a corner&lt;br /&gt;An unopened present, she was&lt;br /&gt;Like life.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-1334799786765839774?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/1334799786765839774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=1334799786765839774' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/1334799786765839774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/1334799786765839774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2011/03/she-felt-mysterious-she-was-still.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-1428950850240016864</id><published>2010-11-27T22:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-27T23:01:59.251-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>From a book I'm currently reading (I know just what you mean)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;'We talk, therefore we are friends' &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-1428950850240016864?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/1428950850240016864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=1428950850240016864' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/1428950850240016864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/1428950850240016864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2010/11/from-book-im-currently-reading-i-know.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-7086305988584694379</id><published>2010-06-06T04:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T04:13:31.322-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I wish I were a butterfly, elusive &lt;br /&gt;I wish I were the earth, motley&lt;br /&gt;I wish I were the sky, expansive&lt;br /&gt;I wish I were a present, waiting to be opened&lt;br /&gt;I wish I were wanderer, freedom&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-7086305988584694379?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/7086305988584694379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=7086305988584694379' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/7086305988584694379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/7086305988584694379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-wish-i-were-butterfly-elusive-i-wish.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-7394402742358177004</id><published>2010-01-10T05:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T05:39:59.410-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>'Contentment is the key word'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has a cosy sound to it, doesn't it?'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-7394402742358177004?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/7394402742358177004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=7394402742358177004' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/7394402742358177004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/7394402742358177004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2010/01/contentment-is-key-word-it-has-cosy.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-6515319969536587463</id><published>2009-06-27T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T19:56:22.513-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A friend told me sometime back - You don't allow yourself to experience it. So, don't go around, blaming the world for it. The truth of the statement hit me hard. The 'IT', I am assuming, can be synomymous with any positive emotion, ranging from 'Happiness' to 'Love'. A silent reflection of the 'Whys and the Whats' of the statement made me conclude that the reason is quite simple. I don't LIVE for NOW. I don't live in the present moment. Here's a poem that has been doing the rounds on the internet that beautifully captures the essence of NOW:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever watched kids &lt;br /&gt;On a merry-go-round? &lt;br /&gt;Or listened to the rain &lt;br /&gt;Slapping on the ground? &lt;br /&gt;Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight? &lt;br /&gt;Or gazed at the sun into the fading night? &lt;br /&gt;You'd better slow down. &lt;br /&gt;Don't dance so fast. &lt;br /&gt;Time is short. &lt;br /&gt;The music won't last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you run through each day &lt;br /&gt;On the fly? &lt;br /&gt;When you ask "How are you?" &lt;br /&gt;Do you hear the reply? &lt;br /&gt;When the day is done &lt;br /&gt;Do you lie in your bed &lt;br /&gt;With the next hundred chores &lt;br /&gt;Running through your head? &lt;br /&gt;You'd better slow down &lt;br /&gt;Don't dance so fast. &lt;br /&gt;Time is short. &lt;br /&gt;The music won't last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever told your child, &lt;br /&gt;We'll do it tomorrow? &lt;br /&gt;And in your haste, &lt;br /&gt;Not see his sorrow? &lt;br /&gt;Ever lost touch, &lt;br /&gt;Let a good friendship die &lt;br /&gt;Cause you never had time &lt;br /&gt;To call and say "Hi"? &lt;br /&gt;You'd better slow down. &lt;br /&gt;Don't dance so fast. &lt;br /&gt;Time is short. &lt;br /&gt;The music won't last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you run so fast to get somewhere &lt;br /&gt;You miss half the fun of getting there. &lt;br /&gt;When you worry and hurry through your day, &lt;br /&gt;It is like an unopened gift.... &lt;br /&gt;Thrown away. &lt;br /&gt;Life is not a race. &lt;br /&gt;Do take it slower &lt;br /&gt;Hear the music &lt;br /&gt;Before the song is over&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-6515319969536587463?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/6515319969536587463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=6515319969536587463' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/6515319969536587463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/6515319969536587463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2009/06/friend-told-me-sometime-back-you-dont.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-3445606961012515100</id><published>2009-06-27T19:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T19:44:01.365-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm moving, finally :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-3445606961012515100?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/3445606961012515100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=3445606961012515100' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/3445606961012515100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/3445606961012515100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2009/06/im-moving-finally.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-6672125500750413890</id><published>2009-06-27T19:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T19:42:58.445-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Don't dance so fast&lt;br /&gt;The music might not last.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-6672125500750413890?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/6672125500750413890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=6672125500750413890' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/6672125500750413890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/6672125500750413890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2009/06/dont-dance-so-fast-music-might-not-last.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-8465576654490568063</id><published>2009-04-04T12:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T12:10:21.385-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;It is a wonderful life&lt;/p&gt;It really is, It really is&lt;/p&gt;I just dont know what to do with it&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-8465576654490568063?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/8465576654490568063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=8465576654490568063' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/8465576654490568063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/8465576654490568063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2009/04/it-is-wonderful-life-it-really-is-it.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-7810127732310125758</id><published>2009-04-04T11:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T12:06:11.142-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>When the curtains flap in the silent breeze&lt;br /&gt;The lights are a distant haze&lt;br /&gt;As I look out, I close my eyes&lt;br /&gt;I smell the dark night&lt;br /&gt;Will I see a sign, when I open my eyes&lt;br /&gt;As I stand there, hugging the window&lt;br /&gt;Will you be there?&lt;br /&gt;I am scared to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-7810127732310125758?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/7810127732310125758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=7810127732310125758' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/7810127732310125758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/7810127732310125758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2009/04/when-curtains-flap-in-silent-breeze.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-5063459907408390161</id><published>2008-10-31T12:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T12:01:14.232-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Memories, good or bad, are our only link to the past. It is wonderful the way our memory allows us the opportunity to relive the past and go back endlessly in time, to as far as we can remember. My mother and I were watching something on TV this afternoon. A lady in a bright yellow sari floated on to the screen as part of a TV commercial. Instantly, my mother went back 50 years in time and told me that her grandfather had gifted a frock to her, in exactly the same shade of yellow when she was about 6 or 7.  She even remembered the frock’s fabric and the patterns, and that it was probably one of the last frocks that she wore. Immediately my father chipped in with an incident that had happened to him at a cinema theatre when he was about 6 or 7. I realised then, that without memories, we’d all be lost in the travails of time. If we think about the simple things that would tug at our lips and make us smile, memories of our early days will definitely be on this list. If we jog our memory to as far as back to our kindergarten days, playing in wet sand with a scoop and basket could be one of them. The simple act of thumbing through an old scrapbook or a photo album gives us profuse pleasure. We laugh to ourselves, pull our head back, close our eyes and reminisce or maybe even call the other person to talk about the memories together. There are 5 zones of emotion out of which just one is positive and since memories can be disturbing too, the catch is to be able to maintain the right balance between positive and negative memories. All said and done, memories let us relive the past. As someone rightly said “We all have our time machines. Some take us back, they're called memories. Some take us forward, they're called dreams”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-5063459907408390161?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/5063459907408390161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=5063459907408390161' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/5063459907408390161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/5063459907408390161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2008/10/memories-good-or-bad-are-our-only-link_31.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-5360810479371318763</id><published>2008-10-10T01:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T01:39:45.281-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The railway station almost always brings back memories of a particular train journey, when I was a kid. I vividly remember my father hoisting me up on to the upper berth of the air conditioned compartment where I settled down to read a book, holding it wrong side up, just to mimic my brother who was engrossed in another book. The memory of the picture that my mother clicked almost always tugs at my mouth. Like any school going kid, I used to look forward to train journeys with the anticipation of a mother bearing her first child. As I grew older, the thrill of looking out of the window with the wind blowing in my face, of craning out of the window to watch the train turn, of travelling over bridges with river water gushing underneath, of passing through pitch black tunnels, of being huddled on my mother’s lap, of card games and vocabulary building games, of listening to the vendor yell ‘Chaaaya, Kaapi’, soon became mundane. The exciting became humdrum. Little did I realise then, that I would have to travel 36 hours from college to get home for the holidays. Train conversations were different to and from home. The journey to college was filled with thoughtful conversations, conversations of a hope-filled new semester, of wistful longing for home, of nostalgia, of holiday experiences and more. The trip home, on the other hand was a ruckus with smiling faces all around, each making our own plans for a full 2 months at home. As the years passed, the train was soon to become my second home as I made numerous trips to home from the city I worked at. I still do. Huddled in the upper berth, conversations took a different turn. Talks of the why’s, what’s and how’s of life became the focus of discussions with friends, as we shared account of events pertaining to different phases of life. Time stood standstill, almost. During one such trip home, a friend and I were sharing our experiences at work. It was one of the most career-sensitive conversations, I’d ever had. The conversation continued till late into the night and when we finally decided to go to sleep, I realised that train journeys are there for a reason. Time that I would have otherwise spent indolently was now well spent. The best train journeys are when I travel alone, especially during the day. There is so much of solitary-time that otherwise is very difficult to get in a world in which the second and the minute hands race past before we even know it. We just have to figure out how to make the most of our train journeys!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-5360810479371318763?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/5360810479371318763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=5360810479371318763' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/5360810479371318763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/5360810479371318763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2008/10/railway-station-almost-always-brings.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-6681789698762927606</id><published>2008-05-10T21:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T22:22:14.689-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span &gt;Taraf ! - It is the Iranian conversational custom of making polite but vacant offers.The term hit me hard. It made me cringe a bit and think about the countless occasions on which I have said ' Done!' and not kept my word. It reminds me of the several occasions when I have exchanged numbers with random people in the hope of calling them someday. The 'DONE" word, I realise, is a little too overused these days. 'Done, I'll call you sometime.' The sometime never comes. 'Done, Lets catch up over the weekend'. The weekend passes by in a blur. I have for long chided myself about this. Never say done if you don't really intend to do it. I realise that it really is not done till you actually do it. Till then, it just remains Taraf! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-6681789698762927606?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/6681789698762927606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=6681789698762927606' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/6681789698762927606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/6681789698762927606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2008/05/taraf-it-is-iranian-conversational.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-7321020020045001891</id><published>2008-02-09T11:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T11:06:24.897-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A random switching of channels introduced me to a beautiful phrase sometime back -Celebrate the differences. I can't quite recall the context of this phrase.  But the term made me realise that the differences are rather important to help sustain a relationship, whether with friends or with a partner. I am no expert on relationships. But I do understand the need to accept people as they are and not attempt to change them. No two people are alike and to expect someone else to think and behave the same way as you do could prove to be a bit of a stretch. Differences tend to be inevitable. As long as two people complement each other in a relationship, maybe we should just agree to disagree and get on with life!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-7321020020045001891?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/7321020020045001891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=7321020020045001891' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/7321020020045001891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/7321020020045001891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2008/02/random-switching-of-channels-introduced.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-3415513044626923760</id><published>2007-11-10T09:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T10:22:22.952-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>They sat in the backseat aware that the goodbyes were coming soon. A tear trickled down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. They continued to ride in silence;an easy silence that gave her the opportunity to collect her thoughts. Soon she'd be riding home in an empty car, save for the driver and returning to an empty home. Good things always come to an end to make way for better things, she thought. They both steadily looked out of the window, not daring to face each other's tears anymore. Been there, done that, at home. They looked out; looked at the city that they had made home. Fond memories weaved in and out. Memories, nature's way of letting us relive the past, she thought. She saw the sun slowly rising from beyond the horizon. Nature was telling her that a new life was dawning, awaiting them both, albeit in different timezones. She crossed her fingers, sent up a silent prayer just as the care came to a screeching halt in front of the departure terminal. They both got out, neither slamming the door shut as was their usual habit. They unloaded the luggage and trolleyed it inside the terminal. They were on time and heard the announcement requesting passengers on board flight EC256 to please check in. They hugged and as tears rolled down their cheeks, they promised. Promised to write regularly. Promised to keep in touch. Promised to take care of themselves. Promised to stay the same. They finally let go of each other and she walked away to wait for the plane to depart. Finally the status on the board changed and she got up to leave. She walked out and looked up. Up at the skies and a small smile tugged at her lips. She followed the plane till it became a speck in the distance.&lt;br /&gt;She smiled. Smiled with the hope the future would promise the best for her daughter. She was happy. Happy that her daughter had left to realise certain long held dreams. She felt a flurry of emotions, all at the same time. Joy,sorrow,worry,pride,love. All of them. She was after all a mother.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-3415513044626923760?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/3415513044626923760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=3415513044626923760' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/3415513044626923760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/3415513044626923760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/11/they-sat-in-backseat-aware-that.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-4519869915806225259</id><published>2007-10-06T10:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-06T11:39:19.110-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So you asked me to come back&lt;br /&gt;Wait another year&lt;br /&gt;But I had my hopes high&lt;br /&gt;You made me walk away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bliss&lt;br /&gt;I experienced it&lt;br /&gt;Smile&lt;br /&gt;I let my mouth curl&lt;br /&gt;Laugh&lt;br /&gt;I let my sides ache&lt;br /&gt;Silence&lt;br /&gt;I bolted all words&lt;br /&gt;Tears&lt;br /&gt;I let my eyes sting&lt;br /&gt;Joy&lt;br /&gt;I reveled in it&lt;br /&gt;Despair&lt;br /&gt;I threw up my hands&lt;br /&gt;Confusion&lt;br /&gt;I let my thoughts swirl&lt;br /&gt;Luck&lt;br /&gt;I crossed my fingers&lt;br /&gt;Hope&lt;br /&gt;I carried it in my heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it wrong to ask for more&lt;br /&gt;Is it wrong to feel complete&lt;br /&gt;When life has a mind of its own&lt;br /&gt;I become a mere puppet&lt;br /&gt;Pulled up and down, left and right&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Period, find me.&lt;br /&gt;Let me just be me&lt;br /&gt;Let me complete me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is another day&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-4519869915806225259?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/4519869915806225259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=4519869915806225259' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/4519869915806225259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/4519869915806225259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/10/so-you-asked-me-to-come-back-wait.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-7142535833694439412</id><published>2007-09-26T23:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T23:58:42.048-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sometimes life slips away just when I think I have control of it, finally&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes so much happens that I can’t catch up with life&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes there is a void that I don’t know how to fill&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I am happy&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes there is a cloud over my head&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I talk two to a dozen&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I keep to myself&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I laugh&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I cry&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I am in love with life&lt;br /&gt;Sometime I hate it with all my heart&lt;br /&gt;I wish for these conflicts to end&lt;br /&gt;I wish for peace from within&lt;br /&gt;I wish for all the good things&lt;br /&gt;I wish for strength to deal with troubled times&lt;br /&gt;I wish! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-7142535833694439412?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/7142535833694439412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=7142535833694439412' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/7142535833694439412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/7142535833694439412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/09/sometimes-life-slips-away-just-when-i.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-7011630772028843673</id><published>2007-09-08T11:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-08T11:12:21.643-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Get me out before the shadows grow darker&lt;br /&gt;I smell rain on the horizon&lt;br /&gt;I see dark clouds overhead&lt;br /&gt;I see things differently&lt;br /&gt;For you its a clear sky&lt;br /&gt;I need to break free&lt;br /&gt;I don't know&lt;br /&gt;Maybe this is it!&lt;br /&gt;I'm drifting away&lt;br /&gt;I let my eyes do the talking&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to ask before its too late&lt;br /&gt;Will you be there when I wake up&lt;br /&gt;I hope to god you will&lt;br /&gt;I hope to god I will&lt;br /&gt;I am off now&lt;br /&gt;S'long!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-7011630772028843673?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/7011630772028843673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=7011630772028843673' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/7011630772028843673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/7011630772028843673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/09/get-me-out-before-shadows-grow-darker-i.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-995194769458986258</id><published>2007-08-29T10:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-29T11:12:24.082-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I need to be inspired to write. I always need a trigger, a little nudge in one corner of my mind to make me want to write about something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A long time back I got a forward that outlined different perspectives on Celebration. One was along these lines,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Celebration&lt;br /&gt;Three friends&lt;br /&gt;Three corners of the world&lt;br /&gt;Three mugs of coffee&lt;br /&gt;One chat messenger!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Communication - that's what it essentially means doesn't it? A forward that was; a long time back at that. Reality it is now and yes, every week; just that weekends come slightly earlier these days! All it takes is a simple punch of numbers but ofcourse the communication channel strays here slightly from chat messnger to Nokias and Samsungs! Lost to what's happening around, its time to catch up. Loud talk at the same time. High pitched shrieks and squeals of laughter. We are kids again. Humour, wit and dry jokes. Smiles all around. Pearls of wisdom thrown in at the right time. "Hang in there. It'll be all right. We are around. You can do it. You are the best", always thankful for that.  Leg pulling, lots of it, sometimes aimed at self. Overdose of it is always fun. All taken with the right spirit. No mood swings. No sulking. Just fun. Just talk. Just laughter and lots of love! and Over! Until next week!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are we without each other? Touchwood!:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-995194769458986258?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/995194769458986258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=995194769458986258' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/995194769458986258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/995194769458986258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/08/i-need-to-be-inspired-to-write.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-505747435366930508</id><published>2007-08-19T10:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-19T10:44:56.855-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A known crowd makes me feel nice, makes me feel wanted. Semi-known, unknown faces kind of gives me the jitters, but I usually end up striking a chord and when I start to be myself I end up having fun. Huh??? Who am I kidding? Noooo. Close to impossible. The sentence about semi-unknown, unknown people is the closest I have ever got to an outrageous lie! Well, it felt good to type that out nevertheless!:) The very first sentence, however, is true. So you can trust me on that. I have always felt a tinge of envy when people make conversation at the drop of a hat, while it take me ages to make up that perfect sentence while talking to people whom I am meeting for the first time, or I haven't met in quite a while. When I meeting someone new, its the same set of questions, same talk about who you are and what you do. Its like a recruiter saying ' Okay, now walk me through your resume'. Anyway the gift of gab has always eluded me when I am with the unknown. I have no regrets however. You can't have it all, can you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a totally different scenario when I am around people whom I love. I really don't have to impress anyone. I can just be myself. Simply not care about mistakes. Simply not care about whether people are being judgemental(because good friends are never judgemental, I can vouch for that), or simply remain silent and just drink in the conversation that is going on around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silence. Ah! Bliss!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The main reason why I started to type this post is because of two sentences that I read at two different places, but that carry the same essence!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A best friend is someone whom you can sit in complete silence with and yet walk away like it was the best conversation you have had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only two people who are compatible with each other, can sit in complete silence and yet enjoy each other's company!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope, I am not going to elaborate on it at all! It is up to each one of us to let it sink in! We all have our own explanations, don't we?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-505747435366930508?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/505747435366930508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=505747435366930508' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/505747435366930508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/505747435366930508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/08/known-crowd-makes-me-feel-nice-makes-me.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-9034985401467602384</id><published>2007-08-18T10:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-18T10:44:59.486-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This has nothing to do with the previous post. I have always looked for signs around me. Something to tell me that things are going to be fine. I somehow always tend to look for numbers or certain pictures or maybe nameboards or things like that. One day on my way to work, I happened to see an 800 whose license number was the same as my ID number back in college. At the cost of sounding silly, I'd like to say that I was thrilled, ecstatic! Happiness was very evident on my face. Everyday on my way to work I used to see the same car. Well, I was quite happy that my good luck charm was accompanying me to work. But something other than the name plate caught my attention. If anyone is reading this post, and your grey cells are working overtime, NO, it's not what you think. I saw a child in the back seat, a little boy who I think would be barely 6-7 years old. Knees propped on the back seat, arms resting over each other, his school bag and lunch basket by his side, he was peering intently through the back window. Sounds normal, doesn't it. I thought so initially too. SoI just left it at that, accelerated my bike, overtook the car and just let it be. The next day, I saw the same kid again. The next day and the next. I had never before seen such a sad face, so forlorn that I felt like going up to him to find out the reason. Unlike kids that usually prefer the front seat to the back, this child always occupied the back seat, while his grandad(I presume it is) drove. Unlike kids, that talk two to a dozen, wanting to know how this works and how that works(like we were all walking WIKIPEDIAS), this child prefered to keep to himself, to remain a silent spectator unperturbed by the mad rush around him. This child was content looking out of the window, sometimes the side, at other times the back. I don't know if he is a special child. I don't know his history. I don't know his background. I really don't know which school he goes to. I don't know who his parents are. But I do wish, I really do wish I see a happy and cheerful face the next time I see him. The world I think is a happier place to live in when kids are happy and smiling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-9034985401467602384?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/9034985401467602384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=9034985401467602384' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/9034985401467602384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/9034985401467602384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/08/this-has-nothing-to-do-with-previous.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-374591021194925178</id><published>2007-08-18T03:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-18T03:33:51.831-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A calling! Yes, you read that right. I was having this conversation with a friend about what it is that decides the life path of an individual. She put it very simply :&lt;br /&gt;‘There are signs all around us that serve as indications. There is a calling for each one of us; there is something or the other destined for each one of us. We just need to find that calling and we can do that by simply keeping our eyes open’. &lt;br /&gt;It strikes a chord somewhere, doesn’t it? On the contrary when I was having the same conversation with my father about destiny and the ilk, he dismissed it off with a wave of his hand. Such things do not exist according to him. Such things don’t mean anything to him. Destiny, I suppose to him means something that an individual carves out for herself. It has nothing to do with the hand of god. It has nothing to do with anything that can not be explained logically. You know men; logic and reasoning are synonymous with them, I suppose! I am not trying to undermine the importance of efforts, hard work and such things, but above all this; I truly feel that destiny makes it a point to mark its presence in everyone’s life. I guess, you have to be at the right place at the right time. So see you there then. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-374591021194925178?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/374591021194925178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=374591021194925178' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/374591021194925178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/374591021194925178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/08/calling-yes-you-read-that-right.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-8438840550706444701</id><published>2007-08-14T11:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T11:47:40.800-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hope,&lt;br /&gt;Let me see the world through your eyes,&lt;br /&gt;Let me do the things you do,&lt;br /&gt;Let me see the things you see,&lt;br /&gt;Let me dream,&lt;br /&gt;Let my dreams come true,&lt;br /&gt;Let me be you for a day,&lt;br /&gt;Let us trade places,&lt;br /&gt;I know me&lt;br /&gt;Let me know you,&lt;br /&gt;Lets just be friends forever!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-8438840550706444701?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/8438840550706444701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=8438840550706444701' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/8438840550706444701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/8438840550706444701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/08/hope-let-me-see-world-through-your-eyes.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-1559026221886124038</id><published>2007-08-12T10:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T10:36:48.996-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>All of us have our moments.&lt;br /&gt;Moments when we'd like to be left alone.&lt;br /&gt;Moments when you'd like to be your own best friend.&lt;br /&gt;Moments when even the slightest of disturbances is enough to drive you up the wall.&lt;br /&gt;Moments when you give someone the cold shoulder, the silent treatment, which later you feel guilty about.&lt;br /&gt;Moments when silence is bliss.&lt;br /&gt;Moments when your dog ends up becoming your best friend.&lt;br /&gt;Moments when some 'n' number of thoughts are running through your head, you wish you were brain dead!&lt;br /&gt;Moments when even coffee and a good book can not make your spirits soar.&lt;br /&gt;Moments when you wish life were just a bit, yes, just slightly different.&lt;br /&gt;Moments when you wish you could just let go of things that are holding you back and simply move on.&lt;br /&gt;Moments when you wish you could simply laugh it off.&lt;br /&gt;Moments when you wish to simply drop what you are doing and take off.&lt;br /&gt;Moments when your gut instinct tells you to do it, yet you hold back fearing the worst.&lt;br /&gt;Moments when the whole world is falling apart, yet everything around you is chugging along fine.&lt;br /&gt;Moments like these make us wonder what's around the corner.&lt;br /&gt;Nothing but the best, and we cling on to that hope!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-1559026221886124038?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/1559026221886124038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=1559026221886124038' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/1559026221886124038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/1559026221886124038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/08/all-of-us-have-our-moments.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-472291677748556020</id><published>2007-08-10T11:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-10T12:29:17.919-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A sense of calm washed over me. I was no longer my tense self. I was no longer thinking random thoughts. That 'no longer' was not long enough actually. Just enough for me to realise that something had changed within me and I quite liked that. I reveled in it, completely enjoying every moment, completely oblivious to the maddening city traffic. I could never sit idle. Never be 'not preoccupied'. I had to be thinking randomly. Piecing 2 and 2 together to make 14. Well, that's me. Take it or leave it. I have never known calm waters. Never. My mind had to be running on third gear. First gear? Bah! What good is one when you can accelerate on three? But why did I not feel my usual self? Calm and me!! A perfect oxymoron! But I realised that I felt calm because I was enjoying being in the present! Present - Maybe Wren and Martin should never deal with Past and Future!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway I do realise that it's a good feeling to enjoy 'this moment', to enjoy 'now', than to think of what next. Its like reading a good book, although I want to turn to the last page to find out how the book ends, I want to be there when the action unfolds, to hang on to every word, re-read certain parts, before I get to the end. It's like a good book that talks to me. That makes me feel good. I don't want the book to end. I am enjoying the book so much, that I dont think of anyting but the book. Oh, future can wait while I finish the book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its like lying on the beach, watching the waves curl up, only to look above and see a star-studded sky. I am completely lost to the outside world. I am mine. Only mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, at the end of the day, its my life. Like it or not. Want it or not. When I am here, I want to be only here, to enjoy every moment of it. Tomorrow can wait. I am not done with today yet!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-472291677748556020?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/472291677748556020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=472291677748556020' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/472291677748556020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/472291677748556020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/08/sense-of-calm-washed-over-me.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-2228560561981744217</id><published>2007-07-30T10:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T10:59:27.288-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I wish someone could answer all my questions&lt;br /&gt;The why's and why nots of life&lt;br /&gt;The where , when and how?&lt;br /&gt;It seems simple doesnt it&lt;br /&gt;Then why dont I have answers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Certain things are better left unsaid&lt;br /&gt;Better left unexplained&lt;br /&gt;For it is for me to understand&lt;br /&gt;For it is for me to explain&lt;br /&gt;I may be at a loss&lt;br /&gt;But there is always a reason behind&lt;br /&gt;That eludes me skillfuly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will I ever know?&lt;br /&gt;Will He ever tell me?&lt;br /&gt;Where are my signs?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-2228560561981744217?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/2228560561981744217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=2228560561981744217' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/2228560561981744217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/2228560561981744217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-wish-someone-could-answer-all-my.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-6338225713673134690</id><published>2007-07-28T20:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-28T20:47:46.374-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I wanted to fly high&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to ride the waves&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to feel the high&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to live my life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I want to leave it all behind&lt;br /&gt;Closing a chapter of life&lt;br /&gt;I want to start anew&lt;br /&gt;Let me make it up to you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't been there&lt;br /&gt;I know, I know&lt;br /&gt;I never wanted to&lt;br /&gt;I was happy being mine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't have the time&lt;br /&gt;I didn't bother to make time&lt;br /&gt;I was on my own&lt;br /&gt;I was away from it all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets start now&lt;br /&gt;Before I change my mind&lt;br /&gt;Let me be there&lt;br /&gt;Let me be with you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me see them grow&lt;br /&gt;Let me hold their hands&lt;br /&gt;Let me see them laugh&lt;br /&gt;Let me see them cry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll get along fine&lt;br /&gt;We'll chase the butterflies as it dawns&lt;br /&gt;We'll chase the shadows by the dark&lt;br /&gt;I'll hold them tight lest I go away again&lt;br /&gt;I won't , I can't&lt;br /&gt;I want to be there&lt;br /&gt;I will be there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give me a chance&lt;br /&gt;I won't let you down&lt;br /&gt;I promise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;br /&gt;rt&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-6338225713673134690?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/6338225713673134690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=6338225713673134690' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/6338225713673134690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/6338225713673134690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-wanted-to-fly-high-i-wanted-to-ride.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-9145932699603252377</id><published>2007-07-25T06:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T06:25:32.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What do all these expressions mean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She (Hands covering the mouth) : "You haven't changed!!!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;When will you ever change!!!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She : "Oohh...what a cute kid!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I have to see his dad!!!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He(sad look): " Sorry , I wasn't able to make it"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She : " No, that's okay.No problem"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;em&gt;I didn't want you to come in the first place, you loser"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He(all excited) : "C'mon lets get started"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She(send up a silent prayer) : "Sure darling"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Oh no! Not again&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;She: How do you want your burger - medium or rare?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;He: Oh I'm fine with anything dear!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Does that mean you know the difference?God Help.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-9145932699603252377?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/9145932699603252377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=9145932699603252377' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/9145932699603252377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/9145932699603252377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/07/what-do-all-these-expressions-mean-she.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-5295131050232888682</id><published>2007-07-24T04:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T06:36:00.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>X ( with a heavy Spanish accent) :"Sorry about that. I don't speak good english. I am poor at it"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me ( Indian accent ofcourse! No! Don't get me wrong. Simple Indian! Not the Americanised " so doood, wassszzzup" accent) : " That's okay. No problem. Please put me on to Mr X"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am on the phone waiting to be routed to Mr X. What a long wait. The incessant tune at the other end gets on my nerves. La La La La La. Am waiting. 2...3....4......5.....the clock keeps ticking away. X comes back on the line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;X : "Sorry Madammee(pause)....but he iz not there. (Long Pause) Call later?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "oh:( Sure. Thanks. I'll try tomorrow"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;X:Sorry. I speak no english.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Thanks, I'll try tomorrow. Bye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many of us Indians would openly admit to not being able to speak good english. Not many I suppose. Do we take pride in being able to speak fluently in our mother tongue. Not many hands will go up now either. The Queens english. That was what we wanted to master. American English, without the G's. How you doing man! That's what we speak now. Not a sentence goes w/o being peppered abundantly with 'like'. So I was like....' damn how could you do that'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well well well. I don't know if its a passing phase or if further generations will end up not being able to understand, converse or write in their mother tongue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anybody answers?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-5295131050232888682?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/5295131050232888682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=5295131050232888682' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/5295131050232888682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/5295131050232888682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/07/x-with-heavy-spanish-accent-sorry-about_24.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-2244740445301042972</id><published>2007-07-16T05:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T05:32:17.443-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I stand there&lt;br /&gt;As a new day dawns&lt;br /&gt;My feet burried deep in the sand&lt;br /&gt;Waves curl up to trace the feet&lt;br /&gt;As they doff the sand&lt;br /&gt;I dig my feet further deep&lt;br /&gt;The waves curl up yet again&lt;br /&gt;Let's not change&lt;br /&gt;Let's be the same&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Etched in the sands of time&lt;br /&gt;Memories linger on&lt;br /&gt;Different paths we have tread&lt;br /&gt;Different experiences we have to share&lt;br /&gt;Tides of time attempt to wash away the past&lt;br /&gt;To make it none, but a speck in the distant past&lt;br /&gt;Let's not change&lt;br /&gt;Let's be the same&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-2244740445301042972?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/2244740445301042972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=2244740445301042972' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/2244740445301042972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/2244740445301042972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-stand-there-as-new-day-dawns-my-feet.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-9218635696294859966</id><published>2007-07-14T09:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-14T09:55:54.187-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'll go through it with you&lt;br /&gt;The bond won't gather dust&lt;br /&gt;I promise!&lt;br /&gt;Matters of the heart or the head&lt;br /&gt;A whoop of joy or a word of regret&lt;br /&gt;The first to know&lt;br /&gt;You have always been&lt;br /&gt;Will always be&lt;br /&gt;I promise!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something is missing&lt;br /&gt;Yet everything is just so right&lt;br /&gt;So much to look forward to&lt;br /&gt;The highest of the highs&lt;br /&gt;The lowest of the lows&lt;br /&gt;We've just started&lt;br /&gt;A long way to go&lt;br /&gt;Still.................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The road may go two ways&lt;br /&gt;We may choose to go different ways&lt;br /&gt;To chase our dreams&lt;br /&gt;To live the one life that we have to live&lt;br /&gt;Eternal optimists we will remain&lt;br /&gt;Drawing inspiration from everybody&lt;br /&gt;As the world around continues to spin!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laughing at silly nothings&lt;br /&gt;That only we will understand&lt;br /&gt;Slapping our knees over a cup of coffee&lt;br /&gt;As memories of the past weave in and out&lt;br /&gt;Talking at the top of our voices&lt;br /&gt;Laughter ringing out loud in the cafe&lt;br /&gt;While people around us wonder if we've gone beserk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talk&lt;br /&gt;Of school days, college, work et al&lt;br /&gt;Of little nothings&lt;br /&gt;Of the innumerable crushes that we have had&lt;br /&gt;Of life&lt;br /&gt;Of what lies ahead&lt;br /&gt;Of what's in store&lt;br /&gt;Of what's over&lt;br /&gt;Of what we could have done right in the past&lt;br /&gt;Of what went wrong&lt;br /&gt;Of anxieties and worries&lt;br /&gt;Of dreams and desires&lt;br /&gt;Of hopes&lt;br /&gt;Of us and the rest of the world&lt;br /&gt;Of how abnormal we are&lt;br /&gt;Of how normal the rest of the world is&lt;br /&gt;Of everything and anything&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carefree days may be long gone&lt;br /&gt;Replaced by a sense of responsibility&lt;br /&gt;Towards ourselves&lt;br /&gt;And to the people whom we love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miles apart&lt;br /&gt;Yet etched are the memories&lt;br /&gt;But a phone call away&lt;br /&gt;We'll keep in touch!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-9218635696294859966?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/9218635696294859966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=9218635696294859966' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/9218635696294859966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/9218635696294859966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/07/ill-go-through-it-with-you-bond-wont.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-3814417461170480928</id><published>2007-07-07T04:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-07T21:44:04.470-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Either this way or that&lt;br /&gt;She leaves it vague&lt;br /&gt;She leaves it unanswered&lt;br /&gt;Open-ended it remains&lt;br /&gt;A bit too mystifying&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Words remain as thoughts&lt;br /&gt;Lest she hurt someone&lt;br /&gt;Lest she hurt herself&lt;br /&gt;Better left unsaid&lt;br /&gt;Untouched it is&lt;br /&gt;Untouched it will be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With her it will go to the grave&lt;br /&gt;Secrets, anything but ephemeral&lt;br /&gt;Unless expressions give it all away&lt;br /&gt;Unless she can't take it anymore&lt;br /&gt;Unless she gets the courage to confront it&lt;br /&gt;Unless she is forced to admit it&lt;br /&gt;Unless she finds someone she can share it with&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laughter fills the room&lt;br /&gt;She is drawn away from her thoughts&lt;br /&gt;She is all but 15!&lt;br /&gt;She breaks out in a little victory dance&lt;br /&gt;She gives them all a bear hug&lt;br /&gt;Plants a kiss on her brother's forehead!&lt;br /&gt;Only person to call family:(&lt;br /&gt;'He deserves it all', she prides!&lt;br /&gt;Smiles all around!&lt;br /&gt;Cheer all around!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a second, if only!&lt;br /&gt;She forgets&lt;br /&gt;That she had been a victim!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-3814417461170480928?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/3814417461170480928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=3814417461170480928' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/3814417461170480928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/3814417461170480928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/07/either-this-way-or-that-she-leaves-it.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-7894626954051430039</id><published>2007-06-07T04:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-07T11:06:47.397-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Emotions. The bedrock of our existence. Joy, sorrow, optimism,envy,disgust, worry, boredom, loneliness, fear, anxiety......the list is endless. Sounds too cliched? Rephrase it the way you want to. You'll come right back to the same conclusion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We weave in and out of each one of these emotions everyday and I'd be goddamned surprised if there weren't more. Do we possess enough skill to differentiate among the various emotions. Yes. A resound yes! But, think. What if we were not?What if every emotion seemed just the same to us. What if the death of a close one seemed just the same as the birth of a new one. What is being sacked from your job seems just the same as bagging that 'dream job'? What if the highs that you get from preparing to go on a long holiday to an exotic location, away from the humdrum of city life and the constant buzz that envelopes your workplace, feels just the same as getting up in the morning only to get started with chores that are part of your daily routine.  Bizzare? That' a euphemism! Freaks you out! Totally!!:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what is it that I am trying to say here. All am saying is this!  Feel every emotion. Ride every wave. Surf the crests of life. Hit the troughs. LOL for good health. If you want to worry about something, go ahead. Worry just enough to find the solution to the problem, but don't make it a way of life. Confused? Stressed? Find a sounding board. Bored? Twiddling your thumbs? Go get some fresh air!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Different Emotions! Different Experiences!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-7894626954051430039?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/7894626954051430039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=7894626954051430039' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/7894626954051430039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/7894626954051430039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/06/emotions.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-4222142883809153275</id><published>2007-06-02T21:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-02T21:37:18.929-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Young adults, that's what we become when we turn 21 or 22. From then on begins a journey that will be marked by decisions at every living moment. Now that's an exxageratiom some may counter. Okay, probably not every living moment but atleast a major portion of it. People do not treat you as kids anymore. Conversations that you were never a part of before, never offered an opinion on or times when you simply left the room when relatives began discussing something that you would rather be ignorant about(you will hear it from your mother later anyways:P), become a thing of the past. It's not a huge transition or anything, just that one shoulders more responsibility on the way to becoming an adult! More decisions. More mistakes. More lessons learned the hard way.  Whoops! Hang on! Did I mention that right! Yeah I think I did! Adult!!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'd rather not become one", some might say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why don' they invent a time machine or something that would let me stay right here, for now and ever. Am in love with life. 'Young adults', yeah I quite like that",others may offer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Not a chance! In your dreams", the more sane ones counter!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all Shakespeare didn't write the All the World's a Stage as a farce. At the end of it all, don't we all want to say Been there. Done that!!!:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-4222142883809153275?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/4222142883809153275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=4222142883809153275' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/4222142883809153275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/4222142883809153275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/06/young-adults-thats-what-we-become-when.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-910166714185401272</id><published>2007-05-31T05:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-31T05:23:07.531-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Change! Are we ready for it? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Am sure each one of us have been through a lot of changes in life, both personal and professional. Are we always ready for it? Do we rant and fume, stomping both our feet, strutting up and down, that this has happened(if we least expected it to) or do we maintain a dignified front and take it in our stride. Perspectives differ and so do reactions. Drastically, that too!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I have lived, studied and worked in three different cities. But all this was willed upon ones' self. I chose to do it. I raved about my first move away from home. I ranted about the second. I wanted to get back home. I chose to tread the middle ground on the third occassion.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I realised change is considered alarming only when unexpected. Only when it is an uninvited guest. Otherwise you just learn to live with it and make the best out of it.  Handle change resourcefully and you will realise, whatever happens, happens for the best!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Cheers!!&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/33273242-910166714185401272?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/910166714185401272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=910166714185401272' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/910166714185401272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/910166714185401272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/05/change-are-we-ready-for-it-am-sure-each.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-2982686168071402831</id><published>2007-05-29T08:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T08:31:46.944-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>If someone were to give me a blank sheet of paper and ask me to pen my thoughts down, I would surely have a tough time. It would all tumble down as a jumble of thoughts and to make sense of it all would take up quite sometime for me, leave alone some arbit person trying to figure out what I have put down. To cut a long story short - complex - that's how it will all be!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've wondered, not once, but like a zillion times, what the need is for such complexities in life? Sometimes it is like you are bringing it on yourself, but for no other reason than you have nothing else to do! You don't feel like doing anything, so you just let your mind wander, do the honours and the come back to its righteous place. Just that at the end of it all,  you wish you really had something to do, just so that your mind would stay where it actually needs to and do what it is meant to!.......There I go.....am doing it again! ...complicating a very simple sentence!:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quite a few people have very simple equations in life. Add a bit of this, take away a bit of that, dust it at the sides, shape it at the corners, nudge it a bit and bingo, life falls into place! Exactly the way they want it to. Very simple. No more wants. No more needs. Happy with what they have. Ecstatic! Peace! They kind of redifine Maslow's Hierarchy to fall in step with their life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two sides to a coin? Oh yes, ofcourse! People who are just not satisfied with what they have. Too many wants. Too many desires. Too many variables ...too complex an equation. Give them some more time, they would probably add more levels to Maslow's Hierarchy and find their names mentioned in some Intro to Pschylogy book! It would probably take forever to solve their million equations in life!!! Chuck!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there are the middle men! Who have a foot here and a foot there, not knowing where to go. Quite guilty about wanting more in life and at the same time not fully satisfied with what they have. They consider such situations to sort of question their ability to achieve more. "Like hell I can't do this" keeps ringing at the back of their heads. Convinced that they want more, confused as to why they want more, when they have it all???? A tad puzzling isn't it!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is life a cakewalk? I wish!!!:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers!:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-2982686168071402831?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/2982686168071402831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=2982686168071402831' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/2982686168071402831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/2982686168071402831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/05/if-someone-were-to-give-me-blank-sheet.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-7724792680577274473</id><published>2007-05-27T09:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-27T09:47:49.073-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sometimes it becomes a tad difficult to understand yourself:)  Times when you yourself can not find explanations to what's going on;explanations to convince yourself or otherwise. Are you trying to broker a compromise between the inner and outer world? Damn, I wish I knew:)...wrong smiley.....heck it does not matter:) Wrong again, but am smiling...don't really know what the emoticon for confused is...so this will do for now:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Times when you jus want to curl up with a good book and a mug of piping hot coffee, simply lost to the outside world. Peace! Or let your fingers fly over the keyboard. Just what am doing now. May not make sense , but simply put, just a roller coaster ride for my thoughts! Vince Flynn and coffee, just not right for this moment I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quarter Life Crisis...what else!!!:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-7724792680577274473?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/7724792680577274473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=7724792680577274473' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/7724792680577274473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/7724792680577274473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/05/sometimes-it-becomes-tad-difficult-to.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-6209615943216396896</id><published>2007-03-13T07:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-13T08:03:44.286-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Can it get any better?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What can get better than...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Spending time with the people whom you love the most&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Catching up with friends over a steaming cuppa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A mail from a close friend that just reads ' Was thinking of you, just a mail to say Hi!:) you are the best'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Mom's food &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The wind in your hair on a boat ride &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Smiling babies on a pram / stroller..handsome daddies are an add-on:P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A coffee on the way back home from work&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Hot soup at the end of a hard day's work&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Being appreciated for your culinary skills although you know you suck big time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Knowing that you are at your best when independent:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Having the whole weekend just to yourself doing what you like doing the most&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Buying the little somethings for people whom you love the most&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A rom-com to beat the blues&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Going online to see one of your best buddies online and game for a quick chat a thousand miles away &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Curling up to read a book by an Indian author although you end uf dozing even before you flip the first few pages&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Being invited over by someone whom you know cooks well&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Seeing things that you have never seen before, doing things that you have never done before&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;An intellectually stimulating conversation that re-ignites your grey cells &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Little do we know where the path leads&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Walk the path &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Difficult as it may seem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Take a minute to look back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Then will we realise &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It has been a helluva ride&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;That will stand us in good stead:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;For now and forever:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Cheers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;rt&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/33273242-6209615943216396896?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/6209615943216396896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=6209615943216396896' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/6209615943216396896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/6209615943216396896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/03/can-it-get-any-better-what-can-get.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-6006250552863676275</id><published>2007-02-17T16:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-17T17:14:05.383-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Different people ... different perspectives&lt;br /&gt;Small talk , oh yes, 5 minutes and not more&lt;br /&gt;Snow , rain, the sweltering heat&lt;br /&gt;Weather forecasting -the all time saviour&lt;br /&gt;Ah cut the crap:)&lt;br /&gt;Why pretend - you can't, simply can't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knows me inside out.&lt;br /&gt;Can read me like the back of her hand&lt;br /&gt;My every move&lt;br /&gt;I am cornered&lt;br /&gt;Hour long conversations&lt;br /&gt;Latte guzzlers , that we are&lt;br /&gt;Endless discussions&lt;br /&gt;Arguments - we can live with that&lt;br /&gt;Lending each other a ear&lt;br /&gt;Girly talk you may think&lt;br /&gt;Far from it&lt;br /&gt;Ignited minds&lt;br /&gt;Thoughts just rant off&lt;br /&gt;Top of the mind,&lt;br /&gt;No ' will mind?' doubts&lt;br /&gt;No guilt trips&lt;br /&gt;Cliched as it may sound&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Different people&lt;br /&gt;Different relationships&lt;br /&gt;Little do we know y?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-6006250552863676275?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/6006250552863676275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=6006250552863676275' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/6006250552863676275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/6006250552863676275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2007/02/different-people.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-116749844788524696</id><published>2006-12-30T09:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-30T09:07:27.896-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I cleared my throat. I was not going to let go of this opportunity. ”Am I good enough?” I had had enough of these questions for quite sometime now. After all I would never know unless I tried. It seemed like ages since I had stood in front of an audience. Okay, honestly I admit that I have never performed to an audience. At least not this kind of stuff! I have aced elocutions and debates, but SINGING, completely out of my league. I have however always fantasized singing that perfect song, with all the chords and notes exactly in place, dancing that perfect dance with not a single step out of place. “DREAMER”, people used to chide me. “Hey it’s just a dream, not that I have made a fool of myself already’, I used to retort. I may not be an accomplished singer, hell, I’m not even an amateur, but I can proudly say that I stick to appreciation, that too if I have nothing else to do and if the song is remotely familiar to me. Even then I only lend as much as a fleeting ear to it. Doesn’t make me much of a prodigy does it? Prodigy????? Do I even know the definition? :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had always maintained a dignified front. Always doing things that I was good at. I had drawn my own boundaries, never testing unknown waters. A resolute Capricorn? Yeah I guess so, in more ways that one I should say!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah well, I realized that it was time to do the things that I so wanted to do. Someone had once told me – ‘One life. Live it’. How true!!! The right moment to do something never will come. Every moment is the perfect moment and there is nothing like the present to simply go for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so, there I was bang in front of an audience of 50, yeah maybe, at least as far as I could see, with a mike in my hand, clearing my throat. I wanted to pinch myself and ask if this was for real! Apparently my eyes say so! Thank heavens this was not some cut-throat competition, just an informal get-together of university folks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through the corner of my eyes, I could see my best friend standing by the curtains, with her thumbs up and a broad grin! Ah well, I had nothing to lose. There were no critics in the audience. I didn’t believe in critics anyways. They were just people who knew the route but didn’t know how to drive. I pat myself. I was in the driver’s seat! Even before the first note escaped my mouth the veena player began to strum. Ah, it’s now or never!! I began to sing. A few notes went astray but I was able to hold fort managing to keep the pace of the song. The tempo began to rise and I completely lost myself as I got into the groove of the song. And voila! The last note and finally it was all over. I didn’t dare to open my eyes and look at the audience. Not that I wanted to hear encore. But the mildest of claps would be enough not to shatter my ego and make my day. Ah there it was, someone clapped and a few more followed suit. I opened my eyes, bowed, and got up with a broad grin nearly touching my eyes. Been there, done that. I walked out and got a bear hug from my friend! Not the mellifluous of songs, yet I was ecstatic! I had done something that I never though I would be able to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phew, a sigh of relief! Finally, there it was, a new beginning, a starter, an appetizer, the main course is yet to come!!!!! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disclaimer: That was just a piece of fiction! ‘I‘am still waiting for the right moment!!!!! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-116749844788524696?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/116749844788524696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=116749844788524696' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/116749844788524696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/116749844788524696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2006/12/i-cleared-my-throat.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-116662761293167975</id><published>2006-12-20T07:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-20T07:13:32.946-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Go-getters or No-getters&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She nudged me,&lt;br /&gt;Do I turn?&lt;br /&gt;"What if?" rang loudly in my ears&lt;br /&gt;"Go on!" said another voice&lt;br /&gt;"Its now or never"&lt;br /&gt;Where am I ? In a battlefield?&lt;br /&gt;Thanks but no thanks&lt;br /&gt;I refused to budge!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Strikingly beautiful??...Ah yes!!:P&lt;br /&gt;So says the corner of eyes&lt;br /&gt;What am I? A coward?&lt;br /&gt;I can't...I simply can't!!&lt;br /&gt;Fresh opportunities come by later , don't they?&lt;br /&gt;"You wish", says the same voice&lt;br /&gt;Say pass and I am doomed&lt;br /&gt;Whatever will be will be&lt;br /&gt;Thats the philosophical me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could, might,maybe, in retrospect, in hindsight&lt;br /&gt;Words that form the fulcrum of my dictionary&lt;br /&gt;Never look beyond these words do I?&lt;br /&gt;Subtle hints can't get more obvious!&lt;br /&gt;Subtle....obvious???? Paradoxical.....Whatever!&lt;br /&gt;I prefer to be oblivious&lt;br /&gt;When oportunity bangs on the door&lt;br /&gt;I only hear a faint knock!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The age of passing letters and notes&lt;br /&gt;Are they over?...I quiz myself!&lt;br /&gt;No boss...yet to come!&lt;br /&gt;Sarcastic me in full force&lt;br /&gt;Differential equations and Linear Algebra&lt;br /&gt;Completelt get transmitted overhead&lt;br /&gt;Never made sense , did they?&lt;br /&gt;Nah!&lt;br /&gt;Today is no exception right?&lt;br /&gt;Yep!&lt;br /&gt;I console myself!:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Decisions , emotions , choices&lt;br /&gt;They rule my lif&lt;br /&gt;"Say hi! Ask her out!"&lt;br /&gt;No way. not on your life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Okay Class, Time up. Meet you tomorrow"&lt;br /&gt;Thats it...Over????&lt;br /&gt;Bewildered me!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maths was never my cup of tea!&lt;br /&gt;Next hour...psychology&lt;br /&gt;Maybe she will set next to me!&lt;br /&gt;Maybe Freud will drill some sense into me!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish!!!!!:)&lt;br /&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;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-116662761293167975?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/116662761293167975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=116662761293167975' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/116662761293167975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/116662761293167975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2006/12/go-getters-or-no-getters-she-nudged-me.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-116662679609846058</id><published>2006-12-20T06:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-20T06:59:56.110-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Saluting people who brave the worst!!:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I closed my eyes&lt;br /&gt;Hazy, Dark, Indescribable&lt;br /&gt;Emotions rippled thro me&lt;br /&gt;Why me? Do I ask myself the quesition?&lt;br /&gt;Millions of people want the answer&lt;br /&gt;Do they have it? A resound NO!&lt;br /&gt;Makes me all the more confident&lt;br /&gt;I wont know the reason either!:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shut out all the emotions&lt;br /&gt;I dont want to harbour any ill feelings&lt;br /&gt;"When god brings u to it..&lt;br /&gt;He will bring you thro it"&lt;br /&gt;The  oft repeated motivator&lt;br /&gt;Am I standing at the gates of heaven?&lt;br /&gt;A foot here and a foot there&lt;br /&gt;Not knowing where to go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A good night's rest&lt;br /&gt;Only to wake up and realise&lt;br /&gt;That all this never happened!&lt;br /&gt;How I would love that!&lt;br /&gt;"Alas Thou shall not get what you want!"&lt;br /&gt;My rounds of goodbye...will the time come too soon?&lt;br /&gt;"Till death do us apart"&lt;br /&gt;Seems to fit the bill perfectly!&lt;br /&gt;Whoever coined all this, I muse&lt;br /&gt;Ah there it is, my sense of humour&lt;br /&gt;Good! I'vent lost it all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I opened my eyes&lt;br /&gt;The world is just as it was&lt;br /&gt;Birds chirping&lt;br /&gt;The faint smell of wet earth&lt;br /&gt;My piping mug of hot coffee&lt;br /&gt;Bryan Adams crroning on my Ipod&lt;br /&gt;The world hasn't taken a U turn has it?&lt;br /&gt;Nope , not as far as I can see&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decide to go with the flow&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I remember Shakespeare's Seven Stages&lt;br /&gt;He didn't consider such situations I supposed&lt;br /&gt;Destiny will unfold itself&lt;br /&gt;Do I find this plausible?&lt;br /&gt;Least of all , am I convinced?&lt;br /&gt;Nah!&lt;br /&gt;Like hell I'll take that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grit my teeth&lt;br /&gt;Fight I will&lt;br /&gt;Lose I may&lt;br /&gt;But never will I take it lying down!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smile I will,&lt;br /&gt;Thro trials and tribulations&lt;br /&gt;Simply because,&lt;br /&gt;The world is just the same&lt;br /&gt;And&lt;br /&gt;I am ready to run the race against time:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-116662679609846058?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/116662679609846058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=116662679609846058' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/116662679609846058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/116662679609846058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2006/12/saluting-people-who-brave-worst-i.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-116661472914604288</id><published>2006-12-20T03:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-20T03:40:05.516-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Random thoughts!!!!:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I wanted was a smile&lt;br /&gt;And a reassuring nod&lt;br /&gt;To say&lt;br /&gt;All is okay&lt;br /&gt;To say&lt;br /&gt;This too shall pass&lt;br /&gt;I got a hug instead&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I wanted was 5 rupees&lt;br /&gt;To buy that rubber ball&lt;br /&gt;To go out&lt;br /&gt;And play cricket with the guys&lt;br /&gt;To get hurt and scraped&lt;br /&gt;Only to brush away the mud&lt;br /&gt;And start fielding again&lt;br /&gt;I was a gifted a willow instead&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I wanted was for the bell to ring&lt;br /&gt;Just so that science class would end&lt;br /&gt;To pick up&lt;br /&gt;My Famous Five and start reading&lt;br /&gt;In the five minutes I would get&lt;br /&gt;For my next teacher to come&lt;br /&gt;English teacher gave us a free period instead&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I wanted was to go home from school&lt;br /&gt;All alone for the first time&lt;br /&gt;Without someone to say&lt;br /&gt;Hold my hand, be careful!&lt;br /&gt;Just so that I could ride my new cycle&lt;br /&gt;To feel the afternoon sun&lt;br /&gt;To feel the high of riding back home for the first time&lt;br /&gt;My pals accompanied me instead!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I wanted was for someone to be my best friend&lt;br /&gt;To share all that I possibly could&lt;br /&gt;The usual girl talk&lt;br /&gt;The intellectually stimulating conversations&lt;br /&gt;To share your highs and lows&lt;br /&gt;To simply act as a sounding board&lt;br /&gt;To simply have fun&lt;br /&gt;To rant off when you are at the lowest ebb&lt;br /&gt;I asked for one&lt;br /&gt;I got a fantastic bunch!!!!!! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-116661472914604288?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/116661472914604288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=116661472914604288' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/116661472914604288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/116661472914604288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2006/12/random-thoughts-all-i-wanted-was-smile.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-115964170358159185</id><published>2006-09-30T11:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-30T11:42:58.203-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A few one-liners that caught my eye sometime back( well honestly...they are stick-its on my fridge and they've been there for as long as I remember)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here goes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Chocolate , coffee and men....so much better when they are rich!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Middle age is when a broad mind and a narrow waist exchange places!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Variety is the spice of life, one day annoy people,the next day ignore them!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The more people I meet the more I love my dog!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cheers!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-115964170358159185?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/115964170358159185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=115964170358159185' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/115964170358159185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/115964170358159185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2006/09/few-one-liners-that-caught-my-eye.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-115964110606253724</id><published>2006-09-30T11:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-30T11:31:46.063-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This post is a trip down memory lane. Thoughts and memories which each one of us would be able to relate to in one way or the other, however vague and distant it may seem. Something which would make us all think, "yeah right...how true!!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As kids we were happy in our own little secluded world. A world which was confined to doing simple and the most silliest of things that we would think twice about right now. When we were the cynosure of everyone's eyes! It may still be the case, am not arguing with that one! When life revolved around bucket loads of water and sand to build that perfect castle. At four we were more bothered about having a "Good and a Star" scribbled across our homework than about....maybe the Middle East crisis!A single tear trickling down our cheeks would create a ruckus at home.Massive fights with our siblings over who would get the bigger piece of the cake were a routine! The last piece tastes the best! You can bet on that!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When life moves on , the complexity of situations takes on a higher degree. Our horizons widen, so does the friends-o-sphere.Come teenage, and we think we rule the world and care a damn about someone elses(read mom and dad) opinion. Right we are, and wrong they are. Countless arguements for all the wrong reasons and we always play defender. Its a whirlwind and bang, we are at the center of it all!Time comes when all the "g's" suddenly disappear from our vocabulary."So man,how's it goin???"Words take a totally different dimension.As we go forward life takes us to even dizzier heights and time becomes a huge constraint and to even exchange a few words with friends becomes a humungous task. At the end of the day , we are too stressed out to even utter a "hi"!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Don't you think , now is the time to rekindle the kid in us?We've all locked it away in one corner of our hearts, and double bolted it.Liven it up. Let go of it all.Life hands you a lemon, make Lemonade..or so they say!What is life for.....if not to live and cherish every moment.Live, like you've never lived before and laugh like you've never laughed before!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Cheers! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-115964110606253724?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/115964110606253724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=115964110606253724' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/115964110606253724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/115964110606253724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2006/09/this-post-is-trip-down-memory-lane.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-115666468573182323</id><published>2006-08-27T00:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-27T00:44:45.743-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Life is a song, when they are along-----Redefining moments!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many people we meet in various walks of life,&lt;br /&gt;Do we remember all of them?&lt;br /&gt;A smile, a wave, a few words and then we bid goodbye,&lt;br /&gt;None but a few are friends for life!&lt;br /&gt;The rest are gone…lost…or simply forgotten!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A gang u can never, even in the wildest of ur dreams ever wish to part with! Shobs, Divs Sanch, Pavi, Dhans n Vysh!!! These guys have redefined friendship to me. It’s been “Get Set Go” rite from the minute we met in 11th standard till this microsecond! We bonded big time! 12 B was like our second home! Perennially the last benchers, in one corner of the class, we’ve surely had our share of fun. Classes were a riot, all the time…thanks to us! Really, we pride ourselves on that! School days are long gone, but the fun that we had, the innumerable pranks tat we played, the koothu, the galatta, those memories still linger on. And they make me smile whenever I think of the good old days!!!!! Life is almost a celebration whenever these guys are around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.orkut.com/Profile.aspx?uid=353679304262882166"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are all different in our own little ways, and yet we get along so well…accepting each other….. the way we are! No issues..no hassles! That’s what makes us all the more special!Shobs, the ever practical and intellectual Aquarian; Pavi, the dreamer (She always reminds me of Phoebie….don’t ask why); Sanch the Queeny our gang ;) Divs….intuitive ,imaginative and dependable…her house is literally a camping place for us! Dhans, the ever smiling cutie, of our gang and Vysh the tomboy ,who marks her presence or should I say absence “virtually” every time we meet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wishing that we have new reasons to smile,&lt;br /&gt;Wishing that we have memories to look back at,&lt;br /&gt;Wishing that we have bright times ahead!&lt;br /&gt;Wishing that we stay the thickest of friends,&lt;br /&gt;For now and forever!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-115666468573182323?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/115666468573182323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=115666468573182323' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/115666468573182323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/115666468573182323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2006/08/life-is-song-when-they-are-along.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-115661507661457489</id><published>2006-08-26T10:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-27T01:03:31.973-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Bored and Day Dreaming!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look out of the bus&lt;br /&gt;A flurry of thoughts breeze in and out,&lt;br /&gt;Am twiddling my thumbs&lt;br /&gt;With the wind hitting in my face&lt;br /&gt;With the hope that&lt;br /&gt;A brainwave would rescue me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My only companion,&lt;br /&gt;A hard bound edition of Anastasia&lt;br /&gt;Safely tucked away,&lt;br /&gt;As I realise that,&lt;br /&gt;Observation has its own virtues&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am just a few stops old&lt;br /&gt;Still a long way to go&lt;br /&gt;Work can wait while I dream on&lt;br /&gt;Of conversations that continue to remain on my wish list&lt;br /&gt;Has the idealist in me overtaken the realist?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many may argue&lt;br /&gt;Where is the time to get bored?&lt;br /&gt;Its a rat race that we run&lt;br /&gt;Hang on,&lt;br /&gt;There's always time to get bored!&lt;br /&gt;And to day-dream!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A happy go lucky attitude&lt;br /&gt;The value add of daydreams&lt;br /&gt;Running away from the realities of life &lt;br /&gt;Escaping into a bubble that envelopes you&lt;br /&gt;All the time aware&lt;br /&gt;That it could burst anytime&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its outrageous and doesn't make sense&lt;br /&gt;Its a muddle of all possible permutations&lt;br /&gt;Wishing and hoping&lt;br /&gt;That life were just a teeny bit different&lt;br /&gt;Maybe this and maybe that!&lt;br /&gt;Bring on the smile and a chuckle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A loud blaring honk and back to reality&lt;br /&gt;The distant look in the eyes fades away&lt;br /&gt;As it dawns on  me&lt;br /&gt;That its easier to day dream&lt;br /&gt;Than to navigate the traffic&lt;br /&gt;As long as you are not at the wheel!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-115661507661457489?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/115661507661457489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=115661507661457489' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/115661507661457489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/115661507661457489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2006/08/bored-and-day-dreaming-i-look-out-of.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-115650455217623680</id><published>2006-08-25T03:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-25T05:09:31.750-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;"Quote Unquote"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is this one movie which has deeply affected me like nothing else could. I could not relate to it even for a microsecond and yet it has left an indelible mark. There have been many occasions when I used to sit back and retrospect! Given a chance I would watch it a zillion times over and over again! Such is the effect My Best Friend's Wedding had on me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"This too shall pass!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you are down and out and feeling awfully low&lt;br /&gt;When the whole world has shut its doors to you&lt;br /&gt;When all you want to do is mope around and sulk&lt;br /&gt;When there are no hues around but just the blues&lt;br /&gt;Just remember that&lt;br /&gt;"This too shall pass"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Easier said than done, some may argue.Is the glass always half full?But then,one has to start from somewhere! Everything in life always comes with a price tag! A few days back I got a forward which said,"Everything in life is temporary. So if things are going good, enjoy it,it won't last for ever. If things are bad,don't worry because it wont last forever either!"How true!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The topmost priority in everyones wish-list is " If only life were so simple" Unfortunately it is not and moreover it can not! It may sound as a philosophic attitude towards life,but that is the way it is!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Problems have become a way of life. So we can not play escapist.Look around, there is always a shoulder to cry on , a friend to lend a helping hand, a mother to dole out words of encouragement,a loved one to stand by you through thick and thin, as steady as a rock, and someone to tell you that "this too shall pass"!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"When you love someone, just say it there, else the moment just passes you by!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How true it is!We have reached a stage where we have to double check our own thoughts before we mouth them! Is this the right time?Can I say so now?Or maybe,maybe, I should just check with the other side of me before I say anything! The thought process is endless!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not narrowing it down to just the person you have fallen in love  with, but on the broader level too. Parents, siblings, friends,teachers ......anyone who has left a lasting impression on you. And yeah, not restricting it to phrases like " I love you" but to other simple things, like for instance "Thanks"!Many people may not be too vocal about the way they feel and might take a little longer to come out of the shell to really start talking!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say it then and there, else the beauty of the moment just fades away!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-115650455217623680?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/115650455217623680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=115650455217623680' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/115650455217623680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/115650455217623680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2006/08/quote-unquote-there-is-this-one-movie_25.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33273242.post-115648341581384513</id><published>2006-08-24T22:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-25T03:37:49.693-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Is it worth it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the second races past&lt;br /&gt;And the minute and the hour struggle to keep pace&lt;br /&gt;Are my efforts in vain?&lt;br /&gt;Is it worth it?&lt;br /&gt;Only time will tell!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have put my heart and soul to it&lt;br /&gt;Going about it like a maniac&lt;br /&gt;Failing to enjoy the fleeting moments of joy&lt;br /&gt;The passion in me soaring to new heights&lt;br /&gt;Is it worth it?&lt;br /&gt;Only time will tell!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toiling with a hope in my heart&lt;br /&gt;With endless optimism&lt;br /&gt;If it fails,&lt;br /&gt;With no one to blame but my own self&lt;br /&gt;Is it worth it?&lt;br /&gt;Only time will tell!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Credit is long overdue&lt;br /&gt;Some may say,&lt;br /&gt;To me?&lt;br /&gt;Oh no, I beg to differ!&lt;br /&gt;Is it worth it?&lt;br /&gt;Only time will tell!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At times abstract as it may seem&lt;br /&gt;With no course to take&lt;br /&gt;And yet, there is a new dawn awaiting&lt;br /&gt;Persistence pays , as they say&lt;br /&gt;Is it worth it?&lt;br /&gt;Only time will tell!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is arduous, but keep it going&lt;br /&gt;Sometime, someday I will realize&lt;br /&gt;When I see that joyful smile&lt;br /&gt;And the sparkle in the eyes&lt;br /&gt;That after all,&lt;br /&gt;It is worth it!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33273242-115648341581384513?l=boredom-rt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/feeds/115648341581384513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33273242&amp;postID=115648341581384513' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/115648341581384513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33273242/posts/default/115648341581384513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boredom-rt.blogspot.com/2006/08/is-it-worth-it-as-second-races-past.html' title=''/><author><name>rt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07018333839037184586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
