<?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-7168398964444275497</id><updated>2012-01-30T17:20:35.832-08:00</updated><title type='text'>my world</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>nivedita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06156873585085679828</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>15</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168398964444275497.post-8399635449370629593</id><published>2012-01-30T17:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-30T17:20:35.845-08:00</updated><title type='text'>AFRAID OF?</title><content type='html'>Why are we afraid to acknowledge who we are?&lt;div&gt;Why are we afraid to reach the depths of our own silence?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why are we afraid to let ourselves feel what it is to be happy?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why are we afraid to own something?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why are we afraid to let people love us?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why are we afraid to bear the burden of someone's trust?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why are we afraid to e found?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lost in thoughts,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lost in chaos,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lost in crowd,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Still all alone, all along..!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168398964444275497-8399635449370629593?l=nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/feeds/8399635449370629593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168398964444275497&amp;postID=8399635449370629593' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/8399635449370629593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/8399635449370629593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/2012/01/afraid-of.html' title='AFRAID OF?'/><author><name>nivedita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06156873585085679828</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-7168398964444275497.post-7225226691195341841</id><published>2010-11-30T06:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-30T06:05:39.511-08:00</updated><title type='text'>RETROSPECTING</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNoSpacing"&gt;I nearly reached the climax of one phase of my life. I am about to shed the image of a gawky teenager and wear the image of a dame. I already let my collection of long earrings, of different shapes, sizes and colors that I neatly arrange in my jewelry boxes, to settle in some inaccessible place of my wardrobe. Chick dresses in my wardrobe go down the heap. In a couple of months I will be graduating out of my college.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNoSpacing"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;This particular book, ‘cloud nine minus one’, that I just read somehow made me want to retrospect into my journey so far. I just reflect upon the episodes that have taken place in the transformation of a chubby and naïve schoolgirl to a not so chubby and not so naïve about to graduate woman.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNoSpacing"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;Under the aegis of my school, little did I know about the expanse of the world around and the potpourri of emotions that are to be unraveled. From being a star kid at school to groping for identity at college, life throws all of it at you. I just can’t stop marveling at the volume of lore one is subjected to take in from schooling to graduation. It feels like living a hundred lives in such a short span. (Life takes a snail’s speed after college and after one can start predicting tomorrow with greater percentage of accuracy.) It is because may be we are still entitled to dream, wish and work for them to come true. I remember telling my friends way back in 12’Th grade, after reading five point some one, that we must write out story too. Though we didn’t have much fodder for the book back then, but it could have surely been high on emotions if written. It was again during my engineering that I wanted to write a book again. This one surely has fodder and with a little fiction to it and good writing, it has the potential of becoming a bestseller if written and a major box office hit if filmed.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNoSpacing"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;Every one coming out of college have their own story to tell. I have my own too, filled many adventures and a few misadventures. I had my share of pie with all the necessary ingredients that makes it so special. The laughter, the silent wink, those notes passed, jealousy of sharing a friend, keeping some ones secret with you and yours with the other, tears of joy and pain, lending a ear to the rumors, fear, anxiety and hope. All these and many more that makes the pie what it is.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNoSpacing"&gt;After completing my last read I have this ‘Eureka’ expression on my face, for I finally figure out why I come across so many books based on campus experiences. This is the time when childhood makes its way to adolescence, and adolescence to adulthood which is way more than a rollercoaster ride. So it is actually not a wonder to see so many, and many well received scripts dwelling on this subject exist. Thanks to all those adept people with pen to go with the urge to narrate their story, and less adept like me still discuss this prospect with friends.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNoSpacing"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;The curtains are going to come down on this act of the play. The curtains will raise gain, and a new one will begin. I don’t know how it is going to shape up nor the line of story that will unfold, but there is one thing for certain. When the next act begins I will be an experienced actor. Though I have not mastered the skill, I can still claim to be a tad bit more knowledgeable that I was yesterday. There are lessons learnt and bruises still bearing the scar, but I know I have those special people ‘FRIENDS’ in my life who I can always count on. It is my school pals who inspire me to take on life and rack up something so that I can celebrate that joy with them, and there is family who always welcome us back open arms despite all our follies. So this is just a crescendo and I am looking forward to tomorrow with new found sagacity. Here I am in love with life yet again. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168398964444275497-7225226691195341841?l=nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/feeds/7225226691195341841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168398964444275497&amp;postID=7225226691195341841' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/7225226691195341841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/7225226691195341841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/2010/11/retrospecting.html' title='RETROSPECTING'/><author><name>nivedita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06156873585085679828</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-7168398964444275497.post-8659248488770987895</id><published>2010-11-26T01:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-26T03:10:26.828-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SOCIAL NETWORK</title><content type='html'>It was &lt;i&gt;social network&lt;/i&gt; and Harsha who inspired me to pen down this post.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While i was riding back home after watching 'social network' , I was struck with this particular idea. Isn't it women who run the world? Oh no, I am not indicating at the likes of Sonia Gandhi, Queen Elizabeth so on and so forth. Its just that in this particular movie, the founder of facebook could not take rejection from a girl and BANG, that laid the cornerstone of facebook. The claim to fame by the geek was that he could get 22,000 clicks to his page within just a night. People were thronging in because it was to do with girls again. The biggest trump card for the site to gain popularity was the relationship status. Again to do with girls, Oh unless if the guy is gay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Leaving facebook behind for sometime, and talking about a more primeval social networking site 'Orkut'. I used to get forward mails of how Orkut was found by a cupid stuck guy trying to reunite with his lost girlfriend through social networking. I still don't know how true that story is , but the point is , it was again a girl! There might be a great contrast of emotions behind both the founders, but they had a common impetus 'GIRLS'.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Social networking is fun. It presents a whole new virtual world before us and leads us through alleys we have never been before in the real world. In here, even the non existent, timid and docile species have made a place for themselves. I find it inscrutable as to how an undemonstrative, reserved, inhibited introvert in my class turns out to be so effusive, outgoing and gushy on social network. I see them posting pictures with shades on, sporting denims or on a bike all trying to look hip and happening. The other guys who in fact are groovy and swell in the real world keep up the same signature even on the social networking sites too. They just try to satiate their ego online and try claiming the crown of 'The stud sovereign' without making their attempts look evident. This snowballs his popularity and his name goes round in girl talks and there he gets himself a 'hard to get girl' throwing herself at him.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Half the men in social networking are there just to get laid. They are there to paint their fantasies with a female face. Apart from its true purpose 'social networking' , its more of a fishing expedition for guys. The MBAs could learn a lesson from the guys here of how to market oneself and take cues about advertising and roping in people. So as I say, its all about &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;GIRLS&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; in capitals, italic and bold.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since I am underscoring the importance of girls so much on social networking, let me also throw light on what the angelic species think of it themselves. For the girls, apart from its true use social networking, it serves as a yard stick to measure how illustrious or so to say pretty they are. It just helps them keep a count of how many admirers they have got. We have yet another genre of females just as thick as their counterparts, but I would not enunciate that part here. It can be done in a later post. This space is reserved to glorify GIRLS. (sorry boys!! ;-))&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The purport and the point that I am driving at is that without girls, social networking would just become a subject that Ross Gallar the paleontologist would be interested to study.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh yeas, If you are wondering why I took Harsha's name at the beginning of the post, it was only to pull his leg and to educate him on the dynamics of social networking. Kid grow up! Oops, sorry proff Lupin. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This post is not intended to take a dig at the guys. I just intend to pen it in a good spirit, and for the record I was posting on orkut as well as facebook while blogging this one. So i'll end it with HAIL social networking..!! :)  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168398964444275497-8659248488770987895?l=nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/feeds/8659248488770987895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168398964444275497&amp;postID=8659248488770987895' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/8659248488770987895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/8659248488770987895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/2010/11/social-natwork.html' title='SOCIAL NETWORK'/><author><name>nivedita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06156873585085679828</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-7168398964444275497.post-335259524392247326</id><published>2009-08-09T03:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-09T03:32:21.989-07:00</updated><title type='text'>MY 1'ST VOTE AND THE TERM THAT IS...</title><content type='html'>&lt;meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CADMINI%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="country-region"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:WordDocument&gt;   &lt;w:View&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:Zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:PunctuationKerning/&gt;   &lt;w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/&gt;   &lt;w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:Compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:BreakWrappedTables/&gt;    &lt;w:SnapToGridInCell/&gt;    &lt;w:WrapTextWithPunct/&gt;    &lt;w:UseAsianBreakRules/&gt;    &lt;w:DontGrowAutofit/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:BrowserLevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if !mso]&gt;&lt;object  classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id=ieooui&gt;&lt;/object&gt; &lt;style&gt; st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Font Definitions */  @font-face 	{font-family:Calibri; 	panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; 	mso-font-charset:0; 	mso-generic-font-family:swiss; 	mso-font-pitch:variable; 	mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073750139 0 0 159 0;}  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin-top:0in; 	margin-right:0in; 	margin-bottom:10.0pt; 	margin-left:0in; 	line-height:115%; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:11.0pt; 	font-family:Calibri; 	mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:8.5in 11.0in; 	margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-ansi-language:#0400; 	mso-fareast-language:#0400; 	mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I tarried a little before I pressed the blue button. I moved ahead and pressed the blue button again on another machine. This time I thrust my thumb against the button for a little long and confident until the beep sound registered loud and clear, ringing in my ears and echoed in the room. I walked out of the room with glint in my eyes and a cognitive content to my heart and mind. I held my index finger of my left hand in pride to exhibit my nail that has been dotted black. Yes I’ve cast my first vote not waiting more than a year after I’ve come to age. At 19 years I stood a chance to participate in &lt;st1:country-region w:st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place w:st="on"&gt;India&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;’s 15’Th lok sabha elections. I made a choice over the governance of my state and my country for the next five years.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;It’s been four months since the world’s largest democracy gyrated to enunciate the verdict of people. The black dot on my nail is on the verge of getting erased, and the curtain has been long drawn on the people making a prophecy about the democratic crown prince of &lt;st1:country-region w:st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place w:st="on"&gt;India&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;, and the winkles of television channels blaring with breaking news reporting the election circus. The jocular exploits of accusations and self appointed crusaders of humanity have all ebbed, when the elections marquee has been folded in and the election commission has decided to heave a sigh of relief.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The Indian National congress swept the floor of the parliament with a clear majority, and Dr Manmohan Singh was placed on the mantel as prime minister under the flagship of UPA government. Congress harked back to its lost sheen of yesteryears, and emerged as a government ,without having to take coalition tailspins. Thanks to the ‘aam admi’ ,and pro poor mandate of congress, it has galvanized itself to victory.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;President Prathibha Patil has vocalized some path breaking measures that the government would do in the first 100 years of power, which was quite commendable, and would be really appreciated if things are set into motion, and emerge out of the papers. Global meltdown and recession asks for special focus on the economic policies of the country. The budget this year comes with more than 6% fiscal deficit, against the figures that register around 3% last year. Inclusive growth is talked about much in the budget, but the high fiscal deficit remains as a great concern. The flawed food security plan proposed is inadequate, and addresses only a pinch of population with limited utilities. The much talked about women’s bill was mooted in the parliament, and looks like it needs to take in some more rounds of battering on the anvil before a stance is taken on it. The sophian carnage in J&amp;amp;K has had the country to look up north, and people are waiting to see how the government does to mollify the ire of people there whose reaction to the incident has been rampant. The education bill which proclaims to bring every child under the umbrella of its services has been passed in the parliament, and all eyes are glued to witness how it materializes. The H1N1 virus moored on the Indian shores, and the pandemic has engulfed a sizable number in its clouds, and taken a toll of a 14 year old Pune girl’s life. The government is showing little gesticulations to handle the outbreak of the pandemic, though some measures have been employed. An eliciting proposal by the government to abolish the capital punishment has got mixed responses from people and concern is expressed from those who think that terrorists deserve no pardon. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Apart from the recession and budget, &lt;st1:country-region w:st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place w:st="on"&gt;India&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;’s foreign policy is the subject that is doing rounds in the noetic circles. The prime minister faces criticism of becoming liquescent in dealing with &lt;st1:country-region w:st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place w:st="on"&gt;Pakistan&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;. The phrase, “trust but verify” that Dr Manmohan Singh has popularized is not what most of the Indians think, is the veracious approach towards Pakistan, which is showing trivial effort in working towards deserving trust from India. The mammoth amount of money spent on purchasing used aircraft carriers from &lt;st1:country-region w:st="on"&gt;Russia&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; is nothing but white elephant for &lt;st1:country-region w:st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place w:st="on"&gt;India&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;. The nuclear commitments of &lt;st1:country-region w:st="on"&gt;India&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; with the &lt;st1:country-region w:st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place w:st="on"&gt;US&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; jeopardized our entire nuclear mission. The government failed to realize the ostensible intentions of the &lt;st1:country-region w:st="on"&gt;US&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; to curb &lt;st1:country-region w:st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place w:st="on"&gt;India&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;’s growth, and walked into its obliterated clauses. &lt;st1:country-region w:st="on"&gt;India&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; should wake up at least before it falls into the &lt;st1:country-region w:st="on"&gt;US&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; radar before it commits itself to the end use monitoring (EUM) that was put forth by Hillary Clinton in her visit to &lt;st1:place w:st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region w:st="on"&gt;India&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;. The government should observe caution so as not to tangle the relations with &lt;st1:country-region w:st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place w:st="on"&gt;Iran&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;. We have to stick to out Non alignment vantage point without getting succumbed to the whims of US, and come forth in playing a responsible and significant role in the world policies. We have to realize, that we are sufficient enough to demand for our rightful bread, rather than live on crumbs thrown at us by the developed countries. The &lt;st1:city w:st="on"&gt;Copenhagen&lt;/st1:city&gt; summit on climatic change is a platform where &lt;st1:country-region w:st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place w:st="on"&gt;India&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; could make its voice heard and nominate itself to a responsible persona on the stage of world politics. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168398964444275497-335259524392247326?l=nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/feeds/335259524392247326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168398964444275497&amp;postID=335259524392247326' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/335259524392247326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/335259524392247326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-1st-vote-and-term-that-is.html' title='MY 1&apos;ST VOTE AND THE TERM THAT IS...'/><author><name>nivedita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06156873585085679828</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-7168398964444275497.post-5916377517641485410</id><published>2009-08-08T20:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-09T03:11:02.558-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ALLEGED</title><content type='html'>The ghosts were swirling and swooping around the air. Each one of them transducing through opaque structures stretching into the heavens. The smoldering figures annulled the laws of buoyancy and meteored down shreaking and griping that reverberated in her veins. They were the ghosts memories hovering above her. She dashed out of the edifice leaving tumult of people's accusations behind her. The upheaval didn't seem to have receded. she tractioned the animosity in the room, vaulting it in her heart, into the open. She was among strangers on the road and the alienating faces pervaded her throughout the alley not showing any acknowledgment to the hurricane raging in her. The only familiarity of her condition is with the ghosts, the ghosts of memory that are appending to the misery. The irony is that even in the presence of her folk, the pupils of the class with whome she associated herself with, she was left stigmatized with the torpedoes of questions shot at her. She was left to take the hammering on the anvil. Even as she moved away from the eye of the storm, the winds seem to have closed on her where ever she went. will the ghosts ever rest in peace for the perjury she has committed before her amigos? Will she come out unscratched from the aftermath of the whirlpool of emotions she is subjected to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EPILOGUE:&lt;br /&gt;So far I've written things that I personally felt. This is one of the 1'st attempts I made, to give the feelings of my fellomates condition, as i see it, into a tangible form. It is not intended to offend anyone though my classmates would thoroughly understand what am trying to personify [;)]. Friends we gotta let go old things and stay at bay from certain things and move on i guess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168398964444275497-5916377517641485410?l=nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/feeds/5916377517641485410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168398964444275497&amp;postID=5916377517641485410' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/5916377517641485410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/5916377517641485410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/2009/08/alleged.html' title='ALLEGED'/><author><name>nivedita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06156873585085679828</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-7168398964444275497.post-7697547627526741322</id><published>2008-10-07T08:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-07T08:57:34.461-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE HEART OF THE LADY I KNOW</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;The melodies of ‘Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge’, the description in Keats’s poems, the chilly pleasant evenings, the scenic beauty of the nature, the starry sky with the mood studded in the black canopy makes me feel lonely. Lonely even amidst a crowd. It draws me deep, to look at myself, into my soul.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;Then I realize am only a half of the wing yang and that am not complete without my other half. But where is my other half? Have all the men in the world become extinct? Is there no one who could get me interested in himself? Then I ponder on what would be that ‘alma matter’ which would make me want to spend the rest of my life with ‘THE ONE’ and the only one.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;The stunts of Bruce Willis, Orlando’s smile, hrithik’s charm and siddharth’s cuteness made me exclaim WOW! But I never wanted to be a rose in their hand. The average sex ratio around my area is around 965/1000. That means am at an advantage to choose from a lot and there is no dearth of hunks, cute faces, good brains, attitude wits and humor. But if u ask me why on earth am I still single? That’s because I ‘vent found the right combo of ingredients that am looking for. I didn’t find the efforts made by the man to win his mistress (that’s me [;)]) worth a nod.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;Well being a lady is not a bed of roses. She wears the tiara of pride and dignity. To utter the word “YES” is a herculean task for her. May be deep down in the heart she does admire him, but she restrains herself to receive his love. That surely doesn’t mean she is not interested. It only means that the effort required to win her hand is inadequate. She might even feel apprehensive to trust him, or might be unable to decipher her own feelings for the guy.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;This is actually the right time to win the lady. Impregnate faith in her that she means world to you and that she is the perfect better half you always wanted. Put in the effort and make her feel protected giving her a glimpse of how safe she is going to be with you for the rest of her life. A back off at this juncture will only leave sour memories and negative shades about the guy as a playboy when she see’s him in some one else’s company.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;If the girl thinks she needs time, give her space and allow her to resolve her issues and fulfill her own obligations to accept the guy in her life. During such times give her assurance that you can wait for a lifetime to hold her hand. Then she would surely seal a promise of a lifetime with her beau.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;But guys mind you, if she treats you like scum and your thought doesn’t even cross her mind to hate you, read the signs and back off. The guy can never be anything to the girl. This is how I feel too.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;Well customizing the whole theory of what a girl wants, I want to make it more specific of what I am seeking. I would fall for some one with a ‘guy next door’ image, tall and strong enough to lift me in his arms. Some one who can understand my expression in Hindi, English and Telugu. Whose soul ,is sensitive to stimulate to the spiritual fervor and keep religion at a bay, would compliment my soul. In whose company my cheeks always bear a dimple and turn red on blushing would be my guy. Some one who can make me feel dainty delicate before him would be my man. In whose company I feel defenseless and the one who can paint my fortress of pride with the colors of love earns the key to come and live in it. The prince, with the heart of a lion who is ready to cross all the impediments with courage and swim across the current under any circumstances, who sits on his knee with a sonnet on his lips and rose in his hand will win the hand of the princess.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;DISCLAIMER: hey guys dont scold me 4 i've included loads of things dat wud hurt  ur ego i suppose but yeh generally girls do expect all this. for all the girls who liked it thank you. n those who didnt go n read sum john grey's relation ship books...[:P]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168398964444275497-7697547627526741322?l=nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/feeds/7697547627526741322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168398964444275497&amp;postID=7697547627526741322' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/7697547627526741322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/7697547627526741322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/2008/10/heart-of-lady-i-know.html' title='THE HEART OF THE LADY I KNOW'/><author><name>nivedita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06156873585085679828</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>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168398964444275497.post-3044541144665775827</id><published>2008-10-07T06:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-07T06:56:19.963-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I AM 18</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I just wanted pen down a few revelations I discovered in the wake of turning 18. (Well am writing this nearly 6 months after I turned 18.) It’s a whole new world for me, but it &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;hasn’t really changed much for our pot bellied politicians, how does it matter to them if a fresh bunch of vigorous Indians hit the floor to take over the future of India, nor did it matter much to my college lecturers, except for a bunch of fresh faces sweeping in and out the corridors of the department. Well the point here is it matters to me that I turned 18, even if it does not register as an event to the rest of the world, and that now am legally entitled a citizen of &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;India&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; and bestowed on me the freedom, it definitely is a hell lot of a big deal to me. The time I ferried across so far in my 18 years or in the 18’th year in specific has taught me a few new things, that my mom missed out for me to experiment and learn myself and it has eluded certain preconceived notions out of me, leaving me facing a new horizon and hopes of distinct voyages. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;If you are wondering what’s in this bandwagon that’s blaring a lot? Then I would say nothing more than the silly teenage quip that’s doing rounds with most of the urban youth but this one is with a personalized and customized touch. I would rather call it my confession or my short biography of triumphs and failures. (If you are wondering why on Earth you are reading a biography of SOME teenager blabbering her private affair public! I would say that you are reading the human mind, and it is surely worth exploring be it any ones for that matter.) &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;A couple of months before turning 18, I joined an engineering college. (Definitely not THE KIND I dreamed of going to, nevertheless it isn’t that bad after all, only if I turn a blind eye to the conservative ways prevailing in the place.) &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It was set in a completely different backdrop. I was strictly warned by my mother that my every move would be monitored by my prying relatives or for that matter the rumor mongers in the college who have nothing better do to than to bother other people. Little did I know how true she was and with in no time I found ample of eyes hounding me in every direction. Probably my denial of doctrine made by male chauvinistic society led me to be in the spotlight, and my every step was mocked at. (Oh please am not a sissy and neither am I brooding over the unwanted attention I am getting, however annoying it is.) &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I realized that they are framed in a fixed mould and despise anyone made of different craftsmanship. (I wonder how reliable those surveys are which claim the globalizing attitude of Indian youth who are ready for a change!) My bubble of a ‘wanna be’ kind of society burst and I had to bend my head and mute my voice many at times to be in the flock. It was the first time that I had to live away from my parents in a hostel. It is probably my first leap out of my safe and well protected cocoon with my parents. This surely has taught me quite a few things, the pros and cons of living on your own. (I hate to fold my clothes, yet am a little glad that I don’t have to hear mom screaming at me for my prolonged conversations over the phone.) Just as my 18’th birthday was round the corners I was swarmed by a group of people whom I could call my friends in the college.( I wasn’t really sure for how long my crowned friends were going to stick together, that is until no new controversy propped up between us or at least until we were not found bitching about each other behind the back and least of all until we didn’t see each other as a potential threat to our own career and popularity- oh common guys face it that’s how it works these days. ’yeh dosti hum nahi chodenge’ kind of species have become extinct.) Thanks to these people who have so to say helped me trim myself to fit the suit tailored by the college folks. (I meant taming myself to the ways of the college.) As the old saying goes ‘compromise won’t last long’, I couldn’t hide my farce of being this submissive lass for a long time. At times I exploded with fits of anger at my fellow mates and ended up using the taboo ‘roadies tongue’ (well the folks featured in roadies are considered to be the ‘stay away from my kid’ kinds for most of the parents.) After coming out of school I realized that the &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;India&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; that’s been blown in the media and the youth that’s been featured in MTV actually don’t make the bulk of &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;India&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;. The true color of &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;India&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; is what I’ve seen in my college where people recoil to an outspoken woman voicing her views without any inhibitions. So it was again another alarm bell for me to keep my language and the content of my speech in check, not to give my grandmother or my aunt a heart attack at least.(bless me, my mom understands me in this matter and I’ve no qualms with her.)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Folks i think i'll end the post here...not because am running out of words...but running out of space...there is so much that i wana spill here...so taking Chetan Bhagat , Tushar Raheja n the likes as my inspiration i wana pen down the journey of my engineering life into a book too....so readers if u really find it interesting keep waiting for the next installment...and for those of you who r happy that it's over here go home and watch ekta kapoor's daily soaps...[:P]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168398964444275497-3044541144665775827?l=nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/feeds/3044541144665775827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168398964444275497&amp;postID=3044541144665775827' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/3044541144665775827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/3044541144665775827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-am-18.html' title='I AM 18'/><author><name>nivedita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06156873585085679828</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-7168398964444275497.post-67282847995690196</id><published>2007-12-06T04:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T05:13:53.108-08:00</updated><title type='text'>VEILS OF LIFE</title><content type='html'>The unperterbed pool of glistering water beams with radiance at me as the ray of light touches its surface. The trancparency of the water reflects my mind and the thoughts as i watch the bed of the pond. I thought that the water was pure and seemed like glass that allowed my gaze to travel past the surface and reach the bed.&lt;br /&gt;All this came to a hault with a tiny stone that was hurled into the pond from no where. It hit the bottom of the bed. The ripples reverberatd in my ears and lay before me was the murky water. The disturbed mud particals producing tindal effect was better felt in my heart.The truth struck me like a thunder storm. The transparency was gone.The muddy colour engulfed the whole pond making it opaque and shattereing my presumption.&lt;br /&gt;Truth is not always what what stands before the eyes. It unravels itself only on searching for it. Everything that appears good has sommething else in store to be witnessed. There is nothing permanent in this world. Everything is a prejudiced presumption that keeps swaying with the changing direction of the wind.&lt;br /&gt;The situations, people and circumstances we come across in our life are always not as simple and transparent as they appear. On stiring the subject we discover what is under cover that is hidden from our knowledge.&lt;br /&gt;The unarmed victim to this mirage the life offers, alone is gulty for his ignorance. Life has always been in veils. The water in the pond has something more in the bed just than the transparent water.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168398964444275497-67282847995690196?l=nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/feeds/67282847995690196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168398964444275497&amp;postID=67282847995690196' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/67282847995690196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/67282847995690196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/2007/12/veils-of-life.html' title='VEILS OF LIFE'/><author><name>nivedita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06156873585085679828</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>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168398964444275497.post-8008142315345330994</id><published>2007-12-06T04:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T04:57:28.789-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WAIT</title><content type='html'>Batting my eye lashes i keep waiting. Wait seems eternal, untouched and unperturbed by the tide of time. Like the glow of a diamond under the volume of the ocean. The nature of the wait remains concealed from me, giving me a glimpse of its glow here and there around the corner of a bend down the lane i travel. My wait as i percieve it now is for the key to unfold my destiny before myself. That destiny of mine which i am destined to behold.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168398964444275497-8008142315345330994?l=nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/feeds/8008142315345330994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168398964444275497&amp;postID=8008142315345330994' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/8008142315345330994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/8008142315345330994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/2007/12/wait.html' title='WAIT'/><author><name>nivedita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06156873585085679828</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-7168398964444275497.post-1127689954600043674</id><published>2007-11-17T02:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-17T02:57:18.443-08:00</updated><title type='text'>PAIN</title><content type='html'>Sometimes in the drift of time we stand alone.....may be not at deserted and directionless cross roads, may be not in the deserted dark woods, may be not in between the deep oceans. It could be amidst a crowd and noise you still feel alone and silence echoing from the depths of the heart. The anguish in the heart burns every living cell from the gut to the brain until the life evaporates and the sensation dies. At that instant nothing really matters at all. The eyes become indifferent to every shade. The pain no more twines the heart. Everything living is reduced to smoke and the soul stands still even in a whirlpool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168398964444275497-1127689954600043674?l=nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/feeds/1127689954600043674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168398964444275497&amp;postID=1127689954600043674' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/1127689954600043674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/1127689954600043674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/2007/11/pain.html' title='PAIN'/><author><name>nivedita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06156873585085679828</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168398964444275497.post-2684185124852838871</id><published>2007-08-20T22:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-20T22:35:02.719-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ABSTRACT THOUGHTS...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_AcUsF9hB0UY/Rsp5ewERirI/AAAAAAAAAAc/gTMdSLlliUI/s1600-h/168052329.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101023097156373170" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_AcUsF9hB0UY/Rsp5ewERirI/AAAAAAAAAAc/gTMdSLlliUI/s320/168052329.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I close my eyes and refrain from light,&lt;br /&gt;I seal my mind and leave my thoughts in darkness,&lt;br /&gt;I shut my lips and go unheard,&lt;br /&gt;I cease to exist and go unoticed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it the end? or the beginig?&lt;br /&gt;Is it the fall ?or trasfiguration to a new plane?&lt;br /&gt;Is it stumbling into darkness? or embracing nothingness?&lt;br /&gt;Is it a murder?or a birth of a new life?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not wish to evaporate, neithr do i want to breathe.&lt;br /&gt;I do not wish to fall down the cliff, neither do i want to scale new heights.&lt;br /&gt;I do not wish to shrink my world, neither do i want to cross new frontiers.&lt;br /&gt;I do not wish to hate, neither do i want to love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This isnt a product of desolation,dejection or renunciation. It was just an outcome to go deep into one self. It is just an abstract thought and an unheard song of the wandering soul for its true destination.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168398964444275497-2684185124852838871?l=nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/feeds/2684185124852838871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168398964444275497&amp;postID=2684185124852838871' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/2684185124852838871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/2684185124852838871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/2007/08/abstract-thoughts.html' title='ABSTRACT THOUGHTS...'/><author><name>nivedita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06156873585085679828</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_AcUsF9hB0UY/Rsp5ewERirI/AAAAAAAAAAc/gTMdSLlliUI/s72-c/168052329.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168398964444275497.post-8983062637251283091</id><published>2007-06-29T23:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-17T03:40:42.186-08:00</updated><title type='text'>DECCAN BY ROAD.....</title><content type='html'>It was almost certain that it would be my last breathe of air I inhaled in Hyderabad in the near future. I could'nt quite take the thought of moving to bhopal for a couple of months ( phew! glad i'll be back to vizag once my engineering college starts) on the account of dad's transfer. Nevertheless as the last day arrived when i had to bid adieu to hyd. I did'nt find it that difficult as I thought it would be for me, rather a new perspective engulfed me.I started looking forward upon the journey we were to undertake from Hyderabad to Bhopal with a night halt at Nagpur.Mom woke me early in the morning on 12'th so that we can start off early. As soon as we braced ourselves and let behind our neighbors waving bye at us, I was on a SMS spree letting all my riends know about my departure and that i wont have my cell with me any more too. Sob sob.....We did speed of pretty well before it got hot and managed to reach Adilabad by about 11:30 in the afternoon when we started at 5:45 from Hyderabad. Adilabad outskirts was the last when i saw sign boards is telugu. Later we entered Maharashtra around noon. It was clearly marked by change of topography. To me the rocks resembled as the age old remains of lava flow due to a volcanic eruption.Now people out there should excuse me for my ignorance but I only reported what i felt like seeing those huge, lifeless, black and brownish carpet like rock structure. It has nothing to do with any scientific or geological knowledge.As soon as we entered Maharashtra mom dad were keen to scale maximum miles the same day by taking a shorter route avoiding Nagpur. The Nagpur highway was'nt that good. It was rugged eroded and very bumpy. We stoped at a nearby dhaba and checked out what was available for lunch.The south indian food was already replaced by parathas already on the menu. As i predicted my health freaky mom would order something like curd rice, she jsut made my predictions true. Just as I put up a sulky face for having curd rice and trying to slip a few spoons under my table to a stray dog, a battalion of Bison regiment coming from Jabalpur halted their trucks near the same dhaba. I was glad to see them as i knew that the Bison regiment would go and report at secunderabad near my former house as that was their base. How i longed to go back to hyderabad with them :( We soaked our handkechief and towels to save us from the heat wave, but to my surprise they got dry just within 3 minutes after we resumed our journey.We took the Yavothmal road. Travelling against the central india's heat wave at noon wasnt a good idea. Yet i crouched in the back seat of my car and just gazed out of the window as my dad drove along the comparatively less bumpy road.  It was a lot more greener than  the actual  highway  to Nagpur (the part of the road before we took the detour) . As we neared yavothmal a saw a huge ITC outlet in the outskirts of the city and was quite amazed to find it there. I didnt see anything like that down south and was dumbstruck that some remote place had something as big as that.(am not sure if yavothmal is a remote place in the first place, so dont grunt at me if am wrong... :) ) . From&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to b conti....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168398964444275497-8983062637251283091?l=nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/feeds/8983062637251283091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168398964444275497&amp;postID=8983062637251283091' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/8983062637251283091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/8983062637251283091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/2007/06/deccan-by-road.html' title='DECCAN BY ROAD.....'/><author><name>nivedita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06156873585085679828</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168398964444275497.post-3253109890844290424</id><published>2007-04-10T03:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-30T21:55:49.212-07:00</updated><title type='text'>LEGACY OF MY IIT-JEE 2007</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It all started with my cousin's visit to my place with a calvin and hobbes comic and a box full of hersheys chocolates when I was in about 6'th grade. He came home from singapore after his research. And afer he left mom started prasising him and crowned him with all the good names I was aware of untill then because he graduated from IIT. According to people that was the temple of learning and store house of real brains in India. I got fascinated by all thatI heard and started imagining myself awed at too. And when I actually planted the seed of IIT in my brain little did i know about its nature and the effort it demanded except for the laurels and big bucks the IITians fetch for themselves.&lt;br /&gt;It was just not me here. Probably each one had a different start but around ten folks from my class declared their aspirations of getting the tag of beeing IITians behind their names too. And so 1 among us joined a famous couching institute for IIT JEE and so did the rest of us, and offcourse the aspiring 7'th grade pupil myself too. Since i was a good student at school always a pain in the neck to my teachers with my ever ending questions, a sweet pain though[:D], they directed my mom to put me in IIT track.With my initial excietment and ignorance 1'st few days were bed of roses. I liked the liberty we were given to ask anything under the skies and got explinations for that too. But as time rolled a little reality struck like a thunderbolt.I realised I had to put in more than what I was giving to it, I had to work harded and stick to books which i was nevr used to coming from a CBSE background. I realised i was not the best here unlike at school and I was neither toping in the exams as i used to do at school. I was never used to scoring less all my life, so it kind of shook the ground beneath me and i started hating the coaching center. Every time i felt low mom used to give me strength and used to plant me in the battle field. But somehow my like has already turned into dislike and the more i hated it the more i wanted to achieve it. Yet sumthing got clearly ingrained in my mind that IIT was not my cup of tea. So thats how some wonderful evenings of my school days were ruined in the dark rooms of my coaching center.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally with a good score in my boards i was out of the school as well as vizag. Dad got transfered to hyderabad so moved along with him. But IIT still haunted me. Hyderabad is supposed to be a hub to produce IITians. And not to mention about institutes like rammaiyah and krishna murthy's v study circle for which all the 10'th passouts and IIT aspirants would give the enterance exam to get in. And because of the crap competition i had to join in a coaching center to actually get into another coachin center [:O]....phew....!!And because of that i had to miss my farewell and join immidiately after my board exams. My summer was spent in classes and giving various exams for institutes that offered IIT JEE coaching. I was pretty sure that i wont be gettin into anything but i couldnt expect much with my rotten luck and i got into krishnamurthy [:(] well got into the newly established S.R.nagar branch. I still cant figure out if its a boon or a bane. At this point my hopes on IIT revived again after a good performance in the summer and wanted to give it a try so plunged into it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here starts my another phase in the journey during my 11'th and 12'th which was full of rollercoaster ride. During this phase things were totally different. I will certainly give an acoount of my college life in another post.So with reloaded excitement and enthusiasm it kicked off well. Used to pay keen attention to all that was going on in the class and bent at completing the chapters from different books the same day. Initially i knew a very few people of my class though i almost spoke with every girl and gave them the impression of a chatterbox right the first day. It was all more like mind your business and spy on what the other person is studying and just get away. But as the time rolled and as a few tests were conducted things changed. Like all the elite folks who scored exceptionally well flocked together and we termed them aliens and never bothered to disturb them. And the rest who have stuff as well but dont really score as high as the rest teamed up and started working together.Stay backs after college timings, using library extensively was done initially.But as we got used to the college, staff and folks around us and when we were looking around for a break i guess i took quite a long one. Friendships started getting thick and so hanging out and going to each other's place and longer pani puri breaks ruined loads of study time. And when friendships were getting strong it is kind of obvious that we get into some or the other row. Spent ample of time in petty fights and stupid misunderstandings. Come what may all of us stuck to each other till the end. Or atleast thats what we promised each other. Each one of were keen to know what the other one studying and what books he or she was following. And everyday we promised to do some quality work at home after college but in vain. Yet none of us got tiered of planing a new study time table every day which seldome got executed. There were days when we got ignited by our lecturer's inspirational speeches and strained our eyes for a couple of hours together at a stretch, but alas nothing lasted too long :( . Days rolled too fast and we didnt realise that it was december and we just had 3 more months to hit IIT-JEE. Attendence could be counted on finger tips and we prefered staying at home and studying. But well it wasnt a bright idea again, so we strated alternating between college and home where ever we could study the best. And when feb approached we were forced to open our intermediate course which we never did all through the two years except once in 11'th before the boards. And so devoted ten days of feb was devoted to 11'th n 12'th and 15 days in march to write the boards. And after that all that we had was just IIT before us. All of us grew daam serious during that time and sacrificed net and cell totally.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Now the D day arrived. It was on april 8'th andi had to go to lallaguda railway degree college to give my JEE. Mom and dad escorted me to the center and i could see many more anxious parents with their children just as mine. In fact i was really amused by the sight of all the tensed parents who were trying to assure their children and give them confidence. Man cant they just leave them in silence before the exam seriously i couldnt take all that. So finally i got into my room and was waiting for the instructions. The question paper had a seal which i couldnt open untill the invigilator asked me to. Yet i was trying to peek into the paper with a little success. As soon as i opened the paper and just fliped through i felt like i was struck by a thunderbolt. I didnt imagine even in my wildest dreams that it could be so easy. As i was going further and attempting my paper i feareed of faring really well which i couldnt believe actually. I came out of the hall dumbstruck. Mom was eager to hear what i would say. She feared the shock over my face but releaved to hear that it was due to a pleasant reason. Had some icecreams and some home made food and headed back to write paper-2. Since paper-1 seemed easy i expected paper-2 to be a bit tough. But to my surprise even that was pretty easy and almost followed the footsteps on paper-1. I almost screamed seeing the paper i guess. It was kinda difficult to conceal my happiness on seeing the paper. Exam was a grand success, as far as i know i've done pretty well and i actually coudnt believe that. Later i learnt that almost all the folks have done as well as i did or may be better than me. But well never mind, i still had some hope and feared a heart attack if in case i hear that i cleared JEE. So here i sit awaiting my result. More later......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168398964444275497-3253109890844290424?l=nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/feeds/3253109890844290424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168398964444275497&amp;postID=3253109890844290424' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/3253109890844290424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/3253109890844290424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/2007/04/legacy-of-my-iit-jee-2007.html' title='LEGACY OF MY IIT-JEE 2007'/><author><name>nivedita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06156873585085679828</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>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168398964444275497.post-3820811288722186762</id><published>2007-04-06T20:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-06T21:06:13.749-07:00</updated><title type='text'>LIFEZ BUISINESS.....</title><content type='html'>Well i say life is buisiness...and one should mind their own....the one who doesnt is the biggest fool...there is no place for crap emotions and sentiments....this is just a mechanical world...every thing done and said here means buisiness....even a smile or a tear shed has some meaning and a mission to be accomplished. Basically the world runs on bucks. This one is as true as the sun raises in the east or that bush has gone crazy [:P] And when its not bucks its the turn of fame that matters. Either way its just buisiness. Now u might pull up its not the same with mother, her love towards her child isnt buisiness. And to that i'll say who the fuck is talking about mother and child relationship, that can be discussed in some other post.&lt;br /&gt;love between a boy and a girl is just crap. Here love means buisiness, u can get a date or a partner for a stupid dance conveniently in the name of love. Just make some fake vows of he/she is the best thing that could happen to ur life.&lt;br /&gt;And now coming to friends. Another bunch of emotional fools. Just share some not so important personal stuff and lend them ur soulder and they are in.&lt;br /&gt;Parents, aaahh parents...living gods they say....bla bla bla...who cares....we care about how much they put in our account n they care about showing us as their trophy of their success.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168398964444275497-3820811288722186762?l=nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/feeds/3820811288722186762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168398964444275497&amp;postID=3820811288722186762' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/3820811288722186762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/3820811288722186762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/2007/04/lifez-buisiness.html' title='LIFEZ BUISINESS.....'/><author><name>nivedita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06156873585085679828</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>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168398964444275497.post-4063224350225560258</id><published>2007-04-06T18:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-06T18:45:02.604-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ALAS!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_AcUsF9hB0UY/Rhb3hzMCPBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3KGyCdHdkBU/s1600-h/CABZDRC1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_AcUsF9hB0UY/Rhb3hzMCPBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3KGyCdHdkBU/s320/CABZDRC1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5050496192191020050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Days seem bright and beautiful&lt;br /&gt;birds chirping, and flowers blooming&lt;br /&gt;smile spreading, and skies gleaming&lt;br /&gt;thoughts unperturbed, eyes seeing one face&lt;br /&gt;one reflection, one voice, one thought&lt;br /&gt;that carries me on and on and on.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every breath i take,&lt;br /&gt;i live a million lives&lt;br /&gt;every time i close my eyes,&lt;br /&gt;i cherish a million moments&lt;br /&gt;every time i smile to myself,&lt;br /&gt;i recollect the treasured memories worth a million&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alas....the days rolled and the seasons changed&lt;br /&gt;skies darkened and heart crippled&lt;br /&gt;birds flew and flowers shed their petals&lt;br /&gt;smile seems lost in dreams&lt;br /&gt;and the face in the eyes dwindles in waters&lt;br /&gt;the ripples have shaken the silence&lt;br /&gt;one relection, one voice, one thought&lt;br /&gt;that carries me on and on and on..........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168398964444275497-4063224350225560258?l=nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/feeds/4063224350225560258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168398964444275497&amp;postID=4063224350225560258' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/4063224350225560258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168398964444275497/posts/default/4063224350225560258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nivedita-myworld.blogspot.com/2007/04/alas.html' title='ALAS!'/><author><name>nivedita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06156873585085679828</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_AcUsF9hB0UY/Rhb3hzMCPBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/3KGyCdHdkBU/s72-c/CABZDRC1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry></feed>
