The renaissance of y2k9. A literary story of an author, the author who knows no grammar and sometimes he is short of words. He plays with the pen, rarely put some ink on piece of a paper. Depicting knowledge of unamiable soul without any mould on this paper seems a though job, because this author knows no grammar. Why present particle is associated with tenses and why gerunds are there before a verb. All questions are beyond the scope of writting. Writing your imagination never ponders about the mistakes because of grammar.

Writting is more of a feel rather than a verb or a tense. One who stops writting because of his poor grammer is surely suffering from paranoia. Pronounciation, spellings, hymonyms error; what these could lead to the written article.

Earlier I was bad with grammer, english usage; after coming to this hectic life , I think I am lacking in emotions too. The deteroited emotions, no persona satifaction are some of the special trait of this life. Neither I improved my grammar nor did I got some thought feelings. Thats why my blog page is of less content now a days.  I got a direction but I pray to god that this direction must not be very similar to Hwang Ho. Ups and downs, ebbs and tides, go in tandem with this life.

The evacuation of the life from writting to non writting phase in an MBA college was never in my mind. When I had nothing to do in life, I had thousands of emotions on which I could write. But now when I have lots of things to do in life, I don’t have much thought flow from my mind on which I could write another post. Just for the sake of making  a post in the blog page is not the exact meaning of a blog entry. It is something else, what is this.. this question is still penetrating in my mind.

I miss my days of writting, along with a cup of tea in winter nights. Nights of solitary confinement with hundreds of books. I am leading a misdirectional life, with lotf of subjective things to do without an objective.

Organization Behaviour ( Behavior, american spell); Marketing Management, International Trade Operations, and hell of waste things. What you want to make me.  An MBA or an agglomerated mixture of loads of shit.

Yes, Yes… I am talking about my new life, life in a B-school. 10 subjects in a trimester ( each trimester is of just 3 months ), hell of assignments, atleast 10 presentations to give, every subject have 3 papers, that are two mid terms and one final. New people, new adjustments, newer subjects. Accounts after Mechanical Engineering sounds interesting.

This gothic culture of a B school is not new, and one more thing is that that I am not making any complaints about anything. The tastiest food, the mess food, eventually in a sardonic attitude and the things which could take the nerves round is that people even don’t understand the meaning of gregarious. Use such words, class will laugh, don’t know why. I am a level below their gothicity and level up their gothicity, I urgently have to use an electric guitar for, may be, an hour to come out of this emotional trauma.

The moments of life are going very very slow, but eventually they are running and ruining the very slow time, which is abiding by. The colors under the sun misses the color of feelings and stagnations.

The ” search is on”* , the friends, maa, guitar; everything is out of the life. The wrangler style of life, the crux of life was never to sit and get absorbed in the semi permeable emotions of life.

Add: * Search is on is the name of a fictional stuff, which could hit the market very soon, I have penned down.

This gothic world has got some slow moments from me too, as I am also the new part of this gothic life of an MBA culture.  I hate being the love of this gothic world. This world loves to hate the beings who speak less and thinks more for nothing. This world only gives the memories, memories of … of …. , some silent fillers are much more than a said speech, sometimes very obviously.

Living and succeeding in this corporate world is same as learning to play guitar, and when one dwells oneself in the rock of it, it’s very hard for anyone to take out anyone from this gothic world of corporate and guitar.

The lives of leaves

the petels of sunbeans

the dirt on sleeves

The white becomes yellow

everything is dull and so silent. 

The Dull summers are giving 

some weird life full of agony

and pain. 

The mirage could be easily seen

on the charcoals of this road. 

Everything is seen with 

error of humanity

The error in humanity 

and the error of being a human. 

The Dull Summers 

with the pale in hail 

the fragrance of soil

The birds have reduced 

making chirps

Everyone is tending to go dizzy

except this sun and this sandeep. 

The Dull Summers 

making everything virtual. 

It seems somebody is standing under the tree

somebody is screaming someone’s name. 

Whiskies are changed into beers. 

Whispering is changing into screams

in this dull summers.

The feelings which makes ebbs and tides in my heart.
The feellings which makes me go fonder without you.
The feelings when I see rainbow.
The feelings when I see early morning sun.
The feelings when I see 4th day moon.
The feelings when I see the colors of holi and lights of diwali.
The feelings when I play my guitar.
The feelings which makes my soul travelling and searching.
The feelings in which I search what I intended to have.
The feelings of joys, sorrows.
The feelings of your eyes, when you blink them.
The feelings when ur lips make an upward curve.
The feelings whilst watching cricket match  and fighting over TV remote.
The feelings of you.
The feelings of your boaring TV episode.
The feelings of having pizza together.
The feeling of opening a Restro.
The feelings which never separates you from me
are always with me.
I see, I feel you roaming everywhere in my home
making some sound,
The feeling to chase the sound
leads me to solitaire.
The automn is making trees to shed all leaves,
see some leaves are even in my veranda.
Making me to remember of the past.
Every year it sheds,
Every year birds leave them.
Every year I dont stop looking at it even in automn.
Every year it regains leaves,
Every year birds come back,
Every year I dont stop looking at it even in rain.

The feeling of your hand,
when they run through your hairs.
The feeling of seeing you,
feeling is you from past few years.
The years in which I have never seen you.
The years in which I have never touched you.
The years in which you remain as an imagination.
An imagination in which you live
An imagination in which I am in love
Else where I can’t see love anywhere in the world.
I loved my feelings
I loved my feelings for an unseen lady.
The feelings in which I made pictures of my to be gal.
The feelings in which I and she fights daily,
love each other daily.
She exists in feelings.
And the feelings exist in me.

Hi,

Wishing you all a Happy Holi. My new post after 11th December 08 and today is 10th March 09 . Approx a gap of 3 months among the two consecutive posts.

Actually this life usually gives you a problem in terms of gynos. And there is an illuminated war among my head and soul and that is my head thinks that I am philogynist and soul thinks I am misogynist. It’s a state of war that every one has to take, the war between the uncertain thinking of heart and head, even Einstein did so and I am no Einstien and there is simply no rocket science available in this visionary world to come out of it.

What I did in those three long months, I read 3 books:

1) The Secret by Rhonda Bryne

2) Handbook for Writers by Lynn Quitman Troyka

3) My India, The Eternal India by Swami Vivekananda.

Other problem was that I was working in HP, and didn’t got the hell of time out of office. After office and reading books and newspapers, you can’t think of writting stuff. I tried it many times. But never came out with any good stuff so that I could publish it on my page.

Well I would try to write more and will try that “Search is on” would be completed/published in this year.  * ” Search is on ” is the name of the book, what I planned to write, a fictious stuff. I promise that book ( if released ) would not break even the records of Manorama, you might be aware of Manorama, the six Feet Under. Well, it was none of mistake of Abhay Deol in that movie, if anybody could have a wife like Gul Panag, who the hell would think of writting, I won’t dare to come out of bed, if I will get a wife like Gul Panag. Isn’t she Sexy.

Anyways, I did talked of hell of waste things in the come back post, would not make you to pull your hairs out of your head. It’s more than suffice, I guess.

Coming Back to Life  in form of Guitar, Love and Writting. 

With Regards

Sandeep Sinha

What brings on your mind, when you thought of Diwali. Ehhh, I guess some sweets, gifts, bright lights.

Ahh, Diwali is about to come and I have promised me that I won’t sit on net for any time after this Sunday, up to CAT. I am just completing all my pending work for my room, my life within 2 days. I know it’s a long time. 48 hours, isn’t it a long time? I know after a long session of Quantative Ability, one needs some rest. From 12 @ mid-night to 12 noon, solved around 750 questions and you can see my head trembling with severe headache. Still I am happy that I may eject out of the turmoil of maths on CAT day.

After this hectic session, I decided to spend all my savings to make my room livelier. So that you could easily come in my room in a reverie to make some cups of tea for me along with some good rebukes to take me further towards my books. (Remember the lines of my poems: tum padho .. shayad mai aayi .. sabko naa dungi dikhai aur kaano mein aake kahungi ki … woh aisi paagal ladki thi)

Just 10 days left for Diwali, let’s go for new wall colors. Don’t you think, selecting a wall color is the most though job for me? Yes it is the toughest job for me. First and foremost I thought to go for some kids color, as I am a kid. Then I though that I have to at least act like an adult in this world, where some one believes that I am a kid, hey, mind it, I have stopped watching Cartoon Network and Pogo.

Then finally I planned to go for multi colored wall, you know one color would be green in any case. My room has three walls and on one side I only have wardrobes, with a long collection of some old clothes, I haven’t done some shopping from past 6- 7 months.   On one side of wall, I am using brown and grey combination, it will look sober. Bhaiyaji is doing this right now and I am writing this post.

And I am planning to use clove red and leaf green colors on two sides. One is a shade of my fav color and one is shade of someone’s fav color. I will post up the pics of my room after the CAT day or maybe I may come online for few moments, if I would get some time, after the color application.

Yaaro jashn hai yeh zindagi. New color in my room, blessings from some one special and 12 hours continuous sessions of study, where would destiny take me. At least, I won’t say this year that I should have studied for few more hours, I am doing all, whatever I couldn’t even thought of, and to add something, I do not switch on my music player while studying now a days.

I listen to most hilarious song on music player, on a tea break and that song is, no reward for guessing the most hilarious song from the movie OSO, that’s none other than Dhoom Tana. Hahaha.  My fridge will start occupying lots of Ladoos and Burfis in just few days and some fruit bears and the chilling Limca, Yes limca is my fav soft drink. But I am thinking, will I enjoy all this alone.

Why not? Hallo, I am not all alone. Mehtab would be coming just after diwali for combined studies, and we guys would simply gonna rock this year. Just hold your nerves tight and pray for us.

And my biggest challenge is me. I have to work up to my standards.

This side of wall is looking great. Hope you guys could also see this. Don’t worry, pics would be uploaded very soon, and I am leaving to have a laddoo. Would you like to have one?

I pledge:

* I won’t use crackers this year

 * won’t gamble even a single penny, (coz I dont have any) even tough I will win. This line is not from the book of Shiv Khera, you could win. I hardly read self help book.

Thanks to you, for your 24 hours assistance in all aspects of life, and helping me to take me from adolescence to a… don’t know to what.

With lots of happiness and bliss,

Happy Diwali to my reader, and readers.

Love you.

Signing off till 16th November 2008.

Miss me but not toooooo much. I will be back, else where I could go.

मिली मुझे एक परी
थोडी घुली थोडी मिली
मुझको थी प्यारी बड़ी
फिर जाने वोह कहा चली
धुंडा उसको गली गली

3 साल बाद फिर मिली
थोडी घुली थोडी मिली
प्यारी है मुझको बड़ी
एक दिन मुझ से बोली
कौन हु मै ?
क्यों हु तुझको प्यारी बड़ी …

मै बस ये ही बोला 
…….
…..
…….

खामोशी की भी है एक जुबान
जो मुझसे कुछ न बुलवाए
बस फिर भी दिल यही चाहे की
काश परी कभी ज़मीन पर भी उतर आये
और आस पास से गुजर जाए
महका जाए मेरे छोटे से संसार को
जिसमें आंधी से भी उड़ कर
तेरी खुशबु नहीं आती
तेरा एहसास जो मेरी बातों में
मेरी रातो में
सुअगातो में
अनजान रास्तो में
उसमें से निकलने की चाहतो में
दरिया में डूब जाने को
उनकी सीपियों में से
तुझे निकलने का
बादलो में
बादलो की हवायो में
तेरी गूंजती आवाज़ है
आवाज़ बुलाती है मुझको
ना जाने कहा
बनाया मुझको वन का हिरन
धुन्धू तुझको बादलो में
सीपियों में सागरों में
अब तो हवा में भी तेरी ही धुन सुनु
और तू मुझसे पूछ जाए
की मै कौन हु ??

सर्दी की रातो में जब भी खिड़की खोलू
तुझे अपनी bike पर बैठा पायु

मेरा कोई दोस्त नहीं इस जहां में
जो मुझको समझ पाए
रातो की हवायों में
तू bike से हाथ हिलाए
और पढने की गुहार लगाये
और कभी सोते वक़्त मुझको लोरी सुनाने आये
चम्पी भी अच्छी सी कर के जाए
ज़िन्दगी के नए राह दिखाए
और फिर भी मुझसे कभी पूछ बैठे
कौन हु मै ??

गर्मी की जलती धुप में
मुझे लस्सी पिलाये
थोडा बतियाये , सुस्ताये
और शाम को
अपने घर के पोधों में
तुझको पानी डालता देखू  
और वहा से जो मिटटी की सौंधी खुशबु आये
मुझे वोह तेरी याद दिलाये

तेरी बारिश शुरू होती है
जिसमें सब गिला गिला है
आंसू नहीं है, यह तो एक ख़ुशी है
की तेरी बारिश आई है
बारिश में भीगती
scooty चलाती सडको पर नज़र आये

वहा से इशारे से बोले
कही छुप जायो
बारिश तेज़ है
मै तो परी हु
मेरा क्या .. ना जाने मै कौन हु ??

छुप जायु तो तू मेरे बगल में आके खड़ी हो जाए
और मेरे छिकने पर खूब हसे
और फिर बोले कौन हु मै ??

मै फिर कुछ ना बोल पायु
हलके से हसू, मुस्करायु
और रात की तन्हाई में
भी कभी आँख बंद करने के बाद
तुझको यह बत्लायु
की प्रतिबिम्ब को कोई क्या बताये
की कौन है तू ???

Hai liye apni hi Bakar, dushman taak me baitha udhar!
Aur hum taiyar hai KINNOO apna liye idhar!!
Bakar se khelenge holi gar Mudita mushkil me hai!
BakFaroshi ki tammanna aab hamare dil me hai!!
Chehre jinme ho junoon nahi roke kisi ke rokne se!
din mein thake hum,to raat raat jaag ke lage bakar mein hain
Aur bhadkega jo josh hamare dil me hai!
BakFaroshi ki tammanna aab hamare dil me hai!!
Hum to ghar se nikle hi the padhne le daakhila!
raastein mein hi kurbaan ho gaya bakar par
shabd to apne mehaman, bakar ke mehafil me hai!
Bakfaroshi ki tammanna aab hamare dil me hai!!
Jahan diye UP jaise bakar, LAV kiye inklaab hain
Chaurasia , Daksh aaye, dekho yeh bakar-e-junnon mein hain
shabd kaate, gaane tode, angrezi inki jeb mein hain
bakfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hain
vicky lsey basu motu bheje baahar,
kehte sab dharm, desh bakar ke hisse mein hain;
kyun chhod de unko bhi, jo hamare apne hain;
Bakfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamare dil mein hain

Dedicated to NC hostellers … 2007 Batch …

Happy Bakar Bakar … along with chai, sutta and daaru ….

anth kaha hai ???
mai chala
tu bhi chal
basta mera hai
tera bhi hai
banjara mai bhi nahi
tu bhi nahi
awaara mai bhi nahi
tu bhi nahi
dukh mujhe to hota hai
shayad tujhe nahi
raaste dekh wahi hai
ek sidhi si pagdandi hai
tu bhi chali thi
mai bhi chala tha
tujhe aaj kahi aur jaana hai
aur mera bhi kaha koi thikana hai
is mod se us mod tak aana hai
par chakkar to saara yaha hai
ki mod kaha hai
anth kaha hai …
raasta khatam kaha hai
meri manzil isi raah par hai
par naa jaane kaha hai
chalte chalte mile agar tujhe kabhi
to bata dena mere hamsafar
aage ki manzile ham teh nahi karenge
kyuki meri manzil to tumhe hi dhundhi thi
aur tumne dhundh li hai
to fir us manzil ka anth kaha hai …
naa to aadi hai
naa to anaadi hai
naa to anth hai
naa to shuruwaat hai
naa hi mod hai
naa hi tod hai
naa tu mujhe chode hai
naa mai tujhe chod saku hu
naa tu jine de hai
naa mai jee saku hu
naa tu mai hu
naa mai tu hu
naa mai mai hu
naa tu tu hai
tu mai
mai tu
naa jaane kaha hai
naa jaane kaun hai
naa jaane kab aaye
naa jaane
anth kaha hai …
tu mera anth hai
ya mai tera anth hu
tu kuch nahi hai
tu bas ek khawab hai
jisko dekha nahi hai
tu woh gaana hai
jisko gaaya nahi hai
tu manzil hai
jisko paaya nahi hai
tu bheeshan aasmaan hai
mai registaan mein khila
ek fool hu
baarish nahi hai
fir bhi khil gaya hu
tu .. tu hai ..
jo aaj tak dikhi nahi ..
mili nahi …
sochi nahi …
samjhi nahi …
naa jaane fir bhi mai tu kyu hu
aur naa jaane anth kaha hai
mujhe bhi pata hai
padne wala yahi soch raha hai
ki anth kaha hai
yeh kahani anth heen hai
naa koi anth hai
naa koi basant hai
bas ek tapti hui garmi hai
garmi mein chilmilati dhoop hai
dhoop mein raaste
chuandhiya gaye hai suraj se
bikhla uthi hai dharti
ho chuka hai hahakaar
par anth kaha hai
tu wahi hai jisne diye the dastak
is sune jahaan mein
par darwaza khola
to tu kaun hai ..
aur ….
tera anth kaha hai …

Sometimes memories are so tangible that you can almost touch them. At other times memories stay like a blur somewhere in the recesses of your mind. Yet they are safe. Safe from prying eyes, safe from vagaries of time, safe from you and me, indeed…..

चलो चलो तुम चाल चलो 
इस दुनिया में शतरंज ऐसे ही खेली जाती है  
काले और सफ़ेद घरो में 
अपने कदमो के निशान रखो 
चलो चलो तुम चाल चलो 

एक वजीर मेरा 
एक सिपाही तेरा 
दोनों रहे ना रहे 
शतरंज की बिसात फिर बिछेगी 
फिर खेलेंगे दो लोग  ..
हारेगा एक और 
जीतेंगे मोहरे अनेक  …

चलो चलो तुम चाल चलो 
आज यह शतरंज रास ना आता है
वही सफ़ेद और काले घर फिर से दौडाते है
खेल खेल की तरह चलता
गर 
तो जीत जाते प्यादे भी वजीर से
घोडे जब दौड़ते सफ़ेद से काले
और काले से सफ़ेद खानों में
तो एक नया खेल होता
जिसमें रोमांच होता
एक मकसद होता
एक जीत की लालसा होती
चलो चलो तुम चाल चलो
यह शतरंज ऐसे ही खेली जाती है
सफ़ेद और काले 
काले और सफ़ेद यही
ज़िन्दगी बन जाती है
ज़िन्दगी के रंग जब सिर्फ
सफ़ेद और काले लगे
तब फिर से बिछती है एक बिसात
खिलाडी होते है दो
एक मैं और दूसरा मेरा प्रतिबिम्ब ….
ज़िन्दगी के रंग जब होते है अनेक
लाल पीले गुलाबी हरे
तो एक एहसास होता है
देख आ के ध्यान से
मेरे उस बिसात के घर में
उन काले और सफ़ेद घरो में
वोह तेरे होली के
लाल पीले गुलाबी हरे
गुलाल के रंग आज भी छप गए है
अब मेरी शतरंज में रंग है अनेक

चलता हूँ आज भी चाल
चलो चलो तुम भी चलो …
यह शतरंज ऐसे ही खेली जाती है

 पहली हिंदी कहानी ..
 जो लिखी नहीं ..
 किसी ने हाथ पकड़ कर लिखवाई …
किरदारों को नहीं जानता हू मैं..
शब्द भी उसके बोल भी उसके….
मैं तो निमित मात्र कलम चलाता गया
चलाता गया …
चलाती रही उसकी कहानी
थोडी सयानी और थोडी सी मनमानी
एक सपने जैसी ही थी वोह कहानी
जिस में ना था कोई  राजा और ना कोई रानी …

पन्ने दर पन्ने
साल दर साल
स्याही में गुम
एक वोह तेरा किरदार
और एक  ये कलाकार
कोई भी तेरी कहानी समझ ना आई
ना तो समझ आये वोह तेरे किरदार

थक कर चूर आये ही थे काम से
की तेरे किस्से कहानी शुरू
भूलने गए हम तेरे किरदार रोज़ ….
पर तुने रोज़ हाथ पकड़ कर
बैठा कर फिर से उनकी याद दिलाई …

मेरी कहानी में तू
या यह कहू की
तेरी कहानी में मैं
पर यह कहने की इजाजत नहीं
तेरी कहानी तेरे किरदार
मैं तो बस वही एक निमित मात्र
कलम, कागज़, और स्याही.

पन्ने कई फटे
कलम कई पिटी
स्याही आज भी ख़तम हो जाती है
पर अमर रहता है
तेरे मेरे दिल में एक वोह किरदार  …..

एक रोज़ किरदार दिखा मुझे तेरा
सडको पर घूमता हुआ
उसके माथे पर तेरे उँगलियों के निशाँ भी दिखे
पसीने के साथ हलके हो गए थे ज़रा

उसका विश्वास आज भी वैसे का वैसा अडिग
सालो पहले हुई थी तेरे उस किरदार से भी बात
आज मुलाक़ात भी हुई
कहानी बहुत मुश्किल थी
किरदार भी एक
मंजिल भी एक
रास्ते अनेक …

कहानी किस्से तो यूं ही चलते रहते है
कलाकार ही किरदार को
अमर बनाता है
और एक वही उसको मारता है …

पर मैं तेरे किरदार को
कुछ कहा कह सकता था
क्युकी कहानी तेरी किरदार तेरा ….
मैं आज भी बस यही उसी शहर
में घूमता हुआ, मुस्कुराता हुआ …
कभी कभी बिना कागज़, कलम और स्याही के..
लिखता रहता हू
तेरी कहानी
जिसमें एक किरदार तेरा
एक अंहकार मेरा
एक जीत तेरी
और मेरी हार में हाहाकार …
कभी यू ही बात चलती रहे
जीता रहे एक वोह तेरा किरदार
और एक मेरा कहानीकार ….

With the hue and cry,

all emotions all dry.

The silence of nights,

all ruin up in pang and toils.

Carbon is all what we need,

some in form of diamond,

and some in graphite,

Graphite is elite.

The day is full of sunlight,

a man walking on the river side

is somewhat like me

all surrounded by water and exile.

I love rain, I love the emotions thy,

all surrounded by the salty water coming out of my eye.

I miss my life, my world, my sky.

T0 hail emotions is just a crime.

Sue a case against me

for loving you whole day and night,

with some deeds in my soul

for all life without any guilt and shame.

All I can do is to write,

can’t get you the surprises of life,

even though my love for you is never a defile.

The profanity is even in a dead soil,

the emotions all ready to devastate

my soul and my heart together

to make me a man of dead thoughts

and a shameless antisocial insane.

The bed tea is on the table with newspaper over my quilt. I am fully traped and packed in quilt. Its 9:30 A.M, I am still lying on the bed, tea turned up in iced tea, because of the sheer cold winds. I am out of the sleep, but not out of the dream. I got the severe irritation while sleeping because of my dream, and after that I am lying on my bed in the same position from past 4 hours and not in any mood to read the newspaper and not even in mood to take my bedtea. Thinking, pondering again and again for that silly thing, and time machine is running like the torment, causing problems and only problems.

Its now 11:30, everything is at the same stage as it was 2 hour before. Quilt, tea, newspaper and me everything was static in the room and the only dynamic thing was the minute and hour hand of the time machine, running alone in a marathon from past thousands of years in the same manner, even though not finished the race yet. My eyes were wide open and inside quilt everything was dark and black. The dream was a misconduct of all pathetic emotions out of soul, a true jeopardy for the life and the emotions were all conquered by the frightedness.

The silence of the room was all distubed by the stupid fone and it created lot of hullabaloo in the silent arena after the dream. I didnt dared to pick the fone and finally got some courage to pick it up, after 4 consecutive rings.

” Hello ! ” I said in a very cynical tone.

” Get ready and come soon. ” A voice, somewhat known.

” Who the hell is this and why you want me to come and where ?” and I switched off the fone back.

And this is the story of today morning and I decided to yell that dreams are just dreams and they don’t have anything to do with the real life. The worse dreams are not true.

With few yawns yesterday night, I slept arround 2 AM and soonly or lately I recognised myself as the member of National Geographic Channel, and working in Egypt on some project. With my team mates as my freinds, one of my good freind ”ABCD” was even working in the project and I decided to tell her on this Valentine’s day, how much I love her, and I was about to say something, but she killed me and I am all covered with blood and on verge of death, with some final breathes.

She came near me and said, ” I killed you, because you killed me few years back, in the very same manner, that is by hitting a hammer on head. Dont get confused, I am not talking of this life. You killed me like this in past life, when you was king and I was a common poor girl of the town. You was in love with me and saw me with your soldier, and did’nt accepted ours love and assissinated us. “

The very last words of me were,” Well, I was not in love with you, I am still in love with you and this is the time I am leaving the world and wish you all luck for the future and I guess that soldier is yours current boy freind. But, I will come back soon and I believe in REINCARNATION and my love for you is not for a day or two. If not possible in this life, then no problem for me I will be back.”

The dream was drastic and the impact put me in solitary confinement. I am speechless from morning and the call I recived was of a very known but still I can’t properly recognise the name of the caller. Might be he was that soldier. Whoever he was, but the dreams in mornings are somewhat real and they usually happen to you in life.

14th Feb … A day designated for the lovers,a Oxymoron statement I think. When one is in love, then S/he will not seek for any day, as called the day for love birds.( The Valentine’s Day )

Let me validate the day for loving your partner, the best time to love him/her in a year, starts from 1st jan to 31st Dec of the same year. All days are same for me, and valentine’s day is simply beyond of my thinking and there is no paranormal justification for the day, that you have to love your cupid on the particular day. I work 24*7 and love her in a juxtapostion, and believe me if I stop doing so, I may not be able to write more.

I think Love knows no season, no reason, no comparison, no elison. Just flow with it, like a ubiquitious imagination, pander the emotions in the panorama. Fly with it, live with it, dream with it.

But let me do a formallity, by saying Happy Valentine’s Day. But believe me my life is a monotone, which utterly need your presence as soon as it could be, in my world of love and thats what I will call the Impeccable Valentine.