tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6536316825672482422024-03-13T07:52:33.369-07:00Pen DownPranav Mukulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498875885941821306noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-653631682567248242.post-79733919211247102482011-04-10T11:14:00.000-07:002011-04-10T12:06:07.707-07:00A Girl I Love<span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3261/2631137544_8ed69cef5f.jpg"><br /></a><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >"Where there is the greatest love, there are always miracles."</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >- </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >Willa Cather</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >In the beginning I didn't know what was happening with me because</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" > </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >it was the beginning when everything happened. Whether it was love or a miracle, I still don't know. The first time I saw her, she saw me too. Straight in the eyes</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >. </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >And it was that very moment it happened. Love? Miracle? I really don't know. She walked towards me, carrying herself in a composed way. A bit professionally but I was staring at her like an angel came down on earth. I knew nothing of what she was talking about because I only kept on staring and staring and staring. When she left I didn't know whether we would meet again or not. I refrained myself from thinking about her but James Blunt kept playing in my head, <span style="font-style: italic;">"My life is brilliant. My love is pure. I saw an angel. Of that I'm sure..."</span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" > </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">It took another month for destiny to make us meet again. I saw her daily but she didn't. She was scared, of the world around her. She was lonely in herself. It was like the world against her. But I was selfish; more than all this what I saw was her prettiness. I would lose a breath, skip a beat. Destiny on the other hand was lazing around. She took a few more months to open the gates of my expressiveness. I wonder if it was a deliberate slow play of destiny. Eventually I started to talk to her only to realize that she was altogether in a different world. This was the time, I almost gave up on her. But no! We were destined to happen and we happened. Since we happened it has always been we instead of I and me. Someone said that it's the luckiest honour to be loved by someone you love. And yes, she loved me too.<br /><br /><br /></span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">The happiest days of my life were just about to begin, 1+1=3 had just happened. Somehow, it was still the world against her but this time I was with her. Not surprisingly though, I was just loving my new side. I thought I'd change with her and this was something I feared. But I never knew that it was eventually going to be really great. As we started the journey together, one big problem I found in her was her inability to express. She would only express her angst she had with the world who was standing against her. But I would never know that I'm being loved as I'm a person who needs to be reminded every now and then. Although, this pain was only short lived. She was only unable to express through words and I realized it only lately about her ways of expression. The way she smiles at me, the way she looks at me when in trouble, the way she holds my hand, the way she laughs when with me, the way she talks to me endlessly as if it's our last day on earth (the fact being that I still don't listen and keep on staring and staring and staring), etc. are only few of her ways to express her love for me.<br /><br /><br /></span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Every so often, I ponder whether we'll be there with each other for life or not and I remember how slowly destiny played while getting us together. One thing I always lacked was confidence in myself and for this my angel has been paying all along. I knew she loved me but couldn't believe myself. And this, created turbulence between me and her. And these were the times it again became me and her from we and us. Such times came and went and will still come and I know they'll go. Only thing I pray to god is that my angel be held by my side on any such occasions.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">It took me nine months to realize what it is all about. It took me nine months to realize that this girl was my miracle and it was love. She, being, </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">a girl I love.<br /><br /><br /><br /></span><a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3261/2631137544_8ed69cef5f.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 362px; height: 362px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3261/2631137544_8ed69cef5f.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div>Pranav Mukulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498875885941821306noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-653631682567248242.post-57351453918054113642010-12-01T19:54:00.000-08:002010-12-01T20:46:52.280-08:00It was a Re-BirthDo you believe in re-births? You might not but I do. Being a sensitive person at heart, "friends" doing so much on my 19th birthday is surely to knock me down. Everyone knows I'm a loner and my loneliness has been cut down very very recently and I thank god for that. But like all other birthdays, I hoped to spend this one alone considering the fact that I'm no more between my family. All was going well as expected. I got "myself" a couple of pastries and was celebrating with "myself" as my sister called up. Talking, talking, pastry eating. Suddenly, DHAP happens and door opens. Entered the last people I expected on this earth to turn up. Abhinandan, Vedansh, Arpan,, Ahmar, Kunal and Divesh.<br /><br />Abhi left me a tweet mention at about 2300 hours saying he might not survive till midnight. Vedansh and I were in a spat and weren't even on talking terms. Kunal and Divesh must surely have had other priorities and Arpan and Ahmar mustn't have known my birthday at all. But Bazinga! They came. I was taken aback! And as I cut the various cakes they brought, I couldn't stop smiling. Some of the best things were happening in my life. And they were just happening, I wasn't making them happen. A couple of calls at the night and I couldn't hold myself. It does happen every year. It's just one day but people make you feel so special but then it's just one day, isn't it? I removed my birthday from my facebook just to see how many people would remember or rather care to know when my birthday is. Many people came up with unexpected results, both good and bad.<br /><br />The day came, morning. College! People had actually got me gifts, memorabilia. A ball and a greeting card from Nitasha, a <span style="font-style: italic;">Pineapple </span>from Avani (this one's got a story) and a lovely Tee from Hita. I couldn't help but smiling all day. I called for a treat at. as always anticipated, CadB. 18 of the handpicked people I've met at SIMC. All of them who have stood by me at some point in a dismay. Caused a complete ballyhoo there, I was just loving it. Another thing that came up unexpectedly was a mug. I had imagined one for Abhi's birthday but he was a step ahead and I was born 4 months ahead of him so can't blame anyone. A mug with a picture of mines and a text on it. All ended at CadB on a wonderful note.<br /><br />Next I had another great dinner lined up with three of the best people I currently have with me. With all the three loving me. Three people defying mathematics to sum up 1+1=3. That turned out to be the best dinner of my life till date. A day full of unexpected realities.<br /><br />I could just sing myself the Green Day song:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">It's something unpredictable<br />but in the end it's right.<br />I hope you had the time of your life.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span></span>No wonder it was the official entry to the last year of my teenage and hence called for a huge celebration which was there but more than that, it was a step away from a being I know and a step forward towards a person I don't know.<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span><br /></span><br />Any doubts? Was it anything but a rebirth?Pranav Mukulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498875885941821306noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-653631682567248242.post-49208907726354920332010-09-08T12:22:00.000-07:002010-10-17T09:19:12.565-07:00Eye of the Tiger-Sai Drishti<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6e4rOjPDKxslDcU6WdhsJ9tM8rl3j9_aHg3d2bKr63ahLUDALFCL9o2T1NuJLdoxbrXvEnA3iXqoox7OpF6vgkyNFiVzHLahhfCiNSqiq8Tq3km5SRY2WvlAxLYiyJp_VIauejDSkYLE/s1600/DSCN1107.JPG"><br /></a><br />The name is Sai Drishti but the eyesight is of someone with a tiger's eyes. Well, those who live at Sai Drishti and have lived here must be quite aware with this personality. But, nevertheless, let me not start with talking about Mishra<span style="font-style: italic;">ji.<br /></span><br />Aamir Khan<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>in<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>one of his advertisements said, "<span style="font-style: italic;">Doosron ki galati se kya seekhna(</span>what to learn from others experiences)<span style="font-style: italic;">, make your own mistakes." </span>That's what everyone staying here at Sai Drishti is doing and we've made our mistakes i.e. paid that lumpsome amount which was heralded as the cheapest in the locality by college officials. *Ahem*<br />Any senior/super senior if ask us about our dwelling and we reply "Sai Drishti", the reply we get is an evil smirk. These smirks aren't only from the people who have experienced this plight but also the people who've experienced the dwellers experience this plight.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6e4rOjPDKxslDcU6WdhsJ9tM8rl3j9_aHg3d2bKr63ahLUDALFCL9o2T1NuJLdoxbrXvEnA3iXqoox7OpF6vgkyNFiVzHLahhfCiNSqiq8Tq3km5SRY2WvlAxLYiyJp_VIauejDSkYLE/s1600/DSCN1107.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6e4rOjPDKxslDcU6WdhsJ9tM8rl3j9_aHg3d2bKr63ahLUDALFCL9o2T1NuJLdoxbrXvEnA3iXqoox7OpF6vgkyNFiVzHLahhfCiNSqiq8Tq3km5SRY2WvlAxLYiyJp_VIauejDSkYLE/s400/DSCN1107.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529050248255988578" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The biggest problem at Sai Drishti is absence of two things: Water and Security.<br /><br />Water-wow, one of my classmates recently stated, "Dude, no internet is okay! But no water is pathetic!" The time exactly when there is absence of water is when everyone's bums are covered with crap or bodies covered with soap.<br /><br />Security-this is arguably the worst part of Sai Drishti. I mean, actually, where is Sai ki Drishti? From money to irons to hot-plates to phone-chargers to the latest (hold your breathe) "CUPBOARDS", things are being flicked off like they're being shop-lifted. Who does it? You? No? I just wonder what does the tiger does all day in the den when all his prey is being mauled by Mr. Anupam Siddhartha and his counterparts.<br /><br />Okay! That was the empty part of the glass. Now let me tell you about the half full part. This is my first time I've stayed out of home on a long term basis all by myself. I couldn't have survived for sure without the people who've been here to support me.<br /><br />Kunal and Divesh: The first two people I met here at Sai Drishti. As stated before problem with our batch is that many people are from D<span style="font-style: italic;">E</span>LL-EE. But both these guys have carried on their city's legacy and kept it the <span style="font-style: italic;">Dil waalon ki Dilli.</span> Always there when you need them. Any hour of the day. Any place in the world. Kunal is one smart PR guy, so I need to beware of him. Jokes apart, he's a sweetheart. Divesh is one pragmatic guy but still a kiddo. One thing I don't like about these guys is the time spent with me. Very less as compared to what we initially used to. But then it's natural, you go out, meet new people and the old ones slowly fizz out. So cheers to you guys.<br /><br />Bala: My roomie. He's what we call a big guy. I don't know much about him because he hardly stays in the room. Thanks to him for that, I enjoy my private space. I still wonder why do B.B.A. guys have so much fun. He is the guy who lives on the principle of "Live and Let Live", which many of us fail to adhere to. Chilled out guy.<br /><br />Abhinandan: Last but not the least, imitator, friend and the cool dude. He'll imitate everyone possible and do it with versatility. I came to college and had some hormonal changes. I would have been in deep trouble if I'd have let my mind wander around chicks. This Kommander guided me and asked me to stay away from such violent and freaky creatures. And I owe him big time for that. Keeps preaching his ideologies every now and then and manages to take everyone's attention with his funny bone. According to my research and observations he's the 2nd most dangerous silent assassin after Chatur. Nevertheless, I can term him my best friend around here in Pune. Thanks for the fun dude.<br /><br />Infact, thanks to all you guys for anything and everything we've managed at Sai Drishti. We may move around somewhere else next year but still I hope we maintain the same bondage we've had in this competitive world.<br /><br />Cheers to All!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span>Pranav Mukulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498875885941821306noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-653631682567248242.post-21302497007156305152010-08-28T12:55:00.000-07:002010-08-28T13:39:21.773-07:00Culturally Booked!I'm a Punjabi but born and brought up in Gujarat. So, what's my culture? Which one do I belong to? I have an assignment where in I need to get atleast five artefacts of any of these cultures. May it be the culture of Gujarat or Punjab but that is one thing the world wide web doesn't care about. Or rather should I follow Mohan Sinha's words and go behind the story? Frankly, I'm not <span style="font-style: italic;">vella </span>enough to do that.<br /><br />There must be half a dozen Punjabis in my class who obviously chose to dig the Punjabi culture. Out of the 1 million artefacts that the Punjabi culture could be boasting about the half a dozen Punjabis have probably gone for number of the artefacts which is half their strength. Thence, I chose to go for Gujarati artefacts. One more reason to it is; one of my teachers advised me before I came here to think and do everything what no one else's doing. Experiment new things, don't follow others. But I assume there are some 3-4 Gujjus in my class plus a 3-4 Non-Gujjus who'd like to do a Gujju, so that again brings it to half a dozen Gujju assignments but then there are other reasons as well as to why I chose to go for my birth-place instead of my native-place.<br /><br />One of the most important being this: My teacher tells me, poke your parents, grandparents, etc. I do but couldn't find anything. Gujarati culture is so not-intriguing anyone that people residing since more than 60 years are unable to have proper recognition. This arouses my curious-self! Damnit, I want to do this one now. I go upto the next best thing. My Gujju friends and hark! Now I am into something, names of artefacts galore but still the world wide web isn't interested. That puts me into a dilemma. I again go think about Punjabi culture<br /><br />My family members certainly give me a bundle full of information about Punjabi culture and artefacts. This, that, blah blah! There's just too much for a guy like me who suffers indecisiveness syndrome. But then, it's very easy to go for the Punjabi culture. I can do it and throw it aside.<br /><br />So, what to choose? Birth-Place or Native-Place? The suspense still stays. Wait upto monday to know!<br />:)Pranav Mukulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498875885941821306noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-653631682567248242.post-5813349560420368492010-08-22T04:21:00.000-07:002010-08-22T04:34:11.915-07:00square root of threethis is a common and seen before poem..<br /><br />but it still strikes my heart like ever before..<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;" >I fear that I will always be</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;" >A lonely number like root three.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;" >A three is all that's good and right,<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;" >Why must my three keep out of sight?</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;" >Beneath a vicious square root sign,</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;" >I wish instead I were a nine;</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;" >For nine could thwart this evil trick,</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;" >with just some quick arithmetic.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;" >I know I'll never see the sun, as 1.7321</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;" >Such is my reality, a sad irrationality.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;" >When hark! What is this I see,</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;" >Another square root of a three</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;" >Has quietly come waltzing by,</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;" >Together now we multiply</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;" >To form a number we prefer,</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;" >Rejoicing as an integer.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;" >We break free from our mortal bonds;</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;" >And with a wave of magic wands,</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;" >Our square root signs become unglued</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:webdings;font-size:130%;" >And my love for you has been renewed.</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVN2m6N89RtSIbYeHoWLplFCAK_n1GhPm6p6Oj5eFxSZOo-AQHP0b-WGOJJwrg4GFL9k26isnZCVWYvxRjVNAMdlgwjKIrLMBnkyK94cDQM4kBGi9nmkAiBHFfkQHgIZNfu_Zc7cIDVQw/s200/square+root+of+three.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVN2m6N89RtSIbYeHoWLplFCAK_n1GhPm6p6Oj5eFxSZOo-AQHP0b-WGOJJwrg4GFL9k26isnZCVWYvxRjVNAMdlgwjKIrLMBnkyK94cDQM4kBGi9nmkAiBHFfkQHgIZNfu_Zc7cIDVQw/s200/square+root+of+three.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Pranav Mukulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498875885941821306noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-653631682567248242.post-87586327714927695262010-08-22T00:16:00.000-07:002010-08-22T05:32:56.645-07:00*CLICK*<span style="font-size:100%;">CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK!<br /><br />That's all what photography means to amateur photographers. I observe three types of photographers in my perspective. See and shoot types, see observe and shoot types and how much will it for be and shoot types. I don't know the difference because I'm not a photographer, I'm an observer. I like seeing photographs. But what is a photograph actually? Just a medium of explaining someone a real situation virtually? Or anything else?<br /><br />I was seeing a friend's album today. When I see this friend for real, I perceive different things about her and when I saw her pics, I perceived altogether a different world of hers. To be honest her photographs revealed more than anything about her lifestyle and nature more than I could derive when standing with her.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">A photograph does wonders sometimes. It speaks truth. Whenever I stare into the lens the true me comes out. I can fake myself when in front of you but I can't do it while looking into the camera. Looking in the lens is like looking in someone's eyes, noone can fool while looking directly into someone's eyes. Yes, some people can. Those who can with ease and versatility are those to whom the Oscar goes to.</span><br /><br />Why do I talk about photography? Only because I have joined a Media School? But I'm far away from photography and visual communication. I didn't ever care to wonder how people get the sense to convert a photograph into the valuable green paper! As a layman I feel lack of aesthetics in an pocket filling photograph. But that's again my perception, no hard feelings to any photographers. Despite that perception I think a good photographer is the one who carries his camera to anywhere and everywhere possible because things happen in a spur of a moment and such moments are meant to be captured for people like me to enjoy.<br /><br />Last type of photographers I've come across are the ones I'm most intrigued with:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I'm your biggest fan,<br />I'll follow you until you love me,<br />Papa-Paparazzi....<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpK_BcliO_xIzc5qoEaSabPCB1dUbdp2kLxqLd2yNugPaNEYtrB93mI1bgTAIREYMeF7l7hrwMTRrmv0Ry_qL5mRNiYQ1NA4mqeURc9Ns6LHZKCVzvDHmGYTkjPqhnwUlnNqqztg1nPpk/s1600/DSCN1081.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpK_BcliO_xIzc5qoEaSabPCB1dUbdp2kLxqLd2yNugPaNEYtrB93mI1bgTAIREYMeF7l7hrwMTRrmv0Ry_qL5mRNiYQ1NA4mqeURc9Ns6LHZKCVzvDHmGYTkjPqhnwUlnNqqztg1nPpk/s400/DSCN1081.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508147172367874354" border="0" /></a>Pranav Mukulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498875885941821306noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-653631682567248242.post-13575897041686991522010-02-01T20:42:00.001-08:002011-05-22T02:42:02.869-07:00Ich bin ein Brother!<span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I am a Brother</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >-says the German title of this blog;<br /><br />But, I really need to think if I really am! In my first post, I said that this blog is meant out to bring out all the feelings from my heart. So here it goes....</span><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Life has given me two of the best gifts it could have given me-My two soul-sisters. Please don't mind if I don't mention their name because I'm just a bit too more than possessive about them and who would declare their possession in public.</span></div><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">As I said, they were life's lagniappe to me, and, maybe I took them for granted. That's where I really had to ask myself, "Am I really a brother?" </span></div><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">But I know, my conscience is evident, I was strong on holding them to myself else all of it would have gone in a blur. When you meet new people, it is obvious for the older ones to be left out as the new ones might always sound more tintinnabulating and interest you. Even I was caught in this trap and maybe was about to get rid of some old deeds and old needs of mine and sometimes of my own greeds I would have left my sisters as well! My sisters which are a great pride for me today would've been just a vestige in my life.</span></div><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Daily would I give up and tell myself, "Enough! Leave it now, they don't care about you." But myself wouldn't hear, he was implacable! He said, "You don't yet know them, they're the best friends I've had, whatever they do, they'll always be there when I need them." The freak inside would tell me,"All is crap! You'll see the effect of your stubbornness soon." I replied, "Soon is going to come not very soon."</span></div><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">My sisters are my world and the world is evident, the mildest, drowsiest sister has been known to turn into a tiger when her sibling is in trouble. All these things made me a sycophant and I started grueling for ego. Another place where I asked myself, "Am I really a brother?"</span><br /><br />Sometimes it feels better to be a brother than to be a super-hero, I don't wish to be a super-hero but I do wish to try and be the best brother in the world and this wish, this feeling, makes me say to myself,</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span><div style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;font-size:100%;" ><b><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">"</span></span></b><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Ich bin ein Brother."</span></span></b></i></span></div><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" ><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2eALCsI2I2oJ-UbA02RVqoILRk70PG58repdE6fqm4xPge833JtRGMuBVJ8zWUQ09QcbnjQkhxhwRwYJ49uf7xS_pVOfXqBqOZHwAsqbIVKoc5oUyEENPVdz3qIjgIYqiv714cH-FPkU/s320/autism_siblings_1221.jpg" style="text-align: left; float: right; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 209px;" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433541646235221954" border="0" /></span>Pranav Mukulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498875885941821306noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-653631682567248242.post-7554341977309129922008-05-25T22:16:00.000-07:002010-02-01T20:42:04.850-08:00A brother and a Life..<div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" ><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Well, this is supposed to be my first blog, which is meant to bring out all the feelings out of my heart. So, I'd like to start this one with someone very very near to me yet not as near to feel.<br /></span></span></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">Meowth, to start with; he was the being most near to me, one most attached to me, and the thing that mattered me was not only he being important to me but me being of same importance to him. Billu, as my dad called him was golden in colour, striped all over. His hands and feet were absolutely milky white depicting as he was wearing gloves over them. He was indeed beautiful; no words in my mind could ever define his beauty and gratitude to the Almighty for gifting him to me.<br /><br /><br />16th August 2003, I was sitting on my table doing my homework for my classes which i had to attend at 7 P.M.. It was Saturday, mom had come back home early from her bank as Saturdays are meant to be half working days. It was about 5 in the evening, when my younger sister shouted, "Bhaiya, see Meowth!". I and she were on a "Pokemon" cartoon addiction those days, and a character named Meowth used to be there; so it was instant for her to name him Meowth.<br /><br />Mom told us that he was given birth in a Cupboard at her workplace; his mother took all his siblings away but he was left there alone. As i mentioned before that it was a Saturday and a half working day, the banks had to be shut down early that day. It was followed by a Sunday which was again meant to be a holiday. Mom thought a bit philanthropically: What if two days his mother wouldn't come here to take him this small being of one day would die to hunger. So, she brought him home.<br /><br />"Meow, Meow, Meow!", this was something we had to hear all evening that day. I missed doing my homework for him. We kept him in a bird cage we used to keep a parrot, but this being did not stop chirping. Though it seemed to be cute sometimes, it even started getting on to our head and we got irritated. I asked my teacher that day,"Sir, how should i feed him, of course it has to be milk for he is just one-day old, but how do i make things easy ?". He suggested me to use a dropper for feeding him.<br /><br />I went home at about 8 P.M.. We usually had a notion that such small animals couldn't survive unless they are treated under certain satisfactory conditions. So, first question when i went home and asked mom was,"Is he still alive?", and fortunately a positive reply came back."Where is he?" was my second questi</span></span></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">on. He had been kept in my room, and it was a start of a really great relationship.</span></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDXSziW7M8oDh_q9bVWZESwaQ4VPwGIeLZyUVuWN4WEBt0wLIfbcp31U89iWWFzRabm9uWLYMDrjVZXFVMCAuIKan9Nt0ma27zJJsSTnEFENgHhRxjH6myLsIVxbfQO0r2XXFpHzSrwIc/s1600-h/A32.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDXSziW7M8oDh_q9bVWZESwaQ4VPwGIeLZyUVuWN4WEBt0wLIfbcp31U89iWWFzRabm9uWLYMDrjVZXFVMCAuIKan9Nt0ma27zJJsSTnEFENgHhRxjH6myLsIVxbfQO0r2XXFpHzSrwIc/s320/A32.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204564318862322930" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"> I said to my mother what had come to my knowledge by my teacher and also i brought a dropper from a Chemistry kit i used to own in those days for pass time. First milk, First feed to Meowth was again by me, which was another step of trust for that little being on me.<br /><br />Those little little arms, those little little eyes, legs, a beautiful tail: it was enough for me to fall in love with him. I finally had someone whom i had been waiting for since quite a long time; "<span style="font-weight: bold;">A Brother and a life" </span><br /><br /></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><br /><br /></span><br /></span></span></span></span>Pranav Mukulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16498875885941821306noreply@blogger.com14