tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51640451347629396022024-03-06T12:02:49.115-08:00I AM.vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-78998485855405425412013-05-22T23:20:00.003-07:002013-05-22T23:26:55.916-07:00There you are :)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This post is for you so that you may grow up one day to learn the alphabet and perhaps read it to me :) You were born on the 21st of May at the UAE where I had come to visit my sister and you. As everybody wished, you came healthy and timely to this world. Cute and tender as a flower, silent and obedient like nobody else, I understood that day, the magic of creation, is this. Your tiny fingers with nails on them, with which you scratch your supple skin. I wonder again at the creator's magic. The blink every few seconds , like welcome snowfall, the grip on somebody's finger stronger by the sound of your own cry.The occasional smiles, that pulls you like the sight of a bright rainbow. The way you sleep, with one leg perched on top of another, the tiny toes shivering at my slightest touch.<br />
<br />
Basking in all the attention you get, sucking on your own fingers, you look at me by my side, as I type away that I love you, my dear Nephew :) :*</div>
vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-52036211777295528462012-04-23T11:22:00.001-07:002012-04-23T11:24:06.465-07:00Into the Void.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I cannot help smiling.I am too excited to blink.To know that the avid reader in me, the not-at-all-choosy-reader has been sleeping in the cradle of my heart ever since I had rebuked her, not to be a hindrance in my AC-cool vanity-flooded world.The time when really, I enjoyed murky dingy colors, warm and humid, that smelled of rain , compared to the bright bubbly fun colors, that smelt of sickly sweet fragrant air freshners.I had scared her to death.Or so I thought.She isn't dead.<br />
<br />
I'm suddenly feeling the rush to get drenched in the rain of words, the kind that follow you wherever you go,like the Hutch pup.Even to your bath and bed.And cloth you in your dream.As your dream.<br />
<br />
I'm glad she's awake now.And spontaneously so.Or not.May be stirred by the death.Not by grief, but because of a need.Because there is a void she needs to fill.One that did not exist before, like many other things she failed to notice.<br />
<br />
The words are coming slow now.It might even have stopped.Is she hesitant to take the plunge?Oh!yes.But at times, she could take a swim.To build the inside of the thing, she calls Void.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLB1x1jRW7tRMYoRV0Oc6beqgi0M-SwKRtv_9J9qtgyoxzEnqhMUMoxajllWJO9eUDRD59l21UVRc_waDnqMfY7HZ9Rr1KNeYNGoIsnSuYdyZbqKGVKiTUmLoWH360xCtB8aAZmVl31igT/s1600/i.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLB1x1jRW7tRMYoRV0Oc6beqgi0M-SwKRtv_9J9qtgyoxzEnqhMUMoxajllWJO9eUDRD59l21UVRc_waDnqMfY7HZ9Rr1KNeYNGoIsnSuYdyZbqKGVKiTUmLoWH360xCtB8aAZmVl31igT/s1600/i.jpg" /></a></div>(In memory of my dear friend Raghuram, who made an untimely exit from the world of words.For Him, who is the Godfather of the writer and reader in me.)<br />
<br />
</div>vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-54594444087080333682012-04-23T10:53:00.000-07:002012-04-23T10:53:35.526-07:00Call it 'Me'<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Yesterday :<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh52pa_GkjoPA2DNNnyPneTvMcFdpg90zeQOikcwwoe4DTtyVE47xBWRMAJnFsYn-FHnkCzF_mr8jApaapmTR8vK27tMbyF5NBWDGUYHCZgOPT6GXBBkPj2k3ARrsvhFr1von6Kptc8rVh/s1600/o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh52pa_GkjoPA2DNNnyPneTvMcFdpg90zeQOikcwwoe4DTtyVE47xBWRMAJnFsYn-FHnkCzF_mr8jApaapmTR8vK27tMbyF5NBWDGUYHCZgOPT6GXBBkPj2k3ARrsvhFr1von6Kptc8rVh/s200/o.jpg" width="200" /></a> a wandering feather in the wind, oblivious of my destiny, led by the breeze. I saw the kid stretch her hand, I flew away dancing with the breeze.<br />
<br />
I could feel, I made a wonderful sight.<br />
<br />
<br />
Today :<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvbWbK4NGhLw98UcC4UQFgk7r1-NgpfjKPXrQ3x2I55U18alPfiQXdnRlqxDW4vKLgq7GikvErYShe3pzn201QS-qB2vo4xtgat7jPPW0n-85GrocLD9FridmS0FGWbTkbJWsf6ItC_b9f/s1600/u.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvbWbK4NGhLw98UcC4UQFgk7r1-NgpfjKPXrQ3x2I55U18alPfiQXdnRlqxDW4vKLgq7GikvErYShe3pzn201QS-qB2vo4xtgat7jPPW0n-85GrocLD9FridmS0FGWbTkbJWsf6ItC_b9f/s200/u.jpg" width="200" /></a> a free-fall from the heights of a balloon into your open arms.Confetti, I am.Still purposeless, if not for the smile on your lips, even as you trod on me as you smile into the cam, as they sing 'Happy Birthday'.<br />
<br />
I can tell, I brought bliss.</div>vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-80170874313203486602012-04-22T12:23:00.000-07:002012-04-22T12:23:58.454-07:00the so-called-poet.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-H3p3Kkzl8ua6_msCER6Qq6C3M_jCBJW7LhCRlf9wm5j_NwegpOSNIvv91yzKaLg4k55TUBBin8OcWRkP9VqOjv53EAwgXUY5Ll7MXXPktYrOEC-ZGWeIY4s72oJ2UOqXpEN5M1w7z7F6/s1600/pencil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-H3p3Kkzl8ua6_msCER6Qq6C3M_jCBJW7LhCRlf9wm5j_NwegpOSNIvv91yzKaLg4k55TUBBin8OcWRkP9VqOjv53EAwgXUY5Ll7MXXPktYrOEC-ZGWeIY4s72oJ2UOqXpEN5M1w7z7F6/s1600/pencil.jpg" /></a></div>She sat down,her lap rocking the book,<br />
The pencil smiled, said 'i've seen this look',<br />
'but,whats cooking in your head,<br />
That the world has not yet read?'<br />
She took the pencil,stared at it,<br />
As if to force the wooden stick to spit,<br />
The sharp thoughts that are tearing down her inside,<br />
The bitter truths she has to confide<br />
Words escaped her,incapable of bearing the sin,<br />
Of giving voice to her thoughts within.<br />
she saw the letters leaving her,all of the alphabet,<br />
The only beings in the world,she considered her pet.<br />
She fondly remembered the times when they played around,<br />
The joy of finding and of being found.<br />
And pearls of tears dropped from her oyster eyes,<br />
To finally realize the pain of saying good-byes.<br />
'i'd never again ignore you,ever.i promise',<br />
Shouted her hair,nail amd every orifice.<br />
And the pencil stood up,from its reclining chair,<br />
And started writing with all its flair.<br />
Yet again. :) The so-called-poet.</div>vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-71869125789372356722012-03-08T12:31:00.001-08:002012-03-11T11:59:01.946-07:00happy valentines day :)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">She was shopping in the metro , with the city buzzing with valentine's day offers in the shops,when she sat down at a coffee shop with a book she had picked up on the way.As she flipped through the pages , she found a piece of paper flying past her.She grabbed it just in time and wondered whether it had been from her book or someone else's.she looked around and only saw a few girls hanging around clicking wierd pics of themselves and a few wierd couples having a tough time behaving themselves ;)<br />
<br />
and so she thought she might as well check if it was something important or interesting!and this is what she read.<br />
<br />
" ....the first valentines day when I'm painfully single.True,last year, I was inevitably single, but not painfully so.I believed that You were there,somewhere in the crowd, oggling at some other girl, yet thinking of me...<br />
<br />
What a perfect timing to wake up from my dream.A dream that has lead to the death of a girl.An innocent creature by nature,steered by the crowd into unknown territories,too talented, she camoufllaged her innocence well beneath her skills of being or acting rebellious, nobody knows which.Now what she was left with was a life without love, which blotches of guilt and stains of blood on the innocence that once was hers.<br />
<br />
I have now woken up from the sad demise of the girl.I am not scared she looked like me,I was not scared she was called my name.I am celebrating her death.Because for her love was life, and lost love was death.<br />
<br />
Happy Valentines Day"<br />
<br />
<br />
she did not know if it was fiction/a dairy entry , it was a mad piece of writing that left her stoned.How could two people think the same things,write the same things!!!<br />
<br />
</div>vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-61233156164236212532011-07-16T00:01:00.001-07:002013-05-25T11:26:04.631-07:00understand...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
understanding someone is difficult...but at certain times,making someone understand that you understand,is even more difficult!!</div>
vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-75417952811777916732011-07-14T06:23:00.000-07:002011-07-14T06:23:10.296-07:00Through the door.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ylrJdtBgUglG9SzyzKL_oIEaieAaHqFH1iT5IDCbvIS7bjc4yCk8lSpdJMD56iRk573N4QfA-5NHppA0Ttp4nxL_oxr8C7waUd_zuEpT9ZhOOmfyER1Rj6atbNGmX6k1ZAEG5-Jmbgtt/s1600/door.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ylrJdtBgUglG9SzyzKL_oIEaieAaHqFH1iT5IDCbvIS7bjc4yCk8lSpdJMD56iRk573N4QfA-5NHppA0Ttp4nxL_oxr8C7waUd_zuEpT9ZhOOmfyER1Rj6atbNGmX6k1ZAEG5-Jmbgtt/s400/door.jpg" width="298" /></a>I always kept my door open, hoping that some day you'll walk through it.I looked at the open doorway for so long that I thought I was looking at a photograph...because nothing changed..and i stopped waiting and looking for you.<br />
<br />
And then when I wasn't looking,you came from behind,through the doorway and hugged me tight,as if there were no yesterdays and I closed the door behind you, and night fell..and in the middle of the night,you jumped out through the small window,leaving your innocent smile on my lips.And it was night ever since.<br />
<br />
<br />
But what I did not know was that you came up every day,found the closed door And the closed window and went back daily to come again..till you stopped.when will you come again?This time,I'll leave the door open for you,dear morning :)vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-8249974696928945222011-07-12T21:34:00.000-07:002011-07-12T21:34:18.222-07:00Devils of desireI love dawn...I am a sage.<br />
I understand the philosophies of life and see the Divine's will in everything.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRXeHqYbEp9Ng1SlNUlZVBazUoAbKTQYY9wjhN9fkm4LYnj9vtxSoEpf9zbD2VPWUjADFgaE4CkHZI3HsOtShWhnHtswDmtz-R3AzJSifMOC1TCoRpSBkyNlf6PeL0PdKEkBp26ORFL2e4/s1600/desireeeeee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRXeHqYbEp9Ng1SlNUlZVBazUoAbKTQYY9wjhN9fkm4LYnj9vtxSoEpf9zbD2VPWUjADFgaE4CkHZI3HsOtShWhnHtswDmtz-R3AzJSifMOC1TCoRpSBkyNlf6PeL0PdKEkBp26ORFL2e4/s200/desireeeeee.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
But dusk!!! As it comes,Vedanta drowns with the sun!<i>The Devils of Desire </i>haunt me till the journey ends and dawn shoos them away...<br />
But I pray,I do not want them to leave me.For I'm afraid,they'll take refuge in you.vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-17886195868308470912011-07-05T23:24:00.000-07:002011-07-05T23:24:13.285-07:00To Mr.Richie Rich.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">"I'm glad he's rich......'cos he's gonna pay for everything..he did!!!"<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSstnWUfRRed27uGaiTgioKHYiPhYjHhqumMN-actw1L_0eF7BnJkRnz2-dcQEtOUhNBBanh90hOH9n_Y4kMZQDZA05eWW4d6Y64Eh11WMEu1bLroq_kYynRpgXut-bRGQ6i1szzvtOAqy/s1600/richierich.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSstnWUfRRed27uGaiTgioKHYiPhYjHhqumMN-actw1L_0eF7BnJkRnz2-dcQEtOUhNBBanh90hOH9n_Y4kMZQDZA05eWW4d6Y64Eh11WMEu1bLroq_kYynRpgXut-bRGQ6i1szzvtOAqy/s1600/richierich.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
</div>vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-53613973343934705192011-07-04T23:11:00.000-07:002011-07-04T23:38:40.503-07:00a drunk saint.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="color: #ffe599;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>He was the third born and the only son in the family.Pampered in his early days he grew up to be a brat.At 43,he has been married once,has 2 children,and has been living separately without getting divorced for six years now.A drunkard,with a sad story to tell.If his own self had a little to contribute to his disastrously eventful life,fate had more....</b></span></div><div style="color: #ffe599;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #ffe599;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>A brilliant boy, a lazy student.A wicked seed,now a burly oak.A jack of all trades,master of some :) There were few things that he couldn't repair...like broken hearts.But he believed he was too extraordinary to go for work,for his parents were unthroned king and queen of the place...But then he went to the Gulf to find work to add to his resume.And his departure from the place was as sudden as his arrival.War broke out across the seas and oceans,and he was literally shipped back to his home unseen.</b></span></div><div style="color: #ffe599;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #ffe599;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Back home,he went into a shell,so as not to hear "paapi chellunnidam paathalam" ..a proverb in malayalam..translating into ... "hell, wherever the sinner goes".By the time,his sons had picked up their paternal qualities and had become miniature daddy dummies spitting cold wrath at anyone who may disappoint them in the least.</b></span></div><div style="color: #ffe599;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div style="color: #ffe599;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Not long after ,his King fell,and he rose to power.Power?To beat,scold and drink,day in and day out.Years passed and his other half and 2 quarters (he he...:P) fled his kingdom for dear life.The queen cried to death.The jewelery was taken care of.The greenery of the entire empire withered away as trucks came.loaded them with logs,the drivers exchanged money and sped away.The once envied palace lay in a webbed maze explored by king sized mice.</b></span></div><div style="color: #ffe599;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div style="color: #ffe599;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>But deep down his heart,he was a saint.It wasn't his fault that he was pampered too much.It wasn't his fault that war broke out just one night, after he stepped into their land.Even after all these blotches on his personality, he is the best citizen in the place,present for anything for anybody,just for service.He is the most decent person to ladies and the oldies.Not a word from his mouth was close to lie..when he isn't drunk,he is the best uncle a niece could have.</b></span></div><div style="color: #ffe599;"><br />
</div><br />
</div>vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-90618928967022875492011-07-03T02:11:00.000-07:002011-07-03T02:32:06.322-07:00death.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><i>death, was i scared of you?</i><br />
<i>when the cold winds blew?</i><br />
<i>over the graves of my ol' loved ones,and</i><br />
<i>when you orphaned many poor sons?</i><br />
<br />
<i>yes,you are the uninvited guest </i><br />
<i>but at times,you come as love and lust,</i><br />
<i>a torrent of darkness,grief and void,</i><br />
<i>invincible to man and android</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>today i look back and let a lone sigh,</i><br />
<i>and seek assurance in life's (a) lie,</i><br />
<i>i no longer am scared of your soulles silhouette,</i><br />
<i>i would embrace you and be pleased to be at rest.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
</div>vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-45837345628941602872011-07-02T11:37:00.003-07:002011-07-02T11:37:30.623-07:00promise<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> if only every tomorrow would be a promise that yesterdays will be forgotten!!</div>vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-42733549122162896552011-06-30T23:49:00.000-07:002011-07-01T00:11:03.926-07:00introspections of a lil boy..or a man?he doesnt knw.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJASOI6GcjeMjyBad0V6bZeMrcQYpeVIJ2n7_1EbuSf9-bq__iRbYCeAnl5glbo4hVxNSMQ_X3FiR6gwbxmm5oSRSm2Z9zCKEEOPqrkts0Q-jurGq4oz9KRbFd1lnupQdhBIymtWh0hbfL/s1600/prince.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJASOI6GcjeMjyBad0V6bZeMrcQYpeVIJ2n7_1EbuSf9-bq__iRbYCeAnl5glbo4hVxNSMQ_X3FiR6gwbxmm5oSRSm2Z9zCKEEOPqrkts0Q-jurGq4oz9KRbFd1lnupQdhBIymtWh0hbfL/s1600/prince.jpg" /></a></div><i>I am the prince charming :) </i><br />
<i>I'm dreamt about,wanted,lusted and craved for. :)</i><br />
<i>did I forget to say that I'm loved? Well,I did not forget it.I chose not to say.</i><br />
<i> </i><br />
<i>I know in the hollow of my heart (i know its hollow :( ) that I am The Abstraction of what wealthy parents can do to a child..(yes,though I've celebrated more than say 7-8 self b'day booze parties</i><i>...I'd rather regard myself as a brat, a spoilt child. )</i>..<i>I always received gifts...gifts of solitude with dangling price tags.sometimes they called it play station,sometimes computer,some other times ..bla..i stopped looking at them by those 'some' times.</i><br />
<br />
catch up with you later..one of those gifts just pinged :p</div>vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-17974405356090215982011-06-30T22:10:00.000-07:002011-06-30T22:10:53.801-07:00not again. :(<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRtapKiVZ2SVBRbRyPZcC0TTosXiE168C3b6RCAAEi09w-IBAQWcZ-YDBtsfgvtYsMKx0o8z8pMZrJ8xO2kNOFcoK4uz4tvGpcL5P1Zav0HQyK-97e80LHGTy2TMPQOqD6g9fyFDmI-lVg/s1600/NOT_AGAIN_by_Flippy111.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRtapKiVZ2SVBRbRyPZcC0TTosXiE168C3b6RCAAEi09w-IBAQWcZ-YDBtsfgvtYsMKx0o8z8pMZrJ8xO2kNOFcoK4uz4tvGpcL5P1Zav0HQyK-97e80LHGTy2TMPQOqD6g9fyFDmI-lVg/s200/NOT_AGAIN_by_Flippy111.jpg" width="200" /></a>I always wanted to say this,<br />
but never got the chance,<br />
The days that I spent with you were (i think)<br />
the best I'd ever had,..<br />
<br />
You gave wings to my dreams<br />
and I flied unaware<br />
that when I'll wake up from my trance,<br />
I'd never dare to love again. :(</div>vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-46893839782237409102011-06-26T08:53:00.000-07:002011-06-26T08:53:32.191-07:00a lover's confession<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; line-height: 200%; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">That day shall never go from my memory,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; line-height: 200%; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">when I realized all of you and my dormant self too.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; line-height: 200%; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">The experience of torture and condemnation,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; line-height: 200%; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">has ever since smudged my days with tears.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; line-height: 200%; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; line-height: 200%; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">Bitter memories flush into me,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; line-height: 200%; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">As I recollect that droopy day,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; line-height: 200%; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">-- to know that you are all alone, deprived of love,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; line-height: 200%; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">Its not a great feeling, I should say—</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; line-height: 200%; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">To be asked by everyone,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; line-height: 200%; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">"I'm sorry to hear that….what went wrong?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; line-height: 200%; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">It's worse than a quake,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; line-height: 200%; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">For it ends within a blink….., nature is kind.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; line-height: 200%; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">But not so now, torture trails behind……….</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; line-height: 200%; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; line-height: 200%; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">If you ask me today, I hate to say,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; line-height: 200%; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHXg5fs8ZM1sY192yuhfvUMWfFvFAOsqmExTZF30_IJON1mvSH8nVHQQK1B8A_Qxgak62GdVktfDHNFhDyl8loVgZ4Ne-7kmXHT0mprh_P3rpWYPsoFPwi5weLxCdibFxurie7rg_NxwFi/s1600/pravs-j-i-cried-over-you.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHXg5fs8ZM1sY192yuhfvUMWfFvFAOsqmExTZF30_IJON1mvSH8nVHQQK1B8A_Qxgak62GdVktfDHNFhDyl8loVgZ4Ne-7kmXHT0mprh_P3rpWYPsoFPwi5weLxCdibFxurie7rg_NxwFi/s320/pravs-j-i-cried-over-you.jpg" width="191" /></a><span style="color: purple; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">But its better not to love,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; line-height: 200%; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">And even better not to be loved,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; line-height: 200%; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">For then , there shall none to say,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" dir="LTR" style="direction: ltr; line-height: 200%; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed;"><i><span style="color: purple; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">"SORRY …..BUT ITS ALL OVER"</span></i></div></div>vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-57397382361659124942011-06-14T05:41:00.000-07:002011-06-14T05:41:28.699-07:00quest!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> Today i look at the few books strewn over my bed,<br />
the few books i have been searching something for.<br />
As i moved to my new niche,i started my quest for it.<br />
the many books stacked upon the high shelf told,<br />
it was rather ambitious of me<br />
to dream of finding its meaning.<br />
<br />
they gave a rather ominous look <br />
that warned me to make better use of the clock<br />
as i explored the books from <br />
one paperback end to other, they said<br />
what i'm trying to find will abscond me forever..and ever.<br />
and so it has!till today.<br />
<br />
halfway through one book i found happiness.<br />
it followed grief.<br />
but my quest ,was life.<br />
what the book told did not excite me nor satisfy.<br />
and later i found love..<br />
disguised to offset my mission.<br />
<br />
i hated the oerver,i took the wrong road.<br />
i tried every other book,and got used to the ordeal.<br />
it was no longer a surprise, a disappointment ,<br />
for it sank into me that no book can<br />
satisfy me with the meaning of life!<br />
the meaning of love,the poison in its fang!<br />
<br />
today as i look at those few books,<br />
i'm disturbed by an anonymous sound..<br />
a pensive outline in the mirror replies,<br />
one does not ever find the meaning of life<br />
one gets the meaning of life..from the books i have not read.<br />
from the dictionary of life..<br />
and my quest begins.<br />
</div>vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-20520958843517369602011-05-17T01:40:00.000-07:002011-05-17T01:40:53.027-07:00pause!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">a lil space is needed between words to make coherent sentences.So,i have to pause...<br />
later :)</div>vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-67447496447831839682011-05-15T02:03:00.001-07:002011-05-15T02:25:54.841-07:00a shock of memory :)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">she was barely six when she told goodbye to the place where she spent the lion's share of her childhood..as of what she called her childhood within the six long years out there..:) . Anybody would feel that a six year old's memory wont travel with her to places through 15 years..but it did..<br />
<br />
Transformed by the many people she met,the many things she learnt and the many experiences she had, she is a new person,in looks, a woman;in thoughts, a philosopher; in emotions,an innocent kid whose memories remain untarnished despite the rudeness of life.<br />
<br />
Thanks to social networking sites,she began joining her broken links to the past, a past she had unfinished business with.It was incomplete,she felt,somehow,not to have enjoyed then the way she does now.She used to be chained to the pillar of loneliness and rules,and she was always happy on the receiving side of pain.Little did the six year old realize,that her childhood was not to be a wad of papers to receive "stars" and "goods".<br />
<br />
And she searched for her long forgotten friends online,with no great results to be happy with.But today ,she is a different gal,rich with experiences , baked with the right amount of disappointments in life, this was no surprise to her.As the years went by,her spirits too got dampened.And then on a typical late night as she was chatting with her friends online,suddenly like a joyous bolt of lightening on her temple, she remembered a name..no two..Gurmeet and Gurpreet..that's the name..not Lucky and Lovely...the names that they were called by.<br />
<br />
But now its been 15 years,still, she found them online.She put all her six year old's craving for friends,in two lil words.."Remember me.....?".That question mark was preceded by a few li'l spaces into which she crammed all her memories,ripe with age.The day when she packed all her toys and frocks into a small duffel bag and her new hairband refusing to stay put on her head.The flashes of smiles the aunties were giving each other,the short silent secrets passed among her friends,a pang of guilt for breaking a promise of never ever leaving them rose to her throat from the bottom of her stomach..She silently smiled her toothless smile, when her friends' parents gifted her a double decker pencil box..in her then favorite color.Raw Green.In full glory.With an inbuilt sharpener.She momentarily,became happy for leaving the place.What joy does parting gifts bring!!!<br />
<br />
15 years went by in 15 seconds,as it often happens in Indian movies..Gurmeet remembers.A whole lot of questions asked, a whole lot of things said,which weer never told before cos they had not learnt the words then.Childhood,an age when meaning exist without words.These days words do,without meanings.But still,they remember,as she does.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-83032443302245382692011-05-12T01:10:00.000-07:002011-05-13T13:32:49.185-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">its like im trying to untangle fallen hair..<br />
<br />
</div>vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-79904079106069368002011-05-09T15:44:00.001-07:002011-05-10T02:55:22.798-07:00moon and the balloon!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">In nights as these after I've whispered good night to you, <br />
I think what good ive done to feel what is true.<br />
as I drench myself in the warm rain of your love,<br />
I see you watching me from the alcove.<br />
I'm shy, I smile to myself and blink,<br />
'cos today doing it my heart doesnt sink,<br />
there used to be a time I was scared ,<br />
to blink and think I'll lose all that I cared...<br />
<br />
<br />
I wash myself in the glow of the moon,<br />
my self bouyant, a newly blown balloon..<br />
and I taste your touch through my skin,<br />
I remember your silhouette ,like mine,thin.<br />
and then the balloon began to shrink,<br />
I wonder why,it fails me to think...<br />
<br />
<br />
and the moon still shines down at me,<br />
however rude,to me, life be..<br />
and so,I wash myself in the glow of the moon..<br />
yet another tomorrow as a new balloon.<br />
even as I see you looking from the alcove,<br />
smiling though the strokes of paint,from the table above.</div>vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-34464084924265723832011-05-06T02:50:00.000-07:002011-05-06T02:50:35.173-07:00my story...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> <span style="font-size: x-large;">the pen that writes my story is in my hands.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> The story is half untold and at an enticing juncture....</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie4QGOSSb3g-2-IGTP5hTP0kMAXK8XgqPA01W6ssB6nvybOoCctX8leVsmOoTUYXee3qA86YEnFKkZqnwnqLFk28NqTad5oTjTtmiu2Bq_ReHIbm1h7XpyPZC-z7lqPb_7G-5JpWrci9O8/s1600/quill_n_paper.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie4QGOSSb3g-2-IGTP5hTP0kMAXK8XgqPA01W6ssB6nvybOoCctX8leVsmOoTUYXee3qA86YEnFKkZqnwnqLFk28NqTad5oTjTtmiu2Bq_ReHIbm1h7XpyPZC-z7lqPb_7G-5JpWrci9O8/s1600/quill_n_paper.gif" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">uh -oh!!! Ink over!!!! :(</span></div>vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-69300432220507874332011-05-05T22:22:00.000-07:002011-05-06T21:56:20.252-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="color: #ead1dc;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">malhar...for u</span></b></i></span></div><div style="color: #ead1dc;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><i><b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">this is for malhar...my friend!</span> </span></b></i> </span></div><div style="color: #ead1dc;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #ead1dc;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWe0Li_W6cKuNkFkd8sd1H2qk09L53j2nBr6kELyORvXjv3jAle0-7XT4t9JlZdp9ogF7-G_hmlb2gSr13tWvqr9BLfZK2Ell0IpwHMtGniRCAWA7BU0hVkxKVpRLcppdJfPq5HoO5XVu8/s1600/Malhar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWe0Li_W6cKuNkFkd8sd1H2qk09L53j2nBr6kELyORvXjv3jAle0-7XT4t9JlZdp9ogF7-G_hmlb2gSr13tWvqr9BLfZK2Ell0IpwHMtGniRCAWA7BU0hVkxKVpRLcppdJfPq5HoO5XVu8/s1600/Malhar.jpg" /> </a> </div><div style="color: #ead1dc;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #ead1dc;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #ead1dc;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #ead1dc;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #ead1dc;">Malhar has indeed made life for me,truly filled with sunshine,when it was wet,sticky and muddy and people just avoided being wet themselves..</div><div style="color: #ead1dc;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #ead1dc;">I struggle for words,rather reasons.....because Malhar is one friend I'll fight the world for..reasons do not matter.</div><div style="color: #ead1dc;">There's a greater good for all the issues in life.I realize now.</div><div style="color: #ead1dc;">Every small wooden log I presumed to be hindrances,has only helped me sail through the depths of the wicked river called Life!!</div><div style="color: #ead1dc;">Malhar steers the way!...</div><div style="color: #ead1dc;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #ead1dc;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #ead1dc;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #ead1dc;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #ead1dc;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #ead1dc;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #ead1dc;"><br />
</div></div>vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-80008483123912411492011-05-04T06:00:00.000-07:002011-05-05T03:48:40.071-07:00a lot of wat if's!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3GJKcuaHKcAx3BuTF_TInGp6p_Nw6_umfyVCOoGgsyok1IgVdftxlHj9v7llpaHMtCoCr3xKG2LHHUbWp9tv9VqAtIQVV4MADJwahjffQ7RR0iAKnfhU1HntdBaEPNIx-mZvBZwfOtvVb/s1600/whatif.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3GJKcuaHKcAx3BuTF_TInGp6p_Nw6_umfyVCOoGgsyok1IgVdftxlHj9v7llpaHMtCoCr3xKG2LHHUbWp9tv9VqAtIQVV4MADJwahjffQ7RR0iAKnfhU1HntdBaEPNIx-mZvBZwfOtvVb/s320/whatif.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="color: #990000; text-align: center;">what if i hadn't erased what i had written..???</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #990000;">there would have been a lot of what if's!!</span></div></div>vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-33699531462929654082011-04-27T12:12:00.000-07:002011-04-27T12:12:14.168-07:00the imperfections<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I do not seek the perfect man..with the perfect height and the perfect posture.<br />
I want him to have all the little imperfections for which i would love fighting with him..for which i'd complain to him..jus to finally tell him that with all those imperfections, <i>I love you!</i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD_1Z4WcyHUtJxxnQds4pez0FkTHryv9h3y_mXQ6XzH3S1h7AgSpldafFwYTBz6zoMhpZXvmHBONECR3ASzW_-AzizT7hcrC6MBthPv-DEovwKt5-CUh_pofTk5sTnfA9IFiauctBvwm7h/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD_1Z4WcyHUtJxxnQds4pez0FkTHryv9h3y_mXQ6XzH3S1h7AgSpldafFwYTBz6zoMhpZXvmHBONECR3ASzW_-AzizT7hcrC6MBthPv-DEovwKt5-CUh_pofTk5sTnfA9IFiauctBvwm7h/s400/images.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
</div>vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5164045134762939602.post-54111654583844509242011-04-26T04:49:00.000-07:002011-04-26T04:50:45.410-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1jCs0M1lJuiw8AFCzQMf5y1ZL4bvxyeG8w5GWwhMjj9zlljhG3URackdldsPIwZuURkmA0_6SshlxWf8tr0gc10V16TGipxpTkrFciToDK8zvV3d-DtkHsKu8x4AirrKFlGr3eKLdtHkE/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1jCs0M1lJuiw8AFCzQMf5y1ZL4bvxyeG8w5GWwhMjj9zlljhG3URackdldsPIwZuURkmA0_6SshlxWf8tr0gc10V16TGipxpTkrFciToDK8zvV3d-DtkHsKu8x4AirrKFlGr3eKLdtHkE/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">the smartest lesson in 20 years.. FORGET!!</span></span></i></div>vandana balakrisnanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00123561057586040218noreply@blogger.com0