I had been commissioned to write some pieces for a website, which was supposed to be this next-hottest-thing on the Internet. However, the owners chickened out of the deal at the last moment. This is one of the four articles that I had written and now that I will be no longer paid to write for them nor would these articles be used, I have taken the liberty of putting them here. I have struck off a few lines as they do not go with the general nature of this blog.
Please go through them and tell me was this article good enough to be used or not. One can say that this is my idea of revenge, but then this can be taken as healthy criticism as well. Anyways, both bouquets and brickbats are welcome. Here it goes:
These are rich times. We love our comforts and serve to increase them, making alliances that help us climb the “success” ladder.
Success—a relative term yet again. Some define it as an ability to earn as much material comforts as possible. Then there is this other school of thought, according to which, success is your ability of being remembered long after you’re gone. They say that you do it by spreading love.
But we live in busy times where one does not have time for love—here it means romantic love. Every actor has at least once in their lives claimed that they can’t afford to fall in love. But ultimately, they do. That’s the beauty of it all.
However, somehow, in our quest of wealth, we all tend to run away from love. We have a tendency to consider it as a burden, something that will chain us and yet, come on let’s face it, still love those lovey-dovey numbers by Kailash Kher and Savage Garden, not because of the music alone but because of the lyrics as well.
So, then why does such a contradiction exist in our lives? To this, my dear friends, I have no answer. I won’t pretend to be a saint, nor would I be hypocritical about it—I am still hesitant to embrace love.
The article may not make sense to many. They may say that I’m being too vague and random in my thoughts. However, there are many who do know what I’m talking about, who’ve been here and understand my feelings. The next paragraph is for them and for those who’ve stuck with me till here.
The Eagles have doled out some great advice in the form of their haunting number Desperado.
Don’t you draw the queen of diamonds boy,
She’ll hurt you if she’s able,
You know the queen of hearts is always your bet.
Despite this being one of my favourite songs, I find myself unable to follow what it preaches. What about you?
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Heel-ed
What happens when a not-so-girlish girl tries to be girlish? Disaster.
The day began with the usual nautankis of mine. I forced dad to drop me to the Metro station because it was him who made me get into that freak course (though I have started enjoying myself there but I’m not telling him otherwise I will loose my pick-and-drop service). After the course I had plans to go and watch Spidey 3 with Bitch No. 1 and Bitch No. 3. I am no. 2 (You can find us on bitchno.whatever@kaminepankihadd.com. The website has been under consideration since two years.)
Bad luck struck (as usual). We couldn’t manage to get the tickets despite stalking a pair of men who were waiting for some of their friends and had just two tickets. We decided to sit in our good ol’Mc Donald’s where we usually hang around and can be found either tarot carding or making fun of others. Even the staff knows us well. In fact, I did a tarot session with them too for which they gave us free ice-creams. All details later.
So, we were just sitting idle and watching television there when we happened to meet a friend, who was with his friend. This friend of his is known to us and it so happened that he is more into girls now. Let’s call him bug. He has turned into a major irritating factor. He suggested that we paid a visit to the newest mall in town and we agreed.
Now it so happened that No. 3 was wearing pencil heels. Since she had thought that all she was going to do was to watch the movie and then hitch her ass on to a rickshaw and get home, she thought she might as well wear heels. While pencilled heels need one to sit and look pretty and not walk around much, you need to make proper use of your feet to explore a mall. As it is No. 3 walks a bit slow and add heels to that, you get Snail No. 1. She said her ankles were aching. So, being the benevolent friend that I am, I decided to put an end to her miseries. I asked her to change footwear with me.
And the misadventure began. Destiny and heels made me realise how tough modelling can be. It needs brains to manage yourself and I suppose nothing short of a management degree would do. Trying not to fall on somebody, I started walking. Even normally, I sleepwalk most of the times and keep bumping into people. So not bumping into anyone and not stepping on their toes became a perilous job. I would rather have Mr UM's story to edit everyday (He writes shit and I hate doing his stories which are about crappy issues anyway. I don’t know who clears such stories).
We couldn’t get a rickshaw till the Metro station and had to walk. On top of that, No. 3 decided to treat us with ice candies. I wanted an ice cream but she will have none of it. Ice candy it was, and that too from a vendor who didn't have my favourite raspberry-mango candy. I had to settle down for a cola. (She is such a bitch). So, finally there I was, balancing the bag, the ice candy, the heels and myself, walking, or rather trying to walk, and people giving me company from time-to-time. No. 1 was quite sympathetic (she could have been better) but couldn’t help much as Bug was irritating her. No. 3 was acting Mommy, trying to help me cross the road.
Finally, I saw heaven. There it was, smiling benignly at me, asking me to take refuge in it—the Metro station. But God decided to have one last bit of fun at my expense before he retired for the day. An imposing flight of stairs greeted me. That could have been enough to dash all my hopes. But I am a shameless git. I simply took off the heels at the metro station and walked barefoot. Braving the stupefied glances and smirks, I walked on and on and finally boarded the Metro and slumped myself on to the seat and then proceeded to taunt No. 3. I told her what a big fool she was (she still is and will perhaps remain one all her life) and how I got her a boil because of her foolishness. However, being a thick skin, she took my taunts in her stride and I was unsuccessful yet again to reform her girlish ways.
The boil has healed, but not before I was heel-ed.
The day began with the usual nautankis of mine. I forced dad to drop me to the Metro station because it was him who made me get into that freak course (though I have started enjoying myself there but I’m not telling him otherwise I will loose my pick-and-drop service). After the course I had plans to go and watch Spidey 3 with Bitch No. 1 and Bitch No. 3. I am no. 2 (You can find us on bitchno.whatever@kaminepankihadd.com. The website has been under consideration since two years.)
Bad luck struck (as usual). We couldn’t manage to get the tickets despite stalking a pair of men who were waiting for some of their friends and had just two tickets. We decided to sit in our good ol’Mc Donald’s where we usually hang around and can be found either tarot carding or making fun of others. Even the staff knows us well. In fact, I did a tarot session with them too for which they gave us free ice-creams. All details later.
So, we were just sitting idle and watching television there when we happened to meet a friend, who was with his friend. This friend of his is known to us and it so happened that he is more into girls now. Let’s call him bug. He has turned into a major irritating factor. He suggested that we paid a visit to the newest mall in town and we agreed.
Now it so happened that No. 3 was wearing pencil heels. Since she had thought that all she was going to do was to watch the movie and then hitch her ass on to a rickshaw and get home, she thought she might as well wear heels. While pencilled heels need one to sit and look pretty and not walk around much, you need to make proper use of your feet to explore a mall. As it is No. 3 walks a bit slow and add heels to that, you get Snail No. 1. She said her ankles were aching. So, being the benevolent friend that I am, I decided to put an end to her miseries. I asked her to change footwear with me.
And the misadventure began. Destiny and heels made me realise how tough modelling can be. It needs brains to manage yourself and I suppose nothing short of a management degree would do. Trying not to fall on somebody, I started walking. Even normally, I sleepwalk most of the times and keep bumping into people. So not bumping into anyone and not stepping on their toes became a perilous job. I would rather have Mr UM's story to edit everyday (He writes shit and I hate doing his stories which are about crappy issues anyway. I don’t know who clears such stories).
We couldn’t get a rickshaw till the Metro station and had to walk. On top of that, No. 3 decided to treat us with ice candies. I wanted an ice cream but she will have none of it. Ice candy it was, and that too from a vendor who didn't have my favourite raspberry-mango candy. I had to settle down for a cola. (She is such a bitch). So, finally there I was, balancing the bag, the ice candy, the heels and myself, walking, or rather trying to walk, and people giving me company from time-to-time. No. 1 was quite sympathetic (she could have been better) but couldn’t help much as Bug was irritating her. No. 3 was acting Mommy, trying to help me cross the road.
Finally, I saw heaven. There it was, smiling benignly at me, asking me to take refuge in it—the Metro station. But God decided to have one last bit of fun at my expense before he retired for the day. An imposing flight of stairs greeted me. That could have been enough to dash all my hopes. But I am a shameless git. I simply took off the heels at the metro station and walked barefoot. Braving the stupefied glances and smirks, I walked on and on and finally boarded the Metro and slumped myself on to the seat and then proceeded to taunt No. 3. I told her what a big fool she was (she still is and will perhaps remain one all her life) and how I got her a boil because of her foolishness. However, being a thick skin, she took my taunts in her stride and I was unsuccessful yet again to reform her girlish ways.
The boil has healed, but not before I was heel-ed.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Hakuna Matata
There’s just one philosophy that’s worth considering, that of Hakuna Matata. However, it ain’t that easy to follow. To many it doesn’t sound propah.
I, however, have never cared about anything being proper or improper. But there are some things that never seem to go away—that of change. It’s a reality—I won’t call it a sad one—people change. It’s pretty natural. It is, in fact, required to keep life going, for a process called evolution of man, of the self.
People, whom I care about, say I have changed. I agree I have and I can never be apologetic about it. Though, I am a bit uncomfortable with myself and with the world, I am sure that if I give myself time, the discomfort will vanish. I don’t have problems with myself, at least not right now.
However, the part of the world where I live and love, does not feel comfortable with me any longer. My friends, who care for me and love me more than I love myself, are perturbed and perhaps, upset. One has even cried because of this change. All I can say is that I am sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. Moreover, I didn’t even know what was going on. Though I did have a vague idea that they were feeling bad and left-out because of me changing. But I wonder why they didn’t tell me anything about it earlier. And I wonder why they couldn’t digest the new me. Did I behave so despicably?
If only life could have been much more simpler and problem-free…
If only Hakuna Matata could work for me as well, or perhaps, work for others around me.
I, however, have never cared about anything being proper or improper. But there are some things that never seem to go away—that of change. It’s a reality—I won’t call it a sad one—people change. It’s pretty natural. It is, in fact, required to keep life going, for a process called evolution of man, of the self.
People, whom I care about, say I have changed. I agree I have and I can never be apologetic about it. Though, I am a bit uncomfortable with myself and with the world, I am sure that if I give myself time, the discomfort will vanish. I don’t have problems with myself, at least not right now.
However, the part of the world where I live and love, does not feel comfortable with me any longer. My friends, who care for me and love me more than I love myself, are perturbed and perhaps, upset. One has even cried because of this change. All I can say is that I am sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. Moreover, I didn’t even know what was going on. Though I did have a vague idea that they were feeling bad and left-out because of me changing. But I wonder why they didn’t tell me anything about it earlier. And I wonder why they couldn’t digest the new me. Did I behave so despicably?
If only life could have been much more simpler and problem-free…
If only Hakuna Matata could work for me as well, or perhaps, work for others around me.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
A father and his daughter
This was a poem that I wrote in class XII on my father and the kind of relationship I share with him. I wondered if I could produce it here. So here it goes:
Me and my father are a perfect match,
Our arguments are worth hearing and a treat to watch.
We just need a topic that's all,
It does not matter whether it's big or small.
Whether India will see a new light,
Or it can be today's students' miserable plight.
The calories I burn is a regular issue,
In the end though none of us, but my mother needs a tissue.
I just love to argue with him,
So many topics in my mind regularly swim.
He too needs just a little hint,
In our debates, around the world we sprint.
Jules Verne took eighty days to go around the world,
Spare us just eighty seconds sir! Isn't it a record?
In the end, none of us wins,
Though the heat of our arguments burns people's skins.
In our home, you will never find a dove,
But spare that, we do each other love.
Without us, our home is barren, there's no laughter,
After all, he is my dad and I, his daughter.
Love you Dad. You are the first man in my life and there can be no other man who can take that place away from you. You will be the most important man in my life—forever. Come what may...
Me and my father are a perfect match,
Our arguments are worth hearing and a treat to watch.
We just need a topic that's all,
It does not matter whether it's big or small.
Whether India will see a new light,
Or it can be today's students' miserable plight.
The calories I burn is a regular issue,
In the end though none of us, but my mother needs a tissue.
I just love to argue with him,
So many topics in my mind regularly swim.
He too needs just a little hint,
In our debates, around the world we sprint.
Jules Verne took eighty days to go around the world,
Spare us just eighty seconds sir! Isn't it a record?
In the end, none of us wins,
Though the heat of our arguments burns people's skins.
In our home, you will never find a dove,
But spare that, we do each other love.
Without us, our home is barren, there's no laughter,
After all, he is my dad and I, his daughter.
Love you Dad. You are the first man in my life and there can be no other man who can take that place away from you. You will be the most important man in my life—forever. Come what may...
Monday, November 13, 2006
The friends who weren't
Life charts its own course and there are things that are beyond your control. This is what Bhavya learnt the wrong way. A strong personality and a real hot-headed one too, she really trusted her friends. Although in school, she had always felt alone, she used to help her friends with their homework and all. She had been waging a battle against herself from the time she felt she had grown-up and her parents thought that she hadn’t. So, she decided in her parents’ favour and decided she hadn’t. She did whatever she was told, and learnt to keep a tight control over her needs and desires. She learnt how to pretend that she was happy, when she was not. She felt like committing suicide.
These friends of hers were her lifeline. They managed to keep her alive and kicking during those difficult days. They were able to bring a genuine smile on her lips even though her heart used to cry out at all times. Although she never told them her real feelings because she knew they wouldn’t understand, Bhavya still lived her life and tried to do that happily. She knew that these friends weren’t for real, that they would go away once they reached the first crossroad, but still she felt comforted in an odd manner. Perhaps, it was the fact that there were some people, who though cannot provide comfort, can at least provide her laughter though a short-lived one. She yearned for those bouts of laughter. Her fiery ways were gone as she was too busy trying to fight with herself and to hide her real feelings from the world outside—a world in which her parents lived and lived these so-called-friends. She helped them whenever she could, even though she knew she was being used. She let it happen and to feel happiness in a true manner, turned to books like Harry Potter, which although were a bit flighty in character, nonetheless, provided her the warmth of friendship.
Time passed by and it was time for the crossroad. She was thrown in a state of confusion, whether to be happy or to feel sad. However, it seemed that Mother Nature was smiling on her and she finally got what she wanted. Her parents deciding that she had finally grown-up, allowed her what she really wanted. She got it. She was ecstatic but had really no one except her parents to share her joy with as all her so-called-friends had deserted her and had become busy with their own careers. She didn’t blame them, for partly she was happy that this was a new beginning of sorts. And it was. She made new friends— good friends, real friends—who loved her for what she was, re-discovered herself. Discovered that she could be good, that there are people who respected her and her beliefs. That made Bhavya strong. That self-esteem which had taken a beating, raised its head yet again. She learnt how to live and live happily. Came another crossroad, but this time the friends remained with her. What’s more, she found a means to re-connect to her so-called-friends.
She got a job. She met those so-called-friends through Orkut. She thought may be we can really be friends this time. She met them quite some times and thought that they can be real good friends. But guess what, Mother Nature had thought of something else this time too. She gave a good dressing down to a school mate one day on what she thought and felt was wrong. But guess what, it turned out that the guy was one of the popular ones, and now nobody can come and take her side. Those people feel embarrassed to even wish her. They feel Bhavya is wrong, they feel she should not have said so. They know she is a strong girl and would not care about what they say and may be even give them a dressing down, they have left her alone. No one to talk to. Guess, she was wrong yet again. Guess, she again chose wrong people to be friends with. Guess, all those people are wrong about her as she still cares. Stop caring, will you? Be strong as always Bhavya, there are people in this world who care for you. Stop looking for those who were never there.
These friends of hers were her lifeline. They managed to keep her alive and kicking during those difficult days. They were able to bring a genuine smile on her lips even though her heart used to cry out at all times. Although she never told them her real feelings because she knew they wouldn’t understand, Bhavya still lived her life and tried to do that happily. She knew that these friends weren’t for real, that they would go away once they reached the first crossroad, but still she felt comforted in an odd manner. Perhaps, it was the fact that there were some people, who though cannot provide comfort, can at least provide her laughter though a short-lived one. She yearned for those bouts of laughter. Her fiery ways were gone as she was too busy trying to fight with herself and to hide her real feelings from the world outside—a world in which her parents lived and lived these so-called-friends. She helped them whenever she could, even though she knew she was being used. She let it happen and to feel happiness in a true manner, turned to books like Harry Potter, which although were a bit flighty in character, nonetheless, provided her the warmth of friendship.
Time passed by and it was time for the crossroad. She was thrown in a state of confusion, whether to be happy or to feel sad. However, it seemed that Mother Nature was smiling on her and she finally got what she wanted. Her parents deciding that she had finally grown-up, allowed her what she really wanted. She got it. She was ecstatic but had really no one except her parents to share her joy with as all her so-called-friends had deserted her and had become busy with their own careers. She didn’t blame them, for partly she was happy that this was a new beginning of sorts. And it was. She made new friends— good friends, real friends—who loved her for what she was, re-discovered herself. Discovered that she could be good, that there are people who respected her and her beliefs. That made Bhavya strong. That self-esteem which had taken a beating, raised its head yet again. She learnt how to live and live happily. Came another crossroad, but this time the friends remained with her. What’s more, she found a means to re-connect to her so-called-friends.
She got a job. She met those so-called-friends through Orkut. She thought may be we can really be friends this time. She met them quite some times and thought that they can be real good friends. But guess what, Mother Nature had thought of something else this time too. She gave a good dressing down to a school mate one day on what she thought and felt was wrong. But guess what, it turned out that the guy was one of the popular ones, and now nobody can come and take her side. Those people feel embarrassed to even wish her. They feel Bhavya is wrong, they feel she should not have said so. They know she is a strong girl and would not care about what they say and may be even give them a dressing down, they have left her alone. No one to talk to. Guess, she was wrong yet again. Guess, she again chose wrong people to be friends with. Guess, all those people are wrong about her as she still cares. Stop caring, will you? Be strong as always Bhavya, there are people in this world who care for you. Stop looking for those who were never there.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
The sting
Yesterday while observing the people around me in the Metro train and looking for a story to put here, a sudden thought struck me. Considering the fact that I have been solving a lot of love-related problems over the week, I think I have become quite a pro. So yesterday I was merely thinking, what exactly is love. Pop comes the answer—it's a sting operation.
Just when your defences are on the lowest, it attacks you and that too at the most sensitive area—the heart. Just like in a sting operation, the journalist attacks a personality when his defences are at the lowest and at the most sensitive place—his fame, love does the same. The sting scars the personality's fame, love scars the heart. The heart bleeds and the fame bleeds.
One look at your face betrays the fact that you are in love; one look at the personality's face betrays that this is the bad guy. And you know that once you are in love, the news is sure going to leak—if not now, then at some other time, and you are gone. Same way, the news that you have done something wrong is going to leak any way. So an interesting comparison also crops up: LOVE=BAD GUY. And when you are a bad guy, the sting is deemed to follow.
And both—sting operation and love hurt. Both give you sleepless nights and both give you illusions of happiness. When the sting takes place, the celebrity feels happy as they have got a victim, you feel happy as you think you have found someone who may love you. But when reality dawns, life gets hell, and you go mad.
So beware, beware of the sting of love. And protect yourself.
Just when your defences are on the lowest, it attacks you and that too at the most sensitive area—the heart. Just like in a sting operation, the journalist attacks a personality when his defences are at the lowest and at the most sensitive place—his fame, love does the same. The sting scars the personality's fame, love scars the heart. The heart bleeds and the fame bleeds.
One look at your face betrays the fact that you are in love; one look at the personality's face betrays that this is the bad guy. And you know that once you are in love, the news is sure going to leak—if not now, then at some other time, and you are gone. Same way, the news that you have done something wrong is going to leak any way. So an interesting comparison also crops up: LOVE=BAD GUY. And when you are a bad guy, the sting is deemed to follow.
And both—sting operation and love hurt. Both give you sleepless nights and both give you illusions of happiness. When the sting takes place, the celebrity feels happy as they have got a victim, you feel happy as you think you have found someone who may love you. But when reality dawns, life gets hell, and you go mad.
So beware, beware of the sting of love. And protect yourself.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
The villain
Say villain and the first image that comes to the mind is:
Gabbar Singh saying, "Kitne aadmi they."
And then, Amrish Puri. "Mogambo khush hua."
Gulshan Grover. "Bad Man."
Shahrukh Khan. "K-K-K-K-Kiran" (Uff, the stutterer)
The last example is something that is very true to all love stories. Where is a love story, there is a villain. All the problems that occur in the love story are because of that villain. The vilalin will surface after the honeymoon period is over and leave behind a tale of destruction, agonies and loades of tears. (Sniff... Sniff... Pass that tissue please... The villain will leave behind a trail of trissues too.)
In Munnabhai MBBS, the villain was +(no, you guessed it wrong... it wasn't Boman Irani) Dr. Suman's love for her father.
In Page 3, it was the guy's ambition and his unscrupulous ways who were the villain.
In Darr, it was Shahrukh Khan.
In Padosan, it was Bhola's inability to sing.
Moving on to the world of books. In Romeo and Juliet, the lovers' families were the villains. In Harry Potter, it is Harry's destiny. In Othello, it was Iago who was the villain. Closer home, in Ramayana, it was Ravana who was the villain. (O a personal note though, I would rather have Ravana than three mothers-in-law.) In Devdas, it was the caste system that was the villain.
In my world, there have been several villains too. Although I have never been the protagonist of the love stories (more of the extra character), I have seen things going horribly wrong. The villains were: the physical distance between the two, the tendency to lie, libido, a troubled past, family.
Wonder who would be the villain if I am the protagonist of a love story. Hmmm hmmm hmmm. Eureka!!! I know it. It;s gonna be the devil and that's me, me, me.
A dangerous game may soon begin... (Abhishek Bachchan's dad. Oh! I love Abhishek Bachchan. Now if only I get him, I promise not to play villain.)
Gabbar Singh saying, "Kitne aadmi they."
And then, Amrish Puri. "Mogambo khush hua."
Gulshan Grover. "Bad Man."
Shahrukh Khan. "K-K-K-K-Kiran" (Uff, the stutterer)
The last example is something that is very true to all love stories. Where is a love story, there is a villain. All the problems that occur in the love story are because of that villain. The vilalin will surface after the honeymoon period is over and leave behind a tale of destruction, agonies and loades of tears. (Sniff... Sniff... Pass that tissue please... The villain will leave behind a trail of trissues too.)
In Munnabhai MBBS, the villain was +(no, you guessed it wrong... it wasn't Boman Irani) Dr. Suman's love for her father.
In Page 3, it was the guy's ambition and his unscrupulous ways who were the villain.
In Darr, it was Shahrukh Khan.
In Padosan, it was Bhola's inability to sing.
Moving on to the world of books. In Romeo and Juliet, the lovers' families were the villains. In Harry Potter, it is Harry's destiny. In Othello, it was Iago who was the villain. Closer home, in Ramayana, it was Ravana who was the villain. (O a personal note though, I would rather have Ravana than three mothers-in-law.) In Devdas, it was the caste system that was the villain.
In my world, there have been several villains too. Although I have never been the protagonist of the love stories (more of the extra character), I have seen things going horribly wrong. The villains were: the physical distance between the two, the tendency to lie, libido, a troubled past, family.
Wonder who would be the villain if I am the protagonist of a love story. Hmmm hmmm hmmm. Eureka!!! I know it. It;s gonna be the devil and that's me, me, me.
A dangerous game may soon begin... (Abhishek Bachchan's dad. Oh! I love Abhishek Bachchan. Now if only I get him, I promise not to play villain.)
Thursday, July 20, 2006
marriages made in hell
yeah, I picked this title from Today...
but the thoughts are mine... ok?
My friend Siddharth Sharma was disappointed with my first post... i see that he wants to know more abt me... well, Mr. Sharma, it isn't so easy to know so much about me in a very short span of time... U need to try harder...
Now about marriages... Marriages may be made in heaven, but they become hell on earth... oh yes, they do... There is nothing like they lived happily ever after.... That happens only in movies and let me tell you it's nothing but a bit of crap... A sucker for happy endings is telling you that... So you ought to believe me... And you better believe me... otherwise.... U know what to expect...
You start off your marriage expecting everything is gonna be hunky-dunky-enter-the Honeymoon phase- You laugh, laugh, feel happy and think now that ur love is near you everything is going to be well... You think it's cute when he asks for that towel that he left behind, you think, she's cute when she says that you do not know how to cook...
Two months later-enter-the real phase- You start arguing... You feel irritated whenever he asks for that towel, you feel insulted when she says you do not know how to cook... Hell breaks loose.... And then u have kids and your life turns into a shit... The romance goes down the drain and you end up worrying about the kids' future, their studies and their career....
After that you grow old... thats the whole story...
So, man go out and flirt... Have live-in relationships... enjoy the honeymoon period and then when the real period starts... Leave... HAVE FUN
P.S. but i would like to go through all this hell.... And why- DEVILS RESIDE IN HELL
but the thoughts are mine... ok?
My friend Siddharth Sharma was disappointed with my first post... i see that he wants to know more abt me... well, Mr. Sharma, it isn't so easy to know so much about me in a very short span of time... U need to try harder...
Now about marriages... Marriages may be made in heaven, but they become hell on earth... oh yes, they do... There is nothing like they lived happily ever after.... That happens only in movies and let me tell you it's nothing but a bit of crap... A sucker for happy endings is telling you that... So you ought to believe me... And you better believe me... otherwise.... U know what to expect...
You start off your marriage expecting everything is gonna be hunky-dunky-enter-the Honeymoon phase- You laugh, laugh, feel happy and think now that ur love is near you everything is going to be well... You think it's cute when he asks for that towel that he left behind, you think, she's cute when she says that you do not know how to cook...
Two months later-enter-the real phase- You start arguing... You feel irritated whenever he asks for that towel, you feel insulted when she says you do not know how to cook... Hell breaks loose.... And then u have kids and your life turns into a shit... The romance goes down the drain and you end up worrying about the kids' future, their studies and their career....
After that you grow old... thats the whole story...
So, man go out and flirt... Have live-in relationships... enjoy the honeymoon period and then when the real period starts... Leave... HAVE FUN
P.S. but i would like to go through all this hell.... And why- DEVILS RESIDE IN HELL
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