<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974</id><updated>2011-11-28T05:26:36.586+05:30</updated><category term='meaningful cinema'/><title type='text'>Revelation</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>31</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-2271314318784280656</id><published>2008-05-30T01:27:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2008-07-06T10:59:06.515+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Alice in Wonderland</title><content type='html'>I am at the moment sitting in my hotel room in Paddington. It is 8: 48 pm and full day light. The last few days in London have been just amazing. All by myself, I have been, I don't want to use the word roaming, but yes literally I have been doing that on the streets of London. Courtesy myself:) and the brilliant bus service of London, I know almost every street of Central London. I decided to carry the map and find places worth seeing on my own and boy! I found Hyde Park, Madame Taussads, Selfriges, Hamleys, Harrods and Leicester Square. Also, the first day, when I reached London, I took the Heathrow Express and it took me to Paddington in 15 minutes. I think it is the fastest train service. Even if not, it is like a genie for me that would now take me directly to the Airport. I just love the transport system of UK. And....also.... I am very pleased with myself:), have given a pat on my back and also given myself an 'A' for good direction sense. On the third day of my trip, I took a sight seeing tour. Saw everything I had always wanted to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, enough, back to work. So, tube from Paddington to Kings Cross and the Capital Connect from Kings cross to Letchworth. Courtesy Letworth, I have seen the beautiful countryside of the UK. Totally disconnected from everything, being all alone in all together different world is something I am quite relishing:):). I feel like my mum, my lovely mum, when I am travelling back on the tube. I am thinking about what to have/buy for dinner. Another pastime is searching for Indian restaurants. Yesterday, found one and honestly, have never been so happy to see vegetable biryani:). Well, I have also realised that I have buckets of stamina. I walk, I don't know how many miles, with my laptop, everyday; and at the end of the day, I am not tired.&lt;br /&gt;and I am eating all kinds of junk these days and I don't know if the scales in my room are right, if yes, then, I have gained weight.....I am not me!. I told this to my sis, she refuted my claim of having gained 5 kg.....her very obvious retort was... this is not possible, atleast not for you:(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pardon me, if this looks like I am on a self praising spree:) I am just innocently pleased. See, I am usually a very modest person:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-2271314318784280656?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/2271314318784280656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=2271314318784280656' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/2271314318784280656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/2271314318784280656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2008/05/alice-in-wonderland.html' title='Alice in Wonderland'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-8998415633183562991</id><published>2008-05-07T22:28:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2008-05-07T22:47:53.230+05:30</updated><title type='text'>fascinations</title><content type='html'>I was at the Embassy yesterday, waiting to get my visa. There, I saw an old couple. The gentleman was quiet and patient. His wife was very active and totally in command. She was handling everything from the file of documents to the sacred book of the Sikhs. When they were called, she started giving instructions to her husband on how to go about the biometrics. She helped him in getting up, gathered him and took him to the counter, again repeating the instructions. I suppressed my smile. I wrote a few lines (what to do, old couples always fascinate me); here they are......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw us yesterday,&lt;br /&gt;In that old couple,&lt;br /&gt;You were calm but somewhat tired,&lt;br /&gt;I asked, how you were,&lt;br /&gt;You were silent, did not answer&lt;br /&gt;I asked, how’s life,&lt;br /&gt;You looked into my eyes but did not answer&lt;br /&gt;I said you are now old,&lt;br /&gt;you laughed and retorted…you are older:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-8998415633183562991?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/8998415633183562991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=8998415633183562991' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/8998415633183562991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/8998415633183562991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2008/05/fascinations.html' title='fascinations'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-5494695479526205855</id><published>2008-04-14T10:30:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-04-14T10:56:01.269+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meaningful cinema'/><title type='text'>Dharm</title><content type='html'>Saw this movie. It's outstanding and beautiful....flows like a stream, calm and serene. Dharm touches and teaches you the three most important apects in life;  the power of tolerance, the ability to stand by your words/values and most important, the religion of humanity.&lt;br /&gt;A must watch!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-5494695479526205855?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/5494695479526205855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=5494695479526205855' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/5494695479526205855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/5494695479526205855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2008/04/dharm.html' title='Dharm'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-4903561172642407379</id><published>2008-03-26T22:00:00.007+05:30</published><updated>2008-04-14T11:07:13.839+05:30</updated><title type='text'>जीवन क्या है, चलता फिरता इक खिलौना है</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=""&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;Th&lt;/span&gt;i&lt;/span&gt;s &lt;/span&gt;i&lt;/span&gt;s &lt;/span&gt;a beautiful ghazal by Jagjit Singh. I was listening to it and thought of posting it here...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;जीवन क्या है, &lt;span class=""&gt;चलता &lt;/span&gt;फिरता, इक खिलौना है,&lt;br /&gt;दो आँखों में, इक से हँसना, इक से रोना है&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;चलते &lt;span class=""&gt;चलते राह &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;में यूँहीं, रास्ता मुड़ जाता &lt;span class=""&gt;है,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;जाने में, अनजाने से, रिश्ता जुड़ जाता है&lt;br /&gt;किसे पता है, किस रास्ते में, कब क्या होना &lt;span class=""&gt;है,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;जीवन क्या है, चलता फिरता, &lt;span class=""&gt;इक &lt;span class=""&gt;खिलौना है&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;है &lt;/span&gt;बीत गया जो, वह ही हर पल, आगे क्यों &lt;span class=""&gt;चलता है&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;राख हुए&lt;/span&gt; अंगारे कबके, फिर भी दिल जलता है&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;भूली भिसरी&lt;/span&gt; यादों को, अश्कों से धोना &lt;span class=""&gt;है, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;जीवन &lt;/span&gt;क्या है, चलता फिरता, इक खिलौना है&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;जो जी&lt;/span&gt; चाहे, वह मिल जाए, कब ऐसा होता है&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;हर जीवन&lt;/span&gt;, जीने का, समझौता होता है&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;आज तक&lt;/span&gt; जो होता आया है, वह ही होना है&lt;br /&gt;जीवन क्या है, चलता फिरता, इक खिलौना है&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;रात अँधेरी&lt;/span&gt;, भोर सुन्हेरी, &lt;span class=""&gt;येही ज़माना &lt;/span&gt;है&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;हर चादर&lt;/span&gt; में, सुख का ताना, दुःख का &lt;span class=""&gt;बाना है&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;आती &lt;/span&gt;साँस को पाना, जाती साँस को &lt;span class=""&gt;खोना है&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;जीवन क्या है, &lt;span class=""&gt;चलता &lt;/span&gt;फिरता, इक &lt;span class=""&gt;खिलौना है&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;दो &lt;/span&gt;चेहरों से, जीना भी, कैसी मजबूरी है&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;जितना जो&lt;/span&gt; नस्दीक है उससे, उतनी दूरी है&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;फूलों &lt;/span&gt;के सपने लेकर, काँटों &lt;span class=""&gt;पर &lt;/span&gt;सोना है&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;जीवन क्या &lt;/span&gt;है, चलता फिरता, इक खिलौना है&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;परछाई &lt;/span&gt;जैसा कोई, साँसों में चलता है&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;भूली &lt;/span&gt;भिसरी यादों को, अश्कों से धोना है&lt;br /&gt;जीवन क्या है, चलता फिरता, इक खिलौना है&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-4903561172642407379?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/4903561172642407379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=4903561172642407379' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/4903561172642407379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/4903561172642407379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2008/03/blog-post.html' title='जीवन क्या है, चलता फिरता इक खिलौना है'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-7920561773666775403</id><published>2008-03-25T21:50:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2008-04-05T11:09:36.553+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Blabber</title><content type='html'>I had written this on one of my less rational days, about five months ago. At that time I had decided not to post it. This was sitting pretty as a draft and I don't think it is worth sharing. I guess, today again, the right side of the brain is overpowering the left:) and that is why you see it here:).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All the world's a stage and most of us are desperately unrehearsed.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;em&gt; Sean O'Casey&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read this quote this morning and found it so apt. Oh God, I am turning philosophical day by day:) I remember, during our tenth class farewell, a friend of mine warned me against that. She said, you have total tendencies to turn into a philosopher, refrain from that. Ten years down the line; I did not become a philosopher but see what I am writing:). Again, before my umpteen tendencies to digress from the basic story, I had rather write something less arbit. Each day, something new happens, you listen to various views, experiences and in a way relate to them too. Talking of the unrehearsed part, I think, yes, for most of the situations in life we are totally unprepared. Something hits you for the first time, you really don’t know how to react to that situation and then we do react in maybe a right or a wrong way. Here our previous experiences and social conditioning comes handy. But then if you ponder over your reactions after a certain period of time, you think that you could have handled the situation in a better way. But then, time once lost is gone….it becomes an experience and wisdom for others.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-7920561773666775403?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/7920561773666775403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=7920561773666775403' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/7920561773666775403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/7920561773666775403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2008/03/blabber.html' title='Blabber'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-4944715982047272178</id><published>2008-03-14T22:53:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2008-03-15T12:21:01.367+05:30</updated><title type='text'>pure melody!</title><content type='html'>Years back, there used to be a serial on DD, '&lt;em&gt;charitraheen&lt;/em&gt;'. I was searching for '&lt;em&gt;Sheetal, manjul, komal'&lt;/em&gt; from this serial. This song has mesmerised me for years. I found this site &lt;a href="http://www.salilda.com/tvserials.asp"&gt;http://www.salilda.com/tvserials.asp&lt;/a&gt; (The World of Salil Chaudhary). As a bonus, also found the title music of &lt;em&gt;Vividha&lt;/em&gt;!,&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;another serial based on Rabindranath Tagore's short stories and a ghazal composed by Salil Chaudhary. This site is a music mine, the more you dig, the more you get....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-4944715982047272178?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/4944715982047272178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=4944715982047272178' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/4944715982047272178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/4944715982047272178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2008/03/pure-melody.html' title='pure melody!'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-6353923656313921797</id><published>2008-03-09T22:20:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2008-03-21T22:22:49.962+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Inspiration</title><content type='html'>My father once bought a couple of paper backs on Swami Vivekananda. I must be in third or fourth grade at that time. After reading the books, I yearned for more of Swami Vivekananda's teachings. Seeing my interest, he got me a few more books. I sought those books and his writings again. They are more than just words...&lt;br /&gt;The Vivekananda Vedanta Network (&lt;a href="http://www.vivekananda.org/index2.asp"&gt;http://www.vivekananda.org/index2.asp&lt;/a&gt;) offers a host of information on Swami Vivekananda. The poems reveal an altogether different persona of the Great man, a revelation to me. 'Hold on Yet a While, Brave Heart' is my personal favourite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HOLD ON YET A WHILE, BRAVE HEART&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;(Written to H. H. The Maharaja of Khetri, Rajputana.)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the sun by the cloud is hidden a bit,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;If the welkin shows but gloom,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Still hold on yet a while, brave heart,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The victory is sure to come.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No winter was but summer came behind,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Each hollow crests the wave,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;They push each other in light and shade;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Be steady then and brave.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The duties of life are sore indeed,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And its pleasures fleeting, vain,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The goal so shadowy seems and dim,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Yet plod on through the dark, brave heart,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;With all thy might and main.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not a work will be lost, no struggle vain,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Though hopes be blighted, powers gone;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Of thy loins shall come the heirs to all,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then hold on yet a while, brave soul,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;No good is e'er undone.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though the good and the wise in life are few,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Yet theirs are the reins to lead,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The masses know but late the worth;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Heed none and gently guide.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With thee are those who see afar,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;With thee is the Lord of might,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;All blessings pour on thee, great soul,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;To thee may all come right!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Source:&lt;a href="http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Complete_Works_of_Swami_Vivekananda/Volume_4/Writings:_Poems/Hold_on_Yet_a_While%2C_Brave_Heart"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Complete_Works_of_Swami_Vivekananda/Volume_4/Writings:_Poems/Hold_on_Yet_a_While%2C_Brave_Heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-6353923656313921797?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/6353923656313921797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=6353923656313921797' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/6353923656313921797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/6353923656313921797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2008/03/inspiration.html' title='Inspiration'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-2603813450126022928</id><published>2008-03-05T22:02:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2008-03-06T22:59:50.634+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Time moves on.....</title><content type='html'>From The Bible:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To everything there is a season,&lt;br /&gt;a time for every purpose under the sun.&lt;br /&gt;A time to be born and a time to die;&lt;br /&gt;a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted;&lt;br /&gt;a time to kill and a time to heal ...&lt;br /&gt;a time to weep and a time to laugh;&lt;br /&gt;a time to mourn and a time to dance ...&lt;br /&gt;a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing;&lt;br /&gt;a time to lose and a time to seek;&lt;br /&gt;a time to rend and a time to sew;&lt;br /&gt;a time to keep silent and a time to speak;&lt;br /&gt;a time to love and a time to hate;&lt;br /&gt;a time for war and a time for peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ecclesiastes 3:1-8&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-2603813450126022928?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/2603813450126022928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=2603813450126022928' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/2603813450126022928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/2603813450126022928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2008/03/time-moves-on.html' title='Time moves on.....'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-8150738563348678962</id><published>2008-02-23T20:51:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2008-02-23T21:48:52.150+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Endings...</title><content type='html'>What I witnessed today reminded me of Alfred Lord Tennyson's poem:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Home they brought her warrior dead:&lt;br /&gt;She nor swooned, nor uttered cry:&lt;br /&gt;All her maidens, watching, said,&lt;br /&gt;'She must weep or she will die.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then they praised him, soft and low,&lt;br /&gt;Called him worthy to be loved,&lt;br /&gt;Truest friend and noblest foe;&lt;br /&gt;Yet she neither spoke nor moved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stole a maiden from her place,&lt;br /&gt;Lightly to the warrior stepped,&lt;br /&gt;Took the face-cloth from the face;&lt;br /&gt;Yet she neither moved nor wept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rose a nurse of ninety years,&lt;br /&gt;Set his child upon her knee--&lt;br /&gt;Like summer tempest came her tears--&lt;br /&gt;'Sweet my child, I live for thee.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;When we were about to leave the cremation ground, I saw three Army men, carrying a wreath and enquiring about a particular no. of funeral pyre. They had come to pay their last respects when all others had left. I looked back and saw them saluting..I couldn't help but think as to what happened to the Army punctuality.....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-8150738563348678962?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/8150738563348678962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=8150738563348678962' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/8150738563348678962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/8150738563348678962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2008/02/endings.html' title='The Endings...'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-2750104210543786842</id><published>2008-02-05T23:10:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-02-05T23:46:39.371+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Patience</title><content type='html'>&lt;table id="HB_Mail_Container" height="100%" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" width="100%" border="0" unselectable="on"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr height="100%" unselectable="on" width="100%"&gt;&lt;td id="HB_Focus_Element" valign="top" width="100%" background="" height="250" unselectable="off"&gt;Just yesterday, we were discussing about a lost virtue, if it could be called so, patience. I was at an ATM counter trying really hard to extract some money out of it. Hard, cause, the machine wouldn't work. I tried once, twice and finally with a different card but it failed to oblige. The amount of time spent on the activity is anybody's guess. While I was struggling with the machine, a policeman suddenly entered the booth. I was like monsieur, please read 'one person at a time' clearly mentioned outside. The guard followed him and in a very polite manner plainly stated the words. However, this man was in no mood to hear anyone. He started shouting that he was not supposed to stand outside and refused to budge. This, when there were no long queues . I think if he had been at the end of a queue, he would have taken out his pistol:). I guess, people like him should be provided Vantage cards...they need them:) And, I wonder if the machine survived his wrath....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr unselectable="on" hb_tag="1"&gt;&lt;td style="FONT-SIZE: 1pt" height="1" unselectable="on"&gt;&lt;div id="hotbar_promo"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-2750104210543786842?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/2750104210543786842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=2750104210543786842' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/2750104210543786842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/2750104210543786842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2008/02/patience.html' title='Patience'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-5364261578702147061</id><published>2008-01-13T16:18:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-01-14T20:59:36.444+05:30</updated><title type='text'>New Year celebrations</title><content type='html'>Spending a few hours with the denizens of the Old Age home was quite a learning experience. They exuberated liveliness, warmth and innocence. I cannot forget one of the ladies, who was literally jiving away to the dance numbers. All the time that we were there, there was not a single moment that she did not enjoy. She wanted to be clicked in all the possible poses and we obliged her. Since everyone was clicking pics with digital cameras, one of the elderly persons started to enquire about the latest models and the most recent technologies. So, my colleague started to explain photography in the most simplistic ways. The gentleman listened to him patiently and finally when he was done, he gently remarked that he himself was a photographer! Ahem, ahem....a bouncer! Then, as we were singing for them, they joined us most enthusiastically and had a quite a few interesting requests as well. One of the septuagenarians sang the most naughty bollywood numbers and he remembered the complete lyrics! This was followed by a session of shaero-shayari...again, leaving us all amazed. Then, there was a gentleman who was very warm with everybody and had a vivacious laughter. He told us that he was a young man of 82! He had been a leading advocate of his times but had become deaf due to a personal tragedy where he had lost all his kids. Nevertheless, none of us could match his spirits. When we were about to leave, he called me and gave me a ten rupee note asking me to buy some soup for myself. In the end, all of them wanted us to come back and give them the hard copies of the pics that we had clicked...that's all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-5364261578702147061?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/5364261578702147061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=5364261578702147061' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/5364261578702147061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/5364261578702147061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2008/01/new-year-celebrations.html' title='New Year celebrations'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-363787038475077855</id><published>2007-11-25T10:06:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-11-25T10:14:56.108+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Micro-entrepreneurs</title><content type='html'>I was just reading about entrepreneurs and entrepreneurship in India. Suddenly my focus shifted to the rural India where people with their positive approach, proactive thinking and enterprise are just looking for the right kind of opportunity to improve their lives. I came across a story of a woman from an orthodox Muslim family, having six children and a husband without a job. Finally, with the help of microfinance institutions, she set up her own school bag making unit. She is now earning comfortably enough to feed her six children. With the microcredit, microfinance, various non farm sector schemes, the rural women have become micro-entrepreneurs. And then I read a about a rural business school in Maharashtra. Now the women can look forward to technical training and know how on how to start and go about their project. The efforts, the spirit and the burning desire to do something, to move ahead with fervour is all that matters.&lt;br /&gt;How the old adage stands true….”where there is a will, there is a way”.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-363787038475077855?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/363787038475077855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=363787038475077855' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/363787038475077855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/363787038475077855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2007/11/micro-entrepreneurs.html' title='Micro-entrepreneurs'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-87124785005718927</id><published>2007-11-20T21:52:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-11-20T22:14:54.351+05:30</updated><title type='text'>My little Miss World</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I thought that I'll write about the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in this world. Any guesses..well that's my grandma. With her shiny emerald blue eyes and a porcelain complexion, she has always been my Miss World! I remember my friends would come to my place and always remark, yaar, your grandmom is too beautiful. Till today, she enchants me and everybody around her with her beautiful smile and lovely eyes. With her crisp voice and a leader like attitude, I always thought she would have made a great business woman. The confidence with which she speaks English is amazing and she's never ever had any formal training in the language! She's always had thousands of anecdotes that we would listen to with gleaming eyes and eager ears. Today, even with episodes of lapses of memory, with her one liners, she keeps us in splits. She has taught us so many things by simply being what she is. Her petite frame, her tiny little steps, her innocent face, her sweet talks and above all, her warmth makes her the sweetest kid of the home....We all love you grandma!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-87124785005718927?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/87124785005718927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=87124785005718927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/87124785005718927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/87124785005718927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2007/11/my-little-miss-world.html' title='My little Miss World'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-8481758446362468565</id><published>2007-10-21T19:45:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-10-21T21:52:08.211+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Dussehra</title><content type='html'>My mother asked me to come along with her to the Dussehra celebrations that had been organised in the adjacent sector. Dussehra always brought some old memories. As kids, we would go to Parade Ground in sector 17 and enjoy the fireworks. I remember watching the 'Jhankis' and can never forget the grand &lt;em&gt;Ravana.&lt;/em&gt; He used to be a small time vendor in one of the city markets but on Vijay Dashmi, sitting on a horse, having a huge frame, he would mesmerise people, me being one of them. As we grew up, the charm of Dussehra gradually started declining. It was finally reduced to Dussehra shopping. Till the last couple of years, my sister and I would go and buy something auspicious for our home. The only constant that remained was my father bringing home &lt;em&gt;jalebis&lt;/em&gt;. This time, I was literally forced by my mother saying that it'll be a good change from the routine. I agreed, can never say no to my mom. While walking towards the venue, I could see parents and their little kids moving hastily and excitedly towards the fireworks. I pointed towards them and said, Mama, see the parents and the kids, the parents have come because of their kids. She said, 'I am also with my kid'. I couldn't help but smile. I guess, no matter how much we grow, we shall always remain kids for our parents. So, finally we got a seat, amidst a pleasant crowd. The enthusiasm of kids was enchanting. The children were so elated to shake hands with Ravana. Meghnath was the most artistic, he managed to enthrall people by making a stern face and strange eyes. The little kid sitting right next to me, she must be around four, said, Didi, why does Ravana have such bad hair, doesn't he use a shampoo? Again, I could not help smiling, these kids of today, being brought up on plastic money. I guess, why does he ride a horse, where is his car, was coming next. Finally, the time came for Ravana dehan. People started standing on the chairs to catch a glimpse of the sight. There were fireworks and then the finale, effigies of Ravana, Meghdoot and Kumbhkaran, brought to ashes. An old lady, standing next to us, said, finally, its over. Ravana was a very learned man. My mother nodded her head in affirmative. Then, they both agreed in unison and said, yeah, he only made one mistake in his life. I could see the concern on their faces.&lt;br /&gt;Time to leave, but people were not ready to leave the premises. The policemen on duty were not allowing the people to go near the burnt effigies but people stood their waiting. We enquired from one of the women waiting near the last ashes, as to what was this all about. She told us that it was good to take the burnt twigs home, its auspicious. Next question, what do you do with the twigs....she had no answer, said that she herself had heard this from someone. An old policeman overheard and said that maybe it is to ward off evil spirits, but then he himself jokingly added, what about the 'bhoot' that people already have in their homes?? again a question with no answer, I guess. That lady did manage, a burnt branch from the Ravana effigies, it was much more than a twig...Some people worshipped, were bowing their heads in front of the effigies and some touched the feet of the people who had played the part of Ram, Laxman and Hanuman. At the end of the day, it's all faith, I believe. When we reached home, my father was there with his favourite garama garam jalebis. Some constants thankfully never change!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-8481758446362468565?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/8481758446362468565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=8481758446362468565' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/8481758446362468565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/8481758446362468565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2007/10/dussehra.html' title='Dussehra'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-1747415752202110591</id><published>2007-10-20T22:10:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-10-20T22:24:14.077+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Phoenix</title><content type='html'>In the streets of struggle&lt;br /&gt;he found a little shade&lt;br /&gt;Resting in that warmth&lt;br /&gt;he found some sunshine&lt;br /&gt;Rising in that beauty&lt;br /&gt;he found loads of joy&lt;br /&gt;Dancing in that happiness&lt;br /&gt;he wrote merry songs&lt;br /&gt;Singing those songs&lt;br /&gt;he found his tranquility&lt;br /&gt;In that peace&lt;br /&gt;he found the &lt;em&gt;gem of life&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-1747415752202110591?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/1747415752202110591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=1747415752202110591' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/1747415752202110591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/1747415752202110591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2007/10/phoenix.html' title='The Phoenix'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-691244440895461117</id><published>2007-08-27T22:55:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-08-27T23:27:03.050+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Spectacular</title><content type='html'>Just a few hours from now, we get to witness a spectacular event, 2007's second &lt;em&gt;total lunar eclipse.&lt;/em&gt; Unfortunately, this would not be visible in India. The &lt;em&gt;blood moon eclipse &lt;/em&gt;is going to be quite a phenomena!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://sunearth.gsfc.nasa.gov/eclipse/lunar.html"&gt;http://sunearth.gsfc.nasa.gov/eclipse/lunar.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.hermit.org/Eclipse/2007-08-28/"&gt;http://www.hermit.org/Eclipse/2007-08-28/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-691244440895461117?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/691244440895461117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=691244440895461117' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/691244440895461117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/691244440895461117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2007/08/spectacular.html' title='Spectacular'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-3771595833645675914</id><published>2007-08-20T21:52:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-08-21T21:20:08.122+05:30</updated><title type='text'>निशा</title><content type='html'>आधा चांद , भीनी चांदनी&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;तारों की हसीं दमक&lt;br /&gt;निशा की सांवली &lt;span class=""&gt;चमक&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;हलकी सी रौशनी&lt;br /&gt;गहरीं सी छाओं&lt;br /&gt;गहरी चादर&lt;br /&gt;अनसुनी सी आहट&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;डगमगाता अम्बर&lt;br /&gt;चमकता सितारा&lt;br /&gt;खूबसूरत नज़ारा&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;और&lt;br /&gt;आधा चांद&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-3771595833645675914?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/3771595833645675914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=3771595833645675914' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/3771595833645675914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/3771595833645675914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2007/08/blog-post.html' title='निशा'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-6793242453557646340</id><published>2007-08-04T21:53:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-08-04T22:59:58.356+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Que Sera Sera</title><content type='html'>It was my uncle's retirement party today. I was thinking how does the word 'retire' feel. Everybody plans for the future, short term plans.....long term plans.....each one of us has a vision for his/her future.....the one scary thought that I usually have.....is will I be what I have promised myself to be?? As the clock ticks on......the reality strikes.....time is less and there is so much to do...&lt;br /&gt;Okay....so you have planned this and that for yourself, you think a lot about it, charter a program for yourself, talk about it daily to your own very self, take a few steps in that direction...... and then suddenly a wave comes in, a wave of calmness, serenity......you tend to go with that, take some rest, your plans could wait for sometime, you think this tide may not be there tomorrow.......let me relish the moment...and then again.........lightening strikes, you get up from your sweet slumber, prepared to fight...prepared to win.......one little achievement in the direction of your dreams, one little accomplishment.....tells you that you are going the right way..........but again......time is less and there is so much to do and loads to learn..........in the words of Robert Frost 'The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep'&lt;br /&gt;Talking of my Uncle's party, the satisfaction that I saw on his face, the family love that surrounded him, the entire ambience was teething with joy, contentment and the most important ingredient in life, love. When his son surprised him with a bouquet, he was so elated, his eyes were beeming with happiness, and I do not remember seeing him as happy as he was today.&lt;br /&gt;I guess, fulfilling your dreams and aspirations, seeing your children act like as if they were your parents, your spouse standing by your side,   saying adieu could be a wonderful feeling. This is what my uncle taught me today. All I can think, at this moment is.... &lt;em&gt;zindagi rocks&lt;/em&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-6793242453557646340?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/6793242453557646340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=6793242453557646340' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/6793242453557646340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/6793242453557646340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2007/08/it-was-my-uncles-retirement-party-today.html' title='Que Sera Sera'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-3578436665769909720</id><published>2007-07-21T14:13:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-07-24T12:48:59.254+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Francais</title><content type='html'>Apart from my usual city trips on weekends, I have found a new hobby to keep myself busy....started learning a new language..French. It's been a month now and the three hour sessions on Sats and Sundays are turning out to be great.....it's something I look forward to during my weekdays. It's not that I loathed weekends.. like every other person, I love the holidays. Anyways, talking of my French classes.....the first day appeared like my first day in the Univ....new faces and intro. I was amazed to see this lady who was making an effort to come from Barnala every weekend and she had no relatives with whom she could put up in Chandigarh. So, she stays in some PG for two days. Wow! then there were many teenagers..infact there are about ten of them in my batch.....so eager to prove themselves and hilariously naughty. Thankfully, there are some like me...20 somethings, working..... and trying to learn something new.....and I bet French is an interesting language.&lt;br /&gt;It's been quite sometime now and I can understand a bit...mind you..a bit of French ...although there is this problem with the 'ecoutez'...its difficult to understand when French people talk..so when we hear the original French tapes....sometimes you feel lost....I think can't they speak slowly? but then why would that French monsieur and madame listen to me..at home with the French CD's that I have, I have to hear them atleast four to five times to make out their conversation...phew...but I guess...am improving:)&lt;br /&gt;We also had a test...I got 35/40....not tooo bad.....again lost marks in the ecoutez.....that madame in the tape was calling herself 25 and what I heard in that entire conversation was something like 60....she would kill me for that!&lt;br /&gt;When I am in the class, I feel as if I am in my fifth standard again......btw...when we were giving the test..our teacher made it a point to space out everybody in a manner so that nobody could cheat...this teenager adjacent to me asked me to show him a few answers...before the test he had asked everybody around him if they had prepared well for the test.....kinda funny....like an examination hall situation, acting like a student, I showed him a few pages. I wonder if he could see the answers from the distance that he was at....and my madame saw me doing that...&lt;br /&gt;All the people are really cute....and the first day when I told that I was a scientist...I could see a few raised eyebrows...one of the girls said you don't look like a scientist.....I wonder what these kids think of people who study Science....she was quick to add..you look like a college student....a compliment...I guess...compliments like these make you happy. Then as the days are passing by, we are all trying to converse in French...it's all in tatters...we all speak very bad French....accent is pathetic....but there is this one person who has learnt French earlier and this class is a kinda refresher course for him.....he speaks mast French...and we all are in awe of him. The day of our test, we requested our teacher to make him sit in the centre of the class!! but she DID NOT agree....poor us!&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I saw a movie which had a few French dialogues in it.....and I could understand them.....me happy.....atleast all these days have paid off...&lt;br /&gt;So, Tchao for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-3578436665769909720?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/3578436665769909720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=3578436665769909720' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/3578436665769909720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/3578436665769909720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2007/07/apart-from-my-usual-city-trips-on.html' title='Francais'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-1008962166234524782</id><published>2007-06-09T23:38:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-06-09T23:39:37.801+05:30</updated><title type='text'>one a penny</title><content type='html'>Today, as I was browsing through the city markets, I saw a small kid, a 5 year old child sitting alongside a weighing machine. I thought 'let me get my weight checked' . There was a lady, with her daughter in tow,  who was standing on the weighing machine. Both the mother and daughter had a view of their mass into gravity values. and......when the kid asked for two bucks, the lady said that the weighing machine was incorrect, the scales were wrong. The little child, I was amazed to see, tried to adjust the needle of this instrument, brought it to the zero mark and asked the lady to try the machine again. Her daughter pleaded her mother to pay the child. But that female refused to pay the money....two rupees to be precise and just trotted off. &lt;br /&gt;I stood on the machine.....I think the weight was accurate....its been the same for years. Hope to gain some weight someday! Anyways before I digress from the story, I paid the child two bucks, he wanted to pay me back 'one penny'. When I said, never mind, the smile that I saw on his face was incomparable to anything else. I thought what would that little child do with one extra rupree,,,,,but more important what would that affluent looking lady do with that 'one penny'. It is difficult fo me to understand.I suppose it's quite an ardent task to understand or justify this kind of ridiculous and obnoxious behaviour.&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure this lady wouldn't mind paying 50 bucks for a coffee in a coffee shop. Maybe she was saving for the same!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-1008962166234524782?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/1008962166234524782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=1008962166234524782' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/1008962166234524782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/1008962166234524782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2007/06/one-penny.html' title='one a penny'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-847960072922863216</id><published>2007-06-05T23:04:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-06-05T23:43:47.760+05:30</updated><title type='text'>an old aquaintance</title><content type='html'>This weekend I was on my usual city darshan spree. Walking with the evening breeze is a soothing experience in the North Indian summer courtesy proximity of Chandigarh to the hills. My favourite is the city lake where I tend to go again and again, am never tired of the waters. People walking, jogging, just rushing past you...somehow all this kind of fascinates me. I saw a very old couple there, must be in their late 70's walking hand in hand. They looked beautiful and I could not get my eyes off them. The old gentleman just like any other teenager bought something to eat for his lady. I thought that I had seen them somewhere before.... kept thinking about them. While driving my way back home, their charming faces kept coming back to me. Thankfully, my neurons didn't let me down! I had spotted them about ten years back, when I was a school going kid and had gone for a haircut to a salon. This septuagenarian had accompanied the lady to the parlour. She also had a haircut (much better than mine!), her husband looked at her admiringly and said that she looked good with the new hairstyle. At that time, I thought what a hep couple....this time i said.....what a blessed couple. May God bless them! Amen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-847960072922863216?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/847960072922863216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=847960072922863216' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/847960072922863216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/847960072922863216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2007/06/old-aquaintance.html' title='an old aquaintance'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-4139098931728201935</id><published>2007-05-24T20:24:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-05-24T22:06:40.690+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Life in a.....Metro</title><content type='html'>Metro is a nice movie....a reflection of todays times. Its been a week since I watched Metro and the one person that straightaway comes to my mind is Irrfan Khan. He manages to make you laugh, smile and you are forced to fall in love with him! Kay Kay Menon also leaves an impact in his own way. He belongs to the detest him types....the personality I suppose you would never like to meet in your 'one life' but then you keep on bumping into such characters. If you haven't seen this movie, watch it for Konkona-Irrfan. They are in simple words...sweet! And yes, I'm sure by now, everyone must have relished &lt;em&gt;Metro's&lt;/em&gt; soulful music.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-4139098931728201935?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/4139098931728201935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=4139098931728201935' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/4139098931728201935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/4139098931728201935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2007/05/life-in-ametro.html' title='Life in a.....Metro'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-3594027022920471001</id><published>2007-05-05T15:33:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-05-05T15:48:28.456+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The good old videos</title><content type='html'>Ek anek and Mil sur mera tumhara videos are for my friends born in the 80's. As a kid, I used to enjoy them a lot and till date, these simple videos have a charisma of their own. Watching them brought a smile to my face..ah the days of innocence! I miss them!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-3594027022920471001?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/3594027022920471001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=3594027022920471001' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/3594027022920471001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/3594027022920471001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2007/05/good-old-videos.html' title='The good old videos'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-2919237388663722137</id><published>2007-05-04T22:06:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-05-04T23:49:41.141+05:30</updated><title type='text'>धूप</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;धूप की बारिश में हम घर को चले&lt;br /&gt;मीठे पानी की खूबसूरती को चख कर &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;चले&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;धूप ने कहा तुम तो छिपते फिरते थे हमसे&lt;br /&gt;आज हमारे आगन में कैसे दिखायी दिये&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;भोली धूप को समझाया हमने&lt;br /&gt;तुम तो हमारी अज़ीज़ हो&lt;br /&gt;तुम तो हमारे साथ चलती हो&lt;br /&gt;भाव तो उसे देते हैं&lt;br /&gt;जो मेहमान हो&lt;br /&gt;तुम तो जिन्दगी भर का साथ हो&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;यह सुन कर धूप मुस्करायी&lt;br /&gt;बारिश की बूंदों भी झिल्मिलायी&lt;br /&gt;इन्द्रधनुषी आसमान हुआ&lt;br /&gt;रंगो का समां बना&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;और हमारा क्या&lt;br /&gt;हम तोह अपने घर को चले&lt;br /&gt;धूप और बारिश दोनो को संग ले चले&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-2919237388663722137?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/2919237388663722137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=2919237388663722137' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/2919237388663722137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/2919237388663722137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2007/05/blog-post.html' title='धूप'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-6198290873515869156</id><published>2007-04-29T22:47:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-29T23:45:38.444+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Timeless beauty</title><content type='html'>Beautiful sunset and the morning glory&lt;br /&gt;the two sides of an eternal story&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the sun sets, night transcends&lt;br /&gt;peace prevails, time to rest&lt;br /&gt;birds, animals, plants asleep&lt;br /&gt;pristine creatures, so much at ease&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the next morning, when the sun rises&lt;br /&gt;wraps in its beauty, the wordly wise&lt;br /&gt;the aroma of flowers, the aura above&lt;br /&gt;tranquility and calmness abound&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is beauty, eternal bliss&lt;br /&gt;soothes the mind, strengthens the soul&lt;br /&gt;if only we have time to spare&lt;br /&gt;the ethereal Nature, has everything to share.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-6198290873515869156?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/6198290873515869156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=6198290873515869156' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/6198290873515869156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/6198290873515869156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2007/04/timeless-beauty.html' title='Timeless beauty'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-2106306961993057817</id><published>2007-04-25T21:50:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-25T22:23:29.407+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Child's play</title><content type='html'>Cheerful, happy and sometimes moody&lt;br /&gt;moving randomly, finding spaces&lt;br /&gt;the little child with a mind of his own&lt;br /&gt;follows his heart, into the world unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he has no beliefs, no prejudices&lt;br /&gt;I teach him, the ways of the world&lt;br /&gt;don't do this and don't go there&lt;br /&gt;he doesn't listen, he has to play&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go, my child, it's your game&lt;br /&gt;give it your best and never lose faith&lt;br /&gt;whatever is the result at the end of the day&lt;br /&gt;in my eyes, my sweetest child&lt;br /&gt;you'll be a winner, always a winner.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-2106306961993057817?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/2106306961993057817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=2106306961993057817' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/2106306961993057817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/2106306961993057817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2007/04/childs-play.html' title='Child&apos;s play'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-593854834035181803</id><published>2007-04-20T22:22:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-21T23:20:25.360+05:30</updated><title type='text'>हुजूम</title><content type='html'>सड़क पर चलता इक आम इन्सान है&lt;br /&gt;हर चहरे के पीछे दास्ताँ है&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;इस भीड़ में नज़र आती नही शक्सियत हमको&lt;br /&gt;पर हर शक्स अपने आप में इक पहचान है&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;हर किसी की कहानी है&lt;br /&gt;हर का कोई बयां है&lt;br /&gt;सुनने वाले उसे मिलते नहीं&lt;br /&gt;कथाकार की कमी नहीं&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;कहनो को &lt;span class=""&gt;इक पन्ना है&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;हमे तोह लगता है गहरी किताब है&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;किताब को पड़ने की कोशिश कोई क्यों करे&lt;br /&gt;आख़िर सड़क पर चलता इक आम इन्सान है&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-593854834035181803?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/593854834035181803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=593854834035181803' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/593854834035181803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/593854834035181803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2007/04/blog-post_20.html' title='हुजूम'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-7177362012592603004</id><published>2007-04-19T23:33:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-20T00:16:46.310+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Ad shads</title><content type='html'>Advertisements, ads and ads.  Can we imagine our world without them these days? I remember there was a time, read 'good old days'  when there used to be a time slot, about five to ten minutes before a TV show or a movie when these ads were aired and we had a choice to view or chew them.  Imagine watching one of your favorite flicks, a tear jerking scene in &lt;em&gt;Sweet November &lt;/em&gt;and suddenly the omnipresent Amitabh Bachchan shouting 'pappu paas ho gaya' comes out of nowhere...what to do....you want to see Charlize Theron but...alas...the choice is of the sponsors! But all is not that bad..they are anyday far better than the soaps they show on the idiot box.  Atleast the ad world is brimming with creativity...attract a viewer by any means..sense or non sense..the layman should remember  the product. I think they are aware of the fact that the public memory is short....hence hammer them with ads, ads and same ads after every ten minutes is the 'mantra'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the mantra works! even I remember quite a few ads. I'll admit at this point that I like the mastercard ad: "There are some things money can't buy. For everything else, there's MasterCard." And yes, the jingles are better than many of our so called modern filmi songs!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-7177362012592603004?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/7177362012592603004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=7177362012592603004' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/7177362012592603004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/7177362012592603004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2007/04/ad-shads.html' title='Ad shads'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-8366572632329209615</id><published>2007-04-19T22:47:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-19T23:32:47.742+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Rudyard Kipling</title><content type='html'>I just adore the way Rudyard Kipling writes, &lt;em&gt;If&lt;/em&gt; is one of his best poems.  The other one that I like is called &lt;em&gt;The Lesson&lt;/em&gt;. You could read them at &lt;a href="http://www.poetryloverspage.com/poets/kipling/kipling_ind.html"&gt;http://www.poetryloverspage.com/poets/kipling/kipling_ind.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-8366572632329209615?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/8366572632329209615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=8366572632329209615' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/8366572632329209615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/8366572632329209615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2007/04/rudyard-kipling.html' title='Rudyard Kipling'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-4840696025023035056</id><published>2007-04-18T19:29:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-20T22:22:07.717+05:30</updated><title type='text'>मुसाफिर</title><content type='html'>कुछ इस तरह से हम चलने लगे,&lt;br /&gt;कि रास्ता सवरने &lt;span class=""&gt;लगा&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;मंजिलें करीब दिखने लगी,&lt;br /&gt;कारवां सिमटने लगा&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;चलते चलते, राहगीरो को समझा,&lt;br /&gt;हर किसी का कोई ख्वाब है,&lt;br /&gt;हर किसी की कोई तलाश है,&lt;br /&gt;उसे पाने की चाहत में हर कोई बेताब है&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;चाबी उस हसीन दरवाज़े की&lt;br /&gt;हमने जाना खुद ही हमारे पास है&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-4840696025023035056?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/4840696025023035056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=4840696025023035056' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/4840696025023035056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/4840696025023035056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2007/04/musafir.html' title='मुसाफिर'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7003426958191932974.post-302582234887865447</id><published>2007-04-15T22:06:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-15T22:25:29.911+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Earthquakes and Microbes</title><content type='html'>Recently, there was an earthquake rumour in Chandigarh. It spread like fire. Well, nobody was to blame! As Chandigarh and Delhi lie in Zone iv, these regions are vulnerable to earthquakes. City residents have experienced quite a few of them and had enough reason to panic. I was just reading a news release issued by University of California.  What a discovery, microbes, tiny creatures which you can't even see with your naked eyes can help steady buildings against earthquakes!&lt;br /&gt;Read this article in Science Daily at &lt;a href="http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2007/02/070222104624.htm"&gt;http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2007/02/070222104624.htm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the old adage stands true...good things come in small packages!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7003426958191932974-302582234887865447?l=ssheetal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/feeds/302582234887865447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7003426958191932974&amp;postID=302582234887865447' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/302582234887865447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7003426958191932974/posts/default/302582234887865447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssheetal.blogspot.com/2007/04/earthquakes-and-microbes.html' title='Earthquakes and Microbes'/><author><name>ssheetal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10893861242265002719</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
