<?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-35345258</id><updated>2011-10-03T20:07:23.753+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Truly Madly Deeply</title><subtitle type='html'>Change is the only Constant thing in this World.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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>78</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-4143044911478853277</id><published>2011-10-03T20:02:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2011-10-03T20:07:23.892+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Conquer you Weakness</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h1hb-dsST1s/TonIYiGRGPI/AAAAAAAAEcg/u3a6M7Nmxbs/s1600/judo.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h1hb-dsST1s/TonIYiGRGPI/AAAAAAAAEcg/u3a6M7Nmxbs/s320/judo.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659274730563246322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;This is a story of one 10-year-old boy who decided to study judo despite the fact that he had lost his left arm in a devastating car accident.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The boy began lessons with an old Japanese judo master. The boy was doing well, so he couldn’t understand why, after three months of training, the master had taught him only one move. “Sensei,” the boy finally said, “Shouldn’t I be learning more moves?”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“This is the only move you know, but this is the only move you’ll ever need to know,” the Sensei replied. Not quite understanding, but believing in his teacher, the boy kept training.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Several months later, the Sensei took the boy to his first tournament. Surprising himself, the boy easily won his first two matches. The third match proved to be more difficult, but after some time, his opponent became impatient and charged; the boy deftly used his one move to win the match. Still amazed by his success, the boy was now in the finals.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;This time, his opponent was bigger, stronger, and more experienced. For a while, the boy appeared to be overmatched. Concerned that the boy might get hurt, the referee called a time-out. He was about to stop the match when the Sensei intervened. “No,” the Sensei insisted, “Let him continue.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Soon after the match resumed, his opponent made a critical mistake: he dropped his guard. Instantly, the boy used his move to pin him. The boy had won the match and the tournament. He was the champion.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;On the way home, the boy and Sensei reviewed every move in each and every match. Then the boy summoned the courage to ask what was really on his mind. “Sensei, how did I win the tournament with only one move?”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“You won for two reasons,” the Sensei answered. “First, you’ve almost mastered one of the most difficult throws in all of judo. And second, the only known defense for that move is for your opponent to grab your left arm.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The boy’s greatest weakness had become his greatest strength.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-4143044911478853277?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/4143044911478853277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=4143044911478853277&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/4143044911478853277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/4143044911478853277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2011/10/conquer-you-weakness.html' title='Conquer you Weakness'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h1hb-dsST1s/TonIYiGRGPI/AAAAAAAAEcg/u3a6M7Nmxbs/s72-c/judo.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-9122485916857884420</id><published>2011-10-03T19:55:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-10-03T20:01:16.674+05:30</updated><title type='text'>How to Succeed in Work and in Career</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H5Q9-jmHPpU/TonHEDW0RuI/AAAAAAAAEcY/f05Xf7kXFhY/s1600/career_man.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H5Q9-jmHPpU/TonHEDW0RuI/AAAAAAAAEcY/f05Xf7kXFhY/s320/career_man.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659273279202150114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Don’t talk negatively about people behind their backs. If you gossip, people won’t confide in you. Mind your own business. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Try to work for someone who’ll challenge your powers. You’ll learn more in a year than 4 years of college. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Successful bosses have good communication skills. They learn from people, including their employees. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Work in such a way that makes your boss look good. It’s not flattery. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. On downsizing, the first to go are those with few friends. Bosses prefer competent people whom they respect. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Dress for the job you want, not the one you have. Let your dress reflect professionalism. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Workout to get in good physical shape. Unless exceptionally skilled, the unhealthy are at a comparative disadvantage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Personal integrity is crucial. Tell nothing but the truth. Bosses can forgive mistakes but if you lie, you’re gone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Be on time. Try to arrive few minutes early. It saves you from stress. You’ll be much relaxed &amp; work better. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Strive your best to keep a deadline. If you cannot meet it, then apologize &amp; ask for an extension&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Don’t take things personally. If some people are unhappy with you, it’s their problem. But always strive to give your best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. If you must correct someone, don’t get personal about it. Do it never in front of others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Spend some time alone everyday. What’s the mission of my life? What do I want to be? And how to go about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. As you move along Plan A of your career, maintain a Plan B as well — an alternative course to rely&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Always remember that the secret of success is passion. Always think big. Spread love &amp; joy. You’ll have blissful years ahead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-9122485916857884420?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/9122485916857884420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=9122485916857884420&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/9122485916857884420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/9122485916857884420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2011/10/how-to-succeed-in-work-and-in-career.html' title='How to Succeed in Work and in Career'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H5Q9-jmHPpU/TonHEDW0RuI/AAAAAAAAEcY/f05Xf7kXFhY/s72-c/career_man.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-2949363130824768895</id><published>2011-09-07T18:05:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-09-07T18:07:36.106+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Puppies for Sale</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MgGLCy865h0/TmdlgAlCQ0I/AAAAAAAAEcQ/5Oa_6pOFqMU/s1600/Cutest-Puppies3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MgGLCy865h0/TmdlgAlCQ0I/AAAAAAAAEcQ/5Oa_6pOFqMU/s320/Cutest-Puppies3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649595858145133378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell. He painted a sign advertising the pups and set about nailing it to a post on the edge of his yard. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he was driving the last nail into the post, he felt a tug on his overalls. He looked down into the Eyes of a little boy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mister", he said, "I want to buy one of your puppies."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well", said the farmer, as he rubbed the sweat off the back of his neck, "these puppies come from fine parents and cost a good deal of money."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy dropped his head for a moment. Then reaching deep into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of change and held it up to the farmer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I've got thirty-nine cents. Is that enough to take a look."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sure", said the farmer. And with that he let out a whistle, Here, Dolly! he called.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out from the doghouse and down the ramp ran Dolly followed by four little balls of fur. The little boy pressed his face against the chain link fence. His eyes danced with delight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the dogs made their way to the fence, the little boy noticed something else stirring inside the doghouse. Slowly another little ball appeared; this one noticeably smaller. Down the ramp it slid. Then in a somewhat awkward manner the little pup began hobbling toward the others, doing its best to catch up...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I want that one", the little boy said, pointing to the runt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The farmer knelt down at the boy's side and said, "Son, you don't want that puppy. He will never be able to run and play with you like these other dogs would."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that the little boy stepped back from the fence, reached down, and began rolling up one leg of his trousers. In doing so he revealed a steel brace running down both sides of his leg attaching itself To a specially made shoe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking back up at the farmer, he said, "You see sir, I don't run too well myself, and he will need someone who understands."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world is full of people who need someone who understands. Are you there for them?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-2949363130824768895?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/2949363130824768895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=2949363130824768895&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/2949363130824768895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/2949363130824768895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2011/09/puppies-for-sale.html' title='Puppies for Sale'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MgGLCy865h0/TmdlgAlCQ0I/AAAAAAAAEcQ/5Oa_6pOFqMU/s72-c/Cutest-Puppies3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-7225333456603706422</id><published>2011-03-22T02:51:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-03-22T02:54:58.426+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Don't be conditioned to Lost</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-POISw8BTQXg/TYfCDsiArXI/AAAAAAAAEXo/R_SVkXLXFZI/s1600/golden-eagle_chicks.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 227px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-POISw8BTQXg/TYfCDsiArXI/AAAAAAAAEXo/R_SVkXLXFZI/s320/golden-eagle_chicks.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586647231525596530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An eagle's egg was placed in the nest of a prairie chicken. The egg hatched and the little eagle grew up thinking it was a prairie chicken. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The eagle did what the prairie chickens did. It scratched in the dirt for seeds. It clucked and cackled. It never flew more than a few feet because that is what the prairie chickens did. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day he saw an eagle flying gracefully and majestically in the open sky. He asked the prairie chickens: "What is that beautiful bird?" The chickens replied, "That is an eagle. He is an outstanding bird, but you cannot fly like him because you are just a prairie chicken." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the eagle never gave it a second thought, believing that to be the truth. He lived the life of and died a prairie chicken, depriving himself of his heritage because of his lack of vision. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a waste! He was born to win, but was conditioned to lose. Do not let people or situations or even yourself condition you to lose in life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-7225333456603706422?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/7225333456603706422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=7225333456603706422&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/7225333456603706422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/7225333456603706422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2011/03/dont-be-conditioned-to-lost.html' title='Don&apos;t be conditioned to Lost'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/-POISw8BTQXg/TYfCDsiArXI/AAAAAAAAEXo/R_SVkXLXFZI/s72-c/golden-eagle_chicks.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-1722384847506145938</id><published>2011-03-18T20:10:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2011-03-18T20:14:17.827+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Bus Passenger</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i0637ZgMmdw/TYNvrUME20I/AAAAAAAAEXg/k3yT2H0RFrA/s1600/Bus%2BPassenger.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i0637ZgMmdw/TYNvrUME20I/AAAAAAAAEXg/k3yT2H0RFrA/s320/Bus%2BPassenger.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585430752813964098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The passengers on the bus watched sympathetically as the attractive young woman with the white cane made her way carefully up the steps. She paid the driver and, using her hands to feel the location of the seats, walked down the aisle and found the seat he'd told her was empty. Then she settled in, placed her briefcase on her lap and rested her cane against her leg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It had been a year since Susan, thirty-four, became blind. Due to a medical misdiagnosis she had been rendered sightless, and she was suddenly thrown into a world of darkness, anger, frustration and self-pity. Once a fiercely independent woman, Susan now felt condemned by this terrible twist of fate to become a powerless, helpless burden on everyone around her. "How could this have happened to me?" she would plead, her heart knotted with anger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But no matter how much she cried or ranted or prayed, she knew the painful truth her sight was never going to return. A cloud of depression hung over Susan's once optimistic spirit. Just getting through each day was an exercise in frustration and exhaustion. And all she had to cling to was her husband Mark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mark was an Air Force officer and he loved Susan with all of his heart. When she first lost her sight, he watched her sink into despair and was determined to help his wife gain the strength and confidence she needed to become independent again. Mark's military background had trained him well to deal with sensitive situations, and yet he knew this was the most difficult battle he would ever face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, Susan felt ready to return to her job, but how would she get there? She used to take the bus, but was now too frightened to get around the city by herself. Mark volunteered to drive her to work each day, even though they worked at opposite ends of the city.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first, this comforted Susan and fulfilled Mark's need to protect his sightless wife who was so insecure about performing the slightest task. Soon, however, Mark realized that this arrangement wasn't working - it was hectic, and costly. Susan is going to have to start taking the bus again, he admitted to himself. But just the thought of mentioning it to her made him cringe. She was still so fragile, so angry. How would she react?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as Mark predicted, Susan was horrified at the idea of taking the bus again. "I'm blind!" she responded bitterly. "How am I supposed to know where I'm going? I feel like you're abandoning me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mark's heart broke to hear these words, but he knew what had to be done. He promised Susan that each morning and evening he would ride the bus with her, for as long as it took, until she got the hang of it. And that is exactly what happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For two solid weeks, Mark, military uniform and all, accompanied Susan to and from work each day. He taught her how to rely on her other senses, specifically her hearing, to determine where she was and how to adapt to her new environment. He helped her befriend the bus drivers who could watch out for her, and save her a seat. He made her laugh, even on those not-so-good days when she would trip exiting the bus, or drop her briefcase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each morning they made the journey together, and Mark would take a cab back to his office. Although this routine was even more costly and exhausting than the previous one, Mark knew it was only a matter of time before Susan would be able to ride the bus on her own. He believed in her, in the Susan he used to know before she'd lost her sight, who wasn't afraid of any challenge and who would never, ever quit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, Susan decided that she was ready to try the trip on her own. Monday morning arrived, and before she left, she threw her arms around Mark, her temporary bus riding companion, her husband, and her best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her eyes filled with tears of gratitude for his loyalty, his patience, his love. She said good-bye, and for the first time, they went their separate ways. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday... Each day on her own went perfectly, and Susan had never felt better. She was doing it! She was going to work all by herself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Friday morning, Susan took the bus to work as usual. As she was paying for her fare to exit the bus, the driver said, "Boy, I sure envy you." Susan wasn't sure if the driver was speaking to her or not. After all, who on earth would ever envy a blind woman who had struggled just to find the courage to live for the past year?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Curious, she asked the driver, "Why do you say that you envy me?" The driver responded, "It must feel so good to be taken care of and protected like you are." Susan had no idea what the driver was talking about, and asked again, "What do you mean?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The driver answered, "You know, every morning for the past week, a fine looking gentleman in a military uniform has been standing across the corner watching you when you get off the bus. He makes sure you cross the street safely and he watches you until you enter your office building. Then he blows you a kiss, gives you a little salute and walks away. You are one lucky lady."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tears of happiness poured down Susan's cheeks. For although she couldn't physically see him, she had always felt Mark's presence. She was lucky, so lucky, for he had given her a gift more powerful than sight, a gift she didn't need to see to believe - the gift of love that can bring light where there had been darkness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-1722384847506145938?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/1722384847506145938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=1722384847506145938&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/1722384847506145938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/1722384847506145938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2011/03/bus-passenger.html' title='The Bus Passenger'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i0637ZgMmdw/TYNvrUME20I/AAAAAAAAEXg/k3yT2H0RFrA/s72-c/Bus%2BPassenger.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-812072812518728239</id><published>2011-01-03T21:50:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-01-03T21:50:58.553+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Two Wolves</title><content type='html'>One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said, "My son, the battle is between 2 wolves inside us all."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather Which wolf wins?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-812072812518728239?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/812072812518728239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=812072812518728239&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/812072812518728239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/812072812518728239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2011/01/two-wolves.html' title='Two Wolves'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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-35345258.post-1347874330057833690</id><published>2010-11-24T01:49:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-11-24T01:54:00.459+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I Love You!</title><content type='html'>There was once a guy who suffered from cancer... a cancer that can't be treated. He was 18 years old and he could die anytime. All his life, he was stuck in his house being taken cared by his mother. He never went outside but he was sick of staying home and wanted to go out for once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he asked his mother and she gave him permission. He walked down his block and found a lot of stores. He passed a CD store and looked through the front door for a second as he walked. He stopped and went back to look into the store. He saw a young girl about his age and he knew it was love at first sight. He opened the door and walked in, not looking at anything else but her. He walked closer and closer until he was finally at the front desk where she sat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked up and asked "Can I help you?" She smiled and he thought it was the most beautiful smile he has ever seen before and wanted to kiss her right there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said "Uh... Yeah... Umm... I would like to buy a CD." He picked one out and gave her money for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Would you like me to wrap it for you?" she asked, smiling her cute smile again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He nodded and she went to the back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She came back with the wrapped CD and gave it to him. He took it and walked out of the store. He went home and from then on, he went to that store everyday and bought a CD, and she wrapped it for him. He took the CD home and put it in his closet. He was still too shy to ask her out and he really wanted to but he couldn't. His mother found out about this and told him to just ask her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the next day, he took all his courage and went to the store. He bought a CD like he did everyday and once again she went to the back of the store and came back with it wrapped. He took it and when she wasn't looking, he left his phone number on the desk and ran out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RRRRRING!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mother picked up the phone and said, "Hello?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the girl!!! She asked for the boy and the mother started to cry and said, "You don't know? He passed away yesterday..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The line was quiet except for the cries of the boy's mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later in the day, the mother went into the boy's room because she wanted to remember him. She thought she would start by looking at his clothes. So she opened the closet. She was face to face with piles and piles and piles of unopened CDs. She was surprised to find all those CDs and she picked one up and sat down on the bed and she started to open one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inside, there was a CD and as she took it out of the wrapper, out fell a piece of paper. The mother picked it up and started to read it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It said: Hi... I think U R really cute. Do u wanna go out with me? Love, Jacelyn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mother opened another CD...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again there was a piece of paper. It said: Hi... I think U R really cute. Do u wanna go out with me? Love, Jacelyn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is... when you've had a huge fight but then decide to put aside your egos, hold hands and say, "I Love You . . . "&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-1347874330057833690?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/1347874330057833690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=1347874330057833690&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/1347874330057833690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/1347874330057833690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-love-you.html' title='I Love You!'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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-35345258.post-8354770947866888658</id><published>2010-10-30T01:01:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-10-30T01:04:16.556+05:30</updated><title type='text'>First Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/TMshq2c1DqI/AAAAAAAAD2U/Ssy2fCHqHGU/s1600/First_Love_at_a_glance.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 189px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/TMshq2c1DqI/AAAAAAAAD2U/Ssy2fCHqHGU/s320/First_Love_at_a_glance.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533553587209440930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-8354770947866888658?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/8354770947866888658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=8354770947866888658&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/8354770947866888658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/8354770947866888658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2010/10/first-love.html' title='First Love'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/TMshq2c1DqI/AAAAAAAAD2U/Ssy2fCHqHGU/s72-c/First_Love_at_a_glance.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-1788603831322182936</id><published>2010-07-22T20:48:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-07-22T20:51:19.214+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Two Babies...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/TEhhtIT1NJI/AAAAAAAADu0/9nFp48Q5nBA/s1600/two-babies-sleeping-54s.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/TEhhtIT1NJI/AAAAAAAADu0/9nFp48Q5nBA/s320/two-babies-sleeping-54s.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496750773158360210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two babies were sitting in their cribs, when one baby shouted to the other,&lt;br /&gt;"Are you a little girl or a little boy?"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"I don't know," replied the other baby giggling.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"What do you mean, you don't know?" said the first baby.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"I mean I don't know how to tell the difference," was the reply.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Well, I do," said the first baby chuckling, "I'll climb into your crib and find out."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;He carefully maneuvered himself into the other baby's crib, then quickly disappeared beneath the blankets.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;After a couple of minutes, he resurfaced with a big grin on his face.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"You're a little girl, and I'm a little boy," he said proudly.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"You're ever so clever," cooed the baby girl, "but how can you tell ?"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"It's quite easy really," replied the baby boy,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You've got pink socks and I've got blue ones . . .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-1788603831322182936?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/1788603831322182936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=1788603831322182936&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/1788603831322182936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/1788603831322182936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2010/07/two-babies.html' title='Two Babies...'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/TEhhtIT1NJI/AAAAAAAADu0/9nFp48Q5nBA/s72-c/two-babies-sleeping-54s.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-2823247649682026434</id><published>2010-07-21T21:14:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-07-21T21:19:53.092+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Nuts...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/TEcWn_KZZOI/AAAAAAAADus/lLFofgjsuS8/s1600/Old+Man.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; 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line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10pt;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10pt;"  &gt;On the outskirts of a small town, there was a big, old pecan tree just inside the cemetery fence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt;  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10pt;"  &gt;One day, two boys filled up a bucketful of nuts and sat down by the tree, out of sight, and began&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10pt;"  &gt;dividing the nuts. "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me," said one boy. Several&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10pt;"  &gt;dropped and rolled down toward the fence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt;  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10pt;"  &gt;Another boy came riding along the road on his bicycle. As he passed, he thought he heard&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10pt;"  &gt;voices from inside the cemetery. He slowed down to investigate. Sure enough, he heard,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10pt;"  &gt;"One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me." He just knew what it was. He jumped&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10pt;"  &gt;back on his bike and rode off. Just around the bend he met an old man with a cane, hobbling&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10pt;"  &gt;along. "Come here quick," said the boy, "you won't believe what I heard!" "Satan and the Lord&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10pt;"  &gt;are down at the cemetery dividing up the souls."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt;  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10pt;"  &gt;The man said, "Beat it kid, can't you see it's hard for me to walk." When the boy insisted though,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10pt;"  &gt;the man hobbled slowly to the cemetery. Standing by the fence they heard, "One for you,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10pt;"  &gt;one for me, One for you, one for me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt;  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10pt;"  &gt;The old man whispered, "Boy, you've been tellin' me the truth." "Let's see if we can see the Lord.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10pt;"  &gt;" Shaking with fear, they peered through the fence, yet were still unable to see anything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10pt;"  &gt;The old man and the boy gripped the wrought iron bars of the fence tighter and tighter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10pt;"  &gt;as they tried to get a glimpse of the Lord.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt;  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10pt;"  &gt;At last they heard, "One for you, one for me . . . That's all. Now let's go get those nuts by the fence and we'll be done."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12pt;"  &gt;  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:10pt;"  &gt;They say the old man made it back to town a full 5 minutes ahead of the kid on the bike . . .&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/35345258-2823247649682026434?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/2823247649682026434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=2823247649682026434&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/2823247649682026434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/2823247649682026434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2010/07/nuts.html' title='Nuts...'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/TEcWn_KZZOI/AAAAAAAADus/lLFofgjsuS8/s72-c/Old+Man.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-7899920258900731620</id><published>2009-11-01T11:39:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-01T12:12:36.371+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Miles Apart</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Su0tvDwwPAI/AAAAAAAACsg/aBSqrSaEdKI/s1600-h/Miss+you.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399021814773988354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 287px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Su0tvDwwPAI/AAAAAAAACsg/aBSqrSaEdKI/s320/Miss+you.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What greater thing is there for two human souls that to feel that they are joined... to strengthen each other... to be at one with each other in silent unspeakable memories.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love puts the fun in together, the sad in apart, and the joy in a heart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Absence makes thy heart grow fonder.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The simple lack of him is more to me than others' presence. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You don't need to be on the same wavelength to succeed in marriage. You just need to be able to ride each other's waves.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Miss you...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-7899920258900731620?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/7899920258900731620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=7899920258900731620&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/7899920258900731620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/7899920258900731620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2009/11/miles-apart.html' title='Miles Apart'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Su0tvDwwPAI/AAAAAAAACsg/aBSqrSaEdKI/s72-c/Miss+you.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-3356979223866753504</id><published>2009-09-28T12:33:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-28T12:35:18.392+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Conquer Your Weakness</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This is a story of one 10-year-old boy who decided to study judo despite the fact that he had lost his left arm in a devastating car accident.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The boy began lessons with an old Japanese judo master. The boy was doing well, so he couldn’t understand why, after three months of training, the master had taught him only one move. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;“Sensei,” the boy finally said, “Shouldn’t I be learning more moves?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;“This is the only move you know, but this is the only move you’ll ever need to know,” the Sensei replied. Not quite understanding, but believing in his teacher, the boy kept training.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Several months later, the Sensei took the boy to his first tournament. Surprising himself, the boy easily won his first two matches. The third match proved to be more difficult, but after some time, his opponent became impatient and charged; the boy deftly used his one move to win the match. Still amazed by his success, the boy was now in the finals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This time, his opponent was bigger, stronger, and more experienced. For a while, the boy appeared to be overmatched. Concerned that the boy might get hurt, the referee called a time-out. He was about to stop the match when the Sensei intervened. “No,” the Sensei insisted, “Let him continue.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon after the match resumed, his opponent made a critical mistake: he dropped his guard. Instantly, the boy used his move to pin him. The boy had won the match and the tournament. He was the champion.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way home, the boy and Sensei reviewed every move in each and every match. Then the boy summoned the courage to ask what was really on his mind. “Sensei, how did I win the tournament with only one move?”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You won for two reasons,” the Sensei answered. “First, you’ve almost mastered one of the most difficult throws in all of judo. And second, the only known defence for that move is for your opponent to grab your left arm.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy’s greatest weakness had become his greatest strength.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-3356979223866753504?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/3356979223866753504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=3356979223866753504&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3356979223866753504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3356979223866753504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2009/09/conquer-your-weakness.html' title='Conquer Your Weakness'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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-35345258.post-8946404667788618354</id><published>2009-05-09T22:56:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-09T22:58:55.677+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Embracing Imperfection</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;A story by a girl. "When I was a little girl, my mom liked to make breakfast food for dinner every now and then. And I remember one night in particular when she had made breakfast after a long, hard day at work. On that evening so long ago, my mom placed a plate of eggs, sausage, and extremely burned toast in front of my dad. I remember waiting to see if anyone noticed! Yet all my dad did was reach for his toast, smile at my mom, and ask me how my day was at school. I don't remember what I told him that night, but I do remember Watching him smear butter and jelly on that toast and eat every bite! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;When I got Up from the table that evening, I remember hearing my mom apologize to my dad For burning the toast. And I'll never forget what he said: 'Baby, I love burned toast.' &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Later that night, I went to kiss Daddy good night and I asked him if He really liked his toast burned. He wrapped me in his arms and said, 'Debbie, your Momma put in a hard day at work today and she's real tired. And besides-a little burnt toast never hurt anyone!' You know, life is full of imperfect things.....and imperfect people. I'm not the best housekeeper or cook. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;What I've learned over the years is that learning to accept each other's faults - and choosing to celebrate each other's differences - is the one of the most important keys to creating a healthy, growing, and lasting relationship. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;And that's my prayer for you today. That you will learn to take the good,the bad, and the ugly parts of your life and lay them at the feet of GOD. Because in the end, He's the only One who will be able to give you a relationship where burnt toast isn't a deal-breaker! We could extend this to any relationship in fact - as understanding is the base of any relationship, be it a husband-wife or parent-child or friendship!! " &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-8946404667788618354?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/8946404667788618354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=8946404667788618354&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/8946404667788618354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/8946404667788618354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2009/05/embracing-imperfection.html' title='Embracing Imperfection'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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-35345258.post-6374529120261698673</id><published>2009-04-04T18:09:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-04-04T18:44:40.739+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Love - Lost &amp; Found</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Sddc5c8QyVI/AAAAAAAACMc/Ce_1RHmCtgQ/s1600-h/Blog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320823626852780370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 90px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 128px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Sddc5c8QyVI/AAAAAAAACMc/Ce_1RHmCtgQ/s320/Blog.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; “Only Love” – Erich Segal - I was reading this book and was inspired to write on it. A very touching love story – about love; lost &amp;amp; found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1978&lt;br /&gt;A group of idealistic young doctors join a mission of mercy to Africa. Two of them, Mathew and Silvia, fall in love. They have one year together, before they are swept apart by bloodshed and violence. Mathew Hiller has been in mourning ever since.&lt;br /&gt;The Present&lt;br /&gt;A pioneer in genetic therapy at the very top of his field, Mathew is appealed to by a rich man whose wife’s brain tumor has been declared inoperable by every other surgeon. When she walks through the door he sees that it is Silvia, as beautiful as ever – still his “only love”. It’s as if the years have never passed.&lt;br /&gt;He must save her life. And if he does... what then?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sure everybody in life has their own first love and it is indeed very special. Few of the lucky lot, are fortunate enough to spend the rest of their lives with them. But rest of them; need to move on with life and hence at some point or the other need to settle down and get married. They too lead a happy life with their better half.&lt;br /&gt;But what happens, if you get to meet your first love once again? And even worse, you get to know that your first love shares the same feelings for you; even now; as you do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Better never to have met you in my dream than to wake and reach for hands that are not there.&lt;br /&gt; - Otomo No Yakamochi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SddbjrgjJWI/AAAAAAAACMU/2yfs9N6ZmFE/s1600-h/Blog.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-6374529120261698673?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/6374529120261698673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=6374529120261698673&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/6374529120261698673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/6374529120261698673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2009/04/love-lost-found.html' title='Love - Lost &amp; Found'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Sddc5c8QyVI/AAAAAAAACMc/Ce_1RHmCtgQ/s72-c/Blog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-8140641624820244335</id><published>2009-02-28T22:56:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-02-28T23:00:07.646+05:30</updated><title type='text'>If the alarm goes off, don’t run downstairs.. wait and watch !!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Sal0jQoED0I/AAAAAAAACKs/OeS_x275hPg/s1600-h/Blog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307901784940089154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Sal0jQoED0I/AAAAAAAACKs/OeS_x275hPg/s320/Blog.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;XYZ Office -&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A fire alarm rang at 6 PM when almost all shift employees are in office(approx 5000). As usual entire office was evacuated within 3 mins &amp;amp; every employee gathered outside office. 10 mins passed..................................5 more mins passed.&lt;br /&gt;Security Officer started Announcement: "Dear Employees - With melting heart I am making this announcement that for many of you it will be a last evacuation drill, as we are laying off almost 80% employees. While moving in who-so-ever ID card won't work are laid off &amp;amp; all their belongings will be couriered to them tomorrow. We followed this approach as we don't want to fill email box size with layoff email in thousands &amp;amp; also to avoid any fight inside office. Hope you have nice career ahead. Please move in &amp;amp; try your luck".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-8140641624820244335?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/8140641624820244335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=8140641624820244335&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/8140641624820244335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/8140641624820244335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2009/02/if-alarm-goes-off-dont-run-downstairs.html' title='If the alarm goes off, don’t run downstairs.. wait and watch !!'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Sal0jQoED0I/AAAAAAAACKs/OeS_x275hPg/s72-c/Blog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-4700894873607271251</id><published>2009-01-21T03:17:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-01-21T03:21:52.977+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Curse of being a Girl - An Interesting Article</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SXZHROsftLI/AAAAAAAACJA/2qQTO62xuVw/s1600-h/Innocent+Girl.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293496773348668594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 288px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SXZHROsftLI/AAAAAAAACJA/2qQTO62xuVw/s320/Innocent+Girl.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;ONCE, IN a candid conversation with my two kin – one of them was elder, while the other was of same age – we started discussing about the love affairs and stuff, which was not a big thing in such a modern time. My elder brother told me, “I will break your legs if I find you moving around with any guy!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was totally flabbergasted by such a chauvinistic statement counter questioned him, “What if you find him (my other brother) roaming around with any girl?” There on followed moments of lull, no body spoke for a while…how could they? They had no possible answer for my question. The talk ended with a giddy smiles and the topic changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the day followed I discussed about the whole thing with my mother at the end of which she said, “Beta, tu ladki hai na!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that was when I realised that I am still considered inferior to my brothers. He has more freedom than me. It kind of condemned me with a tag of helplessness. In the modern era, no matter how things have changed, no matter how much people would say that sons and daughters are equal, in the back of their minds they know that sharp differences exist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently I read John Milton’s Paradise Lost. God created the world in seven days. But there was nobody to appreciate his creation, so he created man in his own image and christened him Adam, he was supreme amongst all the creatures in the world. But, he was all alone. God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam and he slept. He took one of his ribs and closed up the flesh thereof and he made a woman from the rib and brought her unto the men. She was christened Eve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adam says, “This is now bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh, she shall be called woman because she was taken out of man”. If a woman is supposed to be formed out of man, does that give him the right to own her? Does she become subservient to him? After all she is born as an individual, with her free will. Eve was born to be a companion of Adam not his servant or slave. Even God did not create any bias between them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I observed that women are always considered inferior to men. I do not know the reason. From the conversation with my brother, I noticed that I do not possess the same amount of freedom (social or sexual) that my brother has. If he could go out and do whatever he wants, why should I be discriminated against? Why there is so much pressure on a girl whereas guys could go around freely? A girl is termed as characterless for seeing boys but guys remain unblemished even if he were to flirt around with girls. Why? Just because he is a guy!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-4700894873607271251?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/4700894873607271251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=4700894873607271251&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/4700894873607271251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/4700894873607271251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2009/01/curse-of-being-gal-interesting-article.html' title='The Curse of being a Girl - An Interesting Article'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SXZHROsftLI/AAAAAAAACJA/2qQTO62xuVw/s72-c/Innocent+Girl.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-2936134814289055080</id><published>2009-01-12T09:12:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-01-12T09:13:19.442+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Dont hate anyone</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SWq8OfY5gPI/AAAAAAAACH0/l9Yz_FNPHVQ/s1600-h/Blog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290247669430190322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 233px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SWq8OfY5gPI/AAAAAAAACH0/l9Yz_FNPHVQ/s320/Blog.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-2936134814289055080?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/2936134814289055080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=2936134814289055080&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/2936134814289055080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/2936134814289055080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2009/01/dont-hate-anyone.html' title='Dont hate anyone'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SWq8OfY5gPI/AAAAAAAACH0/l9Yz_FNPHVQ/s72-c/Blog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-970421533899512766</id><published>2008-11-19T19:57:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-19T20:13:20.225+05:30</updated><title type='text'>"Romance" - A Short Story Contest</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SSQl56wEhNI/AAAAAAAAB6o/3HZECcSUVDY/s1600-h/Blog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270379140883973330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 257px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SSQl56wEhNI/AAAAAAAAB6o/3HZECcSUVDY/s320/Blog.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Courtesy - Jyo's mail&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It’s a story of a Brahmin gal who loved(loving) a non-Brahmin and due to&lt;br /&gt;father’s compulsion married a Brahmin guy and leading a perfect life with&lt;br /&gt;little happiness!!&lt;br /&gt;(Some tamil words included)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi folks, here's my entry to the much talked about short story contest. The&lt;br /&gt;story is not short though, I apologise!&lt;br /&gt;When I thought of this story, I envisaged it and almost started writing&lt;br /&gt;this in Tamil but only then did I realise that my written Tamil is not upto&lt;br /&gt;the mark. ( Well, am not claiming my English is excellent, but it's&lt;br /&gt;relatively better than my Tamil) In fact, even after I finished writing it,&lt;br /&gt;I still felt the story belongs to Tamil!! Will mail it to my aunt and get&lt;br /&gt;it reincarnated in Tamil.&lt;br /&gt;Pssst, the most operative name in this story, I ripped from Thevar Magan&lt;br /&gt;;)It somehow signified a lot to&lt;br /&gt;me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dearest Appa,&lt;br /&gt;27th Jan'1965&lt;br /&gt;Hope this letter finds you, Amma, Raji and Seenu in good health. The&lt;br /&gt;weather here in New York City is icy cold. But Avar sollraar- I have&lt;br /&gt;missed this winter's biting cold. I still wish I had seen the snow… But&lt;br /&gt;then, I still wish I had not left Trichy at all. I do miss Trichy, Appa.&lt;br /&gt;You, Amma, Raji, Seenu, pakkatthaathu Rama, Vikatan, Ucchi Pillaiyaar Koil,&lt;br /&gt;filter coffee, Holy Cross College, the Physics Department and of course&lt;br /&gt;Sakthi. I know you wish I hadn't brought his name in this letter.But not to&lt;br /&gt;worry Appa, I understand that you got me married to Visu because you&lt;br /&gt;thought it was best for your daughter. I still remember Amma wiping her&lt;br /&gt;silent tears with her madisaar thalappu and you shouting at me the day I&lt;br /&gt;told you about Sakthi. Later, when the initial shock wore off you patiently&lt;br /&gt;listed umpteen reasons why I should not marry Sakthi. I agree Appa, that 20&lt;br /&gt;is too young to decide, that Raji and Seenu would have been affected&lt;br /&gt;greatly by my 'mistake', the Agrahaaram would have scoffed at you… a meat&lt;br /&gt;eater was not a good match for someone who had never even tasted onion and&lt;br /&gt;garlic. The reasons were innumerous. I knew you'd still have objected and&lt;br /&gt;offered other reasons even if he had become a Dhigambara monk. Visu on the&lt;br /&gt;other hand, wore a poonal, he is the son of Neelakanta Sastri, an Engineer&lt;br /&gt;and he researched about computers which is what made you jump for this&lt;br /&gt;alliance. Am not complaining Appa, Visu is a nice man.&lt;br /&gt;Tell Amma that I could not try her kozhakkattai recipe this Pongal because&lt;br /&gt;coconuts were too expensive and Avar nenacchar that it was ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we went out on Sankaranthi day and dined out. He thought it would&lt;br /&gt;be a good idea to invite the Chatterjees also. But I didn't speak Bengali&lt;br /&gt;and Mrs.Chatterjee spoke English in an accent that comes with living years&lt;br /&gt;in America. Hence I made myself busy with the menu card. They ordered&lt;br /&gt;various species of fish,shrimp and a lot more of items I had never seen in&lt;br /&gt;my life. I ordered orange juice and a sandwich. The other diners thought it&lt;br /&gt;was queer coming to a seafood restaurant and settling for a sandwich. That&lt;br /&gt;day, I learnt that Avar prefer pannradhu beef, pork, bacon and seafood. Do&lt;br /&gt;you know, Appa… Sakthi gave up meat because of me? I didn't ask, he just&lt;br /&gt;did. But then, Sakthi is not Neelakanta Sastri's son and that made it&lt;br /&gt;imposible for Subramania Iyer's daughter Kalyani to marry him.&lt;br /&gt;I will keep you posted on what happens here. I don't think I can make it to&lt;br /&gt;Seenu's Upanayanam. Tell Amma not to get me a pattu podavai for the poonal,&lt;br /&gt;I don't use them here. I wore it once and felt like a clown here. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Your loving daughter,&lt;br /&gt;Kalyani.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dearest Appa,&lt;br /&gt;20th Oct'1968&lt;br /&gt;We are fine here. Gautam is speaking his first words and I swear they&lt;br /&gt;sounded like 'Dosai'. But Visu claims it's just gibberish. From your&lt;br /&gt;previous letter, I gather that pakkathatthu Rama is married and settled in&lt;br /&gt;Jamshedpur. Nice to know that. Please find out her address from Saarada&lt;br /&gt;maami and write it to me. I want to keep in touch with her. I hope Raji is&lt;br /&gt;happy with her husband in Madras. I spoke to her last month, great to know&lt;br /&gt;that she has a phone. Do tell Seenu to study well and prepare for his&lt;br /&gt;school final exams. Raji also told me that Sakthi is married now. I wish&lt;br /&gt;him good luck, but I could not convey the message to him. Raji refused to&lt;br /&gt;be the messenger and I know you have severed ties with Sakthi's father,&lt;br /&gt;your long term friend Sankaravel, thanks to me. I hear his wife is his&lt;br /&gt;cousin… He must have succumbed to his mother's wishes.&lt;br /&gt;How did Avani Avittam go? Visu's mother gave me a bunch of new poonals for&lt;br /&gt;Avani Avittam but Visu was in Boston that day. He wouldn't have used it&lt;br /&gt;anyway, I haven't seen him wear one in the last three years. Gautam is now&lt;br /&gt;playing with the spool of thread- mere thread it is, what else can I call&lt;br /&gt;it? Gautam will not even know what it signifies, I guess. Visu is making&lt;br /&gt;sure Gautam grows up listening to English only. He says it will make his&lt;br /&gt;life easier. But I do read out passages from Ponniyin Selvan and&lt;br /&gt;Bharathiyaar's poetry when I am alone with him. It's more of reading to&lt;br /&gt;myself, I guess. I actually got that poetry book as a present from Sakthi,&lt;br /&gt;it still has his scrawling signature in the first page.&lt;br /&gt;By the way, Visu saw that book and asked me about Sakthi, I told him. Hold&lt;br /&gt;your breath Appa, he didn't throw me out of the house. He is a good man, no&lt;br /&gt;question. He said it is okay and that he doesn't mind. And then he told me&lt;br /&gt;of his American girlfriend whom he was once in love with, when he first&lt;br /&gt;reached America- Amy, a fellow Researcher who was in a brief relationship&lt;br /&gt;with Visu when she was in New York. They lived together for 3 months and&lt;br /&gt;decided against marriage, somehow. Amy once dropped home when she was in&lt;br /&gt;New York. Nice lady, she was.&lt;br /&gt;Ask Amma to send me Sambar Podi for this whole year. My friend Sudha is&lt;br /&gt;coming to Madras next week. Ask Seenu to catch the Rockfort Express and&lt;br /&gt;give it to her. I will collect it from her here.&lt;br /&gt;Your loving daughter,&lt;br /&gt;Kalyani.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dearest Appa,&lt;br /&gt;3rd June'1974&lt;br /&gt;We have arrived here safely. After two months in India, I find it hard to&lt;br /&gt;adjust back to normal life here. Gautam and Ranjana demand vadai,paayasam&lt;br /&gt;and vaazhai ilai here. Visu's relieved to be back in America. I left a set&lt;br /&gt;of my books there. If it's not in Trichy it must be in Visu's parents'&lt;br /&gt;place. If you find them, safeguard them until my next trip. They mean a lot&lt;br /&gt;to me since they were gifts from Sakthi. By the way, Appa, I found out&lt;br /&gt;Sakthi's present address in Madras from Rama and Saarada maami. I wrote to&lt;br /&gt;him. I am extremely proud to know that Dr.Sakthivel is a cardiologist much&lt;br /&gt;in demand there in Madras. He was thrilled to hear from me after so long.&lt;br /&gt;You know what he has named his daughters? Kalyani and Raagamaalika.&lt;br /&gt;He called me. You know what, he's still a practising vegetarian, Appa. He&lt;br /&gt;didn't revert back just because he lost me… He asked me if I still sang and&lt;br /&gt;whether Gautam and Ranjana could sing. I could see a proud father in him,&lt;br /&gt;when he claimed his daughters could sing upto Ra ra Venu Gopala. That's&lt;br /&gt;when I remembered that I was once a good singer. I wonder why I stopped&lt;br /&gt;singing, wonder why I never exposed the kids to Music and Dance. But then,&lt;br /&gt;I realize that I had buried all that deep inside me when I left Trichy;&lt;br /&gt;after bidding farewell to my best Rasika, actually. Sakthi. After the call,&lt;br /&gt;I tried singing 'Kurai Onrum Illai'. I could not quite reach Charanam,&lt;br /&gt;because of the lack of practice and more importantly because of the tears&lt;br /&gt;that filmed my eyes and the constriction in my throat. I sang to Visu and&lt;br /&gt;the kids one of these days. Though Gautam was impressed, father and&lt;br /&gt;daughter could not just wait for me to finish!&lt;br /&gt;By the way, next time some friend comes to India, send me a Sruthi Box. I&lt;br /&gt;would like to start singing again.&lt;br /&gt;Your loving daughter,&lt;br /&gt;Kalyani.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dearest Appa,&lt;br /&gt;14th Aug 1978&lt;br /&gt;Just back after our tour to California. Find our photos, picture postcards&lt;br /&gt;attached herewith. After you are done with showing all family&lt;br /&gt;members,relatives, friends and neighbours, pass them to Visu's parents. It&lt;br /&gt;was a welcome break for the four of us. But I missed my paattu class&lt;br /&gt;students all along and was happy to resume the classes again last evening.&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention in my previous letter, before we left on the tour - I finally&lt;br /&gt;got my driving license here. I sent a few photos to Sakthi too. He has sent&lt;br /&gt;me quite a few records and cassettes. I loved it! I'm reminded of AIR,&lt;br /&gt;almost! I'm circulating them among my friends too. And of course, playing&lt;br /&gt;them for my students too. They are picking up beautifully. Funny news is,&lt;br /&gt;I, a Tamilian, is teaching Telugu and Sanskrit kritis to a cross section of&lt;br /&gt;Tamil, Malayalam, Kannada,Telugu, Marathi, Bengali students in an English&lt;br /&gt;speaking nation.&lt;br /&gt;The music sessions have resulted in a reborn Kalyani, Appa. Thanks to&lt;br /&gt;Sakthi, really. I would have never taken it up had it not been for his&lt;br /&gt;reminder. I am now thinking of what life would have been like if I had&lt;br /&gt;indeed married him. I would have of course lost you and Amma. But right&lt;br /&gt;now, with this life in America, Visu and these monthly letters to you,&lt;br /&gt;Rama, Raji and Seenu what have i gained? I don't find an answer, Appa.&lt;br /&gt;Neither do I think I ever will. Again, as I have always reiterated, Visu is&lt;br /&gt;a good man, no complaints there. He is every bit the son in law you wanted.&lt;br /&gt;Researcher, American Post Graduate Degree holder, a dutiful husband and&lt;br /&gt;father,earning a comfortable income. I know it is too much to ask for&lt;br /&gt;anything else. That is a fantasy I left midway in my life… Once upon a time&lt;br /&gt;in Trichy with someone else.&lt;br /&gt;Your loving daughter,&lt;br /&gt;Kalyani.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dearest Appa,&lt;br /&gt;14th Apr'1984&lt;br /&gt;Met Dr.Sakthivel after 19 years… He had come to New&lt;br /&gt;York for business purposes and paid me a visit. Visu and the kids welcomed&lt;br /&gt;him home with great pleasure. And they liked him too. In fact, they did&lt;br /&gt;most of the talking initially. And of course, he got me a whole load of&lt;br /&gt;books, cassettes, Mysore Paak and lots more.&lt;br /&gt;Your loving daughter,&lt;br /&gt;Kalyani.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dearest Appa,&lt;br /&gt;20th Jan' 1990&lt;br /&gt;I just went through all these letters lying in my closet draw for years&lt;br /&gt;together. These are letters I started writing to you and then decided not&lt;br /&gt;to post. For obvious reasons. I could not mention Sakthi to you even though&lt;br /&gt;I was itching to. Not because I was afraid to invite your wrath. I just did&lt;br /&gt;not have the heart to hurt you, I know these letters would have hurt you.&lt;br /&gt;Because deep inside, I know you were disturbed- you knew Sakthi was a good&lt;br /&gt;man, you knew he was a man of substance, yet you didn't want to go further.&lt;br /&gt;Society, I know. Family… I know… And all these letters would have only&lt;br /&gt;wounded you more. Today, 2 years after your death, and 6 months after Dr.&lt;br /&gt;Sakthivel's untimely death in a road accident, I somehow felt like&lt;br /&gt;re-reading all these letters. To me, all these unstamped, unposted letters&lt;br /&gt;mean a life that could have been.&lt;br /&gt;Kalyani Viswanathan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-970421533899512766?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/970421533899512766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=970421533899512766&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/970421533899512766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/970421533899512766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2008/11/romance-short-story-contest.html' title='&quot;Romance&quot; - A Short Story Contest'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SSQl56wEhNI/AAAAAAAAB6o/3HZECcSUVDY/s72-c/Blog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-6653241744305511693</id><published>2008-10-29T18:34:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-10-29T18:38:02.990+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Why do we Yell in Anger?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SQhgHLw2GhI/AAAAAAAAB5E/97kwTQanjhI/s1600-h/yell.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262561841115437586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 102px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 128px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SQhgHLw2GhI/AAAAAAAAB5E/97kwTQanjhI/s320/yell.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A sage asked his mandalies ,'Why people yell at eachother when they are upset?'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The men thought for a while,'Because we loose our calmness,' said one.'we yell for that.'&lt;br /&gt;'But, why to yell when the other person is at your side?' asked thesage. ' Isn't it possible to speak to him or her with a soft voice? Whydo you yell at a person when you're angry?'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The men gave some other answers but none satisfied the sage. Finallyhe explained,'When two people are angry at each other, their heartsdistance a lot. To cover that distance they must yell, to be able to hear each other. The angrier they are, the stronger they will have toyell to hear each other through that great distance.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the sage asked,' What happens when two people fall in love? Theydo not yell at each other but talk softly, why?Their hearts are veryclose. The distance between them is very small.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sage continued, 'When they love each other even more, what happens?They do not speak, only whisper and they get even closer to each otherin their love. Finally they even need not whisper, they only look ateach other and that's all. That is how close two people are when theylove each other.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the sage said, 'When you argue do not let your hearts get distant,do not say words that distance each other more, else there will come a day whenthe distance is so great that you will not find the path to return.' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-6653241744305511693?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/6653241744305511693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=6653241744305511693&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/6653241744305511693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/6653241744305511693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2008/10/why-do-we-yell-in-anger.html' title='Why do we Yell in Anger?'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SQhgHLw2GhI/AAAAAAAAB5E/97kwTQanjhI/s72-c/yell.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-7438893003237134241</id><published>2008-10-15T22:51:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-10-15T22:55:35.041+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Tug Of War</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Some years ago on a hot summer day in south Florida, a little boy decided to go for a swim in the old swimming pool behind his house. In a hurry to dive into the cool water, he ran out the back door, leaving behind shoes, socks and shirt as he went. He flew into the water, not realizing that as he swam toward the middle of the lake, an alligator was swimming toward the shore.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;His mother; in the house was looking out the window; saw the two as they got closer and closer together. In utter fear, she ran toward the water, yelling to her son as loudly as she could. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Hearing her voice, the little boy became alarmed and made a U-turn to swim to his mother. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It was too late. Just as he reached her, the alligator reached him. From the dock, the mother grabbed her little boy by the arms just as the alligator snatched his legs. That began an incredible tug-of-war between the two. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The alligator was much stronger than the mother, but the mother was much too passionate to let go.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A farmer happened to drive by, heard her screams, raced from his truck, took aim and shot the alligator. Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital, the little boy survived.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;His legs were extremely scarred by the vicious attack of the animal. And, on his arms, were deep scratches where his mother's fingernails dug into his flesh in her effort to hang on to the son she loved.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The newspaper reporter who interviewed the boy after the trauma, asked if he would show him his scars. The boy lifted his pant legs. And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter, "But look at my arms. I have great scars on my arms, too. I have them because my mom wouldn't let go."  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;You and I can identify with that little boy. We have scars, too. No, not from an alligator, or anything quite so dramatic, But, the scars of a painful past. Some of those scars are unsightly and have caused us deep regret. But, some wounds, my friend, are because God has refused to let go. &lt;strong&gt;In the midst of our struggle, He's been there holding on to us.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;He did not - and will not - let you go.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-7438893003237134241?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/7438893003237134241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=7438893003237134241&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/7438893003237134241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/7438893003237134241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2008/10/tug-of-war.html' title='Tug Of War'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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-35345258.post-2198143209660144503</id><published>2008-10-06T19:10:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-10-06T19:13:19.271+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Window</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SOoV5JHsZvI/AAAAAAAABzU/Q6ZxZqfErdc/s1600-h/image001.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254035986726020850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SOoV5JHsZvI/AAAAAAAABzU/Q6ZxZqfErdc/s320/image001.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A young couple moves into a new neighborhood. The next morning, while they are eating breakfast, the young woman sees her neighbor hang the wash outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That laundry is not very clean, she said, she doesn't know how to wash correctly. Perhaps she needs better laundry soap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her husband looked on, but remained silent. Every time her neighbor would hang her wash to dry, the young woman would make the same comments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About one month later, the woman was surprised to see a nice clean wash on the line and said to her husband: "Look! She has learned how to wash correctly. I wonder who taught her this."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband said: "I got up early this morning and cleaned our windows!"&lt;br /&gt;And so it is with life: "What we see when watching others depends on the purity of the window through which we look. Before we give any criticism, it might be a good idea to check our state of mind and ask ourselves if we are ready to see the good rather than to be looking for something in the person we are about to judge. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And oh yes! I almost forgot….I see you today much clearer than I did yesterday…And you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-2198143209660144503?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/2198143209660144503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=2198143209660144503&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/2198143209660144503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/2198143209660144503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2008/10/window.html' title='The Window'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SOoV5JHsZvI/AAAAAAAABzU/Q6ZxZqfErdc/s72-c/image001.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-4552071366364217972</id><published>2008-09-30T18:48:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-09-30T18:48:47.866+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Night Watch!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A nurse took the tired, anxious serviceman to the bedside. "Your son is here," she said to the old man. She had to repeat the words several times before the patient's eyes opened. Heavily sedated because of the pain of his heart attack, he dimly saw the young uniformed Marine standing outside the oxygen tent. He reached out his hand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Marine wrapped his toughened fingers around the old man's limp ones, squeezing a message of love and encouragement. The nurse brought a chair so that the Marine could sit beside the bed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All through the night the young Marine sat there in the poorly lighted ward, holding the old man's hand and offering him words of love and strength. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Occasionally, the nurse suggested that the Marine move away and rest awhile. He refused. Whenever the nurse came into the ward, the Marine was oblivious of her and of the night noises of the hospital - the clanking of the oxygen tank, the laughter of the night staff members exchanging greetings, the cries and moans of the other patients. Now and then she heard him say a few gentle words. The dying man said nothing, only held tightly to his son all through the night.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Along towards dawn, the old man died. The Marine released the now lifeless hand he had been holding and went to tell the nurse. While she did what she had to do, he waited. Finally, she returned. She started to offer words of sympathy, but the Marine interrupted her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Who was that man?" he asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nurse was startled, "He was your father" she answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, he wasn't," the Marine replied. "I never saw him before in my life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Then why didn't you say something when I took you to him?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I knew right away there had been a mistake, but I also knew he needed his son, and his son just wasn't here. When I realized that he was too sick to tell whether or not I was his son, knowing how much he needed me. I stayed."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next time someone needs you...be there. Stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'll be glad you did.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-4552071366364217972?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/4552071366364217972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=4552071366364217972&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/4552071366364217972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/4552071366364217972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2008/09/night-watch.html' title='Night Watch!'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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-35345258.post-2818107404859568265</id><published>2008-09-11T18:53:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-09-11T18:55:09.165+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Power of Thoughts</title><content type='html'>One day, a yogi and his disciple arrived to the big city. They had no money with them, but they needed food and a place to stay. The disciple was sure that they were going to beg for their food, and sleep in the park at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There is a big park not far from here. We can sleep there at night", said the disciple.&lt;br /&gt;"In the open air?" Asked the yogi.&lt;br /&gt;"Yes", responded the student.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The yogi smiled and said: "No, tonight we are going to sleep in a hotel and eat there too".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The student was amazed. "How?"&lt;br /&gt;"Come and sit down", said the yogi.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;They both sat down on the ground and the yogi said:&lt;br /&gt;"When you focus your mind intently on any subject, it comes to pass."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The yogi closed his eyes and started to meditate with full concentration. After about ten minutes he got up and started to walk, with his disciple following him. They walked through several streets and alleys, until they arrived to a hotel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Come, let's enter inside", the yogi said to his disciple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They just set foot in the entrance, when a well-dressed man approached them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am the manager of this hotel. You look like traveling swamis and I believe you have no money. Would you like to work in the kitchen, and in return I'll give you food and a place to stay?"&lt;br /&gt;"Fine", responded the yogi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The disciple was perplexed and asked the yogi: "Did you use any magic? How did you do that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The yogi smiled and said, "I wanted to show you how the power of thoughts works. When you think with full and strong concentration about something that you want to happen, and your mind does not resist the subject of your thought, your thought materializes."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"The secret is concentrating, visualizing, seeing details, having faith and projecting mental and emotional energy into the mental scene. These are the general prerequisites. When your mind is empty from thoughts, and only one single thought is allowed to enter, it gains a very great power. One should be very careful with what he thinks. A concentrated thought is powerful, and exerts a very strong influence."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The disciple looked at his teacher and said: "I see that I have to sharpen my concentration in order to be able to use this power."&lt;br /&gt;"Yes!!", responded the yogi and smiled.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-2818107404859568265?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/2818107404859568265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=2818107404859568265&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/2818107404859568265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/2818107404859568265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2008/09/power-of-thoughts.html' title='The Power of Thoughts'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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-35345258.post-1653972119527366437</id><published>2008-08-18T23:49:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-18T23:59:24.025+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Relationships</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SKm9Yftlf2I/AAAAAAAAByE/fSStYeL4_Uc/s1600-h/Relationships.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235924270322122594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SKm9Yftlf2I/AAAAAAAAByE/fSStYeL4_Uc/s400/Relationships.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;     You can’t stop loving or wanting to love because when its right, it’s the best thing in the world. When you are in a relationship and it is good, even if nothing else in your life is right, you fell like your world is complete.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-1653972119527366437?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/1653972119527366437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=1653972119527366437&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/1653972119527366437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/1653972119527366437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2008/08/relationships.html' title='Relationships'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SKm9Yftlf2I/AAAAAAAAByE/fSStYeL4_Uc/s72-c/Relationships.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-1756996872199775201</id><published>2008-08-18T19:01:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-18T19:06:56.337+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Cracked Pot</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SKl66QCub0I/AAAAAAAABx8/v7KOGC9djck/s1600-h/cracked_pot.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235851182952312642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SKl66QCub0I/AAAAAAAABx8/v7KOGC9djck/s320/cracked_pot.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A water bearer in China had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, while the other pot was perfect and alwaysdelivered a full portion of water. At the end of the long walk from the stream to the House, the cracked pot arrived only half full. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to his house.Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments,perfect for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot wasashamed of its own imperfection. And miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.&lt;br /&gt;After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you. I have been able todeliver only half my load because this crack in my side causeswater to leak out all the way back to your house. Because of myflaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts," the pot said.&lt;br /&gt;The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side? That's because I have always known about your flaw. So Iplanted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you've watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table. Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Moral: Each of us has our own unique flaws. We're all cracked pots. But it's the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding. You've just got to take each person for what they are, and look for the good in them. Blessed are the flexible, for they shall not be bent out of shape. Remember to appreciate all the different people in your life &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-1756996872199775201?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/1756996872199775201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=1756996872199775201&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/1756996872199775201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/1756996872199775201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2008/08/cracked-pot.html' title='The Cracked Pot'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SKl66QCub0I/AAAAAAAABx8/v7KOGC9djck/s72-c/cracked_pot.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-7236339162926757713</id><published>2008-07-07T18:49:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-07-07T18:57:19.548+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Relationships</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SHIZkVqteYI/AAAAAAAAA30/yqDxDovF5v8/s1600-h/relationships.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220263030158096770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SHIZkVqteYI/AAAAAAAAA30/yqDxDovF5v8/s320/relationships.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Courtesy: My friends mail&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Any type of relationship, whether it is between family members, people we work with, or friends, takes a lot of work to maintain and build upon. No two people are alike, or have the same exact interests. This must be taken into consideration when trying to maintain a relationship. Understanding and compassion also play a big role in improving a relationship that might be ending.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;1. Understand that at times we come across as too needy and this is usually due to the fact that we don't want to be single. But sometimes spending time with ourselves is the best gift we can give ourselves. Being alone needn't mean being lonely. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;2. Remember that the best relationships are based on living, loving and sharing. Sharing creates harmony in a relationship. Harmony and balance are a part of a good relationship structure. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;3. Face difficulties and problems when they come up. Talk openly to each other without confessing ALL your sins. Avoid giving them your whole life story. Take time to get to know each other. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;4. Be willing to take full responsibility for your own words and actions if you want your relationships to work. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;5. Realise that relationships never really end - they just change. You are still in a relationship with each other it's just a different type of relationship. If you can accept the fact that you are now just friends - that too could be a very special kind of relationship. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;6. Try to be more honest with them. Being more honest with them means that they will be more honest to you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;7. Spend more time with them. If they live far away, make a date with them at a place close to where they live. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;8. When they are not feeling too good, offer to stay home with them to help them out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;9. Learn to be a good listener. When people can tell that you are truly listening to what they say (instead of pretending to pay attention until getting a turn to speak), they feel that you truly care and enjoy their company. Many of the most well-liked and cherished people are good listeners.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-7236339162926757713?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/7236339162926757713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=7236339162926757713&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/7236339162926757713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/7236339162926757713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2008/07/relationships.html' title='Relationships'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SHIZkVqteYI/AAAAAAAAA30/yqDxDovF5v8/s72-c/relationships.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-3613664096370126510</id><published>2008-06-20T02:35:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2008-06-20T05:57:04.734+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Game</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SFr4zUlE1OI/AAAAAAAAA3Q/ZMZGslGNWQo/s1600-h/chess.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213753079216002274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SFr4zUlE1OI/AAAAAAAAA3Q/ZMZGslGNWQo/s320/chess.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;How can we balance&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;these lives we control&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;our reasoning means nothing &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;for judgment we await&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;good and evil &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;evil and good&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;no one balances out&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;as they should&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;because what do we know &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;of evil or good&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;our definitions are meaningless&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;we are only pawns in God's game&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;given a book of stories&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;containing rules to play&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;then we are forced into the game &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;just to await our judgment&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;but we're told judging is a sin &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and sinning is against the rules&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;so is God not playing by the rules?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;are we reading the rules wrong? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;how can we understand &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;if understanding is beyond us?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-3613664096370126510?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/3613664096370126510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=3613664096370126510&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3613664096370126510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3613664096370126510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2008/06/game.html' title='The Game'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SFr4zUlE1OI/AAAAAAAAA3Q/ZMZGslGNWQo/s72-c/chess.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-6544481646165899309</id><published>2008-05-02T05:58:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-05-02T06:10:13.921+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Best Thing</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SBpiGrN4VRI/AAAAAAAAA1E/GT6XPVjZ4cM/s1600-h/Pink+Flower.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195572986944967954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SBpiGrN4VRI/AAAAAAAAA1E/GT6XPVjZ4cM/s320/Pink+Flower.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;You are the &lt;strong&gt;Best Thing&lt;/strong&gt; that ever happened to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-6544481646165899309?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/6544481646165899309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=6544481646165899309&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/6544481646165899309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/6544481646165899309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2008/05/best-thing.html' title='The Best Thing'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/SBpiGrN4VRI/AAAAAAAAA1E/GT6XPVjZ4cM/s72-c/Pink+Flower.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-7417748001399931572</id><published>2008-03-04T21:23:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-03-04T21:40:49.187+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Valentine's Day!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/R81xSs8TaOI/AAAAAAAAAyc/hJnZPF8a2uU/s1600-h/A_Heart_For_My_Valentine.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173916113034242274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/R81xSs8TaOI/AAAAAAAAAyc/hJnZPF8a2uU/s320/A_Heart_For_My_Valentine.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/R81w0c8TaNI/AAAAAAAAAyU/iaq51h4cnFA/s1600-h/A_Heart_For_My_Valentine.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I heated the silver with my desire into the shape of a heart for you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Then polished a golden one with my passion and wondered if it was bright enough.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I cut one of crystal, for the purity of the love within my soul and placed it on a shelf. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But the one I gave you, was cut from simple red paper, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;with the words, "from My Heart to Yours" for valentines.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The smile on your face told me it was the only one you would have wanted, for you gave me one like it back....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-7417748001399931572?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/7417748001399931572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=7417748001399931572&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/7417748001399931572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/7417748001399931572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2008/03/valentines-day.html' title='Valentine&apos;s Day!'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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/_lGOYKG_1GSM/R81xSs8TaOI/AAAAAAAAAyc/hJnZPF8a2uU/s72-c/A_Heart_For_My_Valentine.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-7497715138616809380</id><published>2008-01-04T20:32:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-01-04T20:36:24.121+05:30</updated><title type='text'>2008 - New Year!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;As long as we have Memories&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;               Yesterday Remains,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;As long as we have Hope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;              Tomorrow Awaits,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;As long as we have Friendship,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;               Each day is never a waste,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;As long as we Love,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;               We Cherish....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-7497715138616809380?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/7497715138616809380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=7497715138616809380&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/7497715138616809380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/7497715138616809380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2008/01/2008-new-year.html' title='2008 - New Year!'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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-35345258.post-318875482548365762</id><published>2007-12-12T21:34:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-12-12T22:13:11.094+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Love Can Last Forever If You Want It To . . .</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143125587449723378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/R2ANeOspufI/AAAAAAAAAss/9iknHng7x5Y/s320/384323992_5fe67df84d_m.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Love is the strongest and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Most fulfilling emotion possible.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It lets you share your goals, your desires, your experiences.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It lets you share your life with someone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It lets you be yourself,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;With someone who will always support you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It lets you speak your innermost feelings to someone who understands you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It lets you feel tenderness and warmth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A wholeness that avoids loneliness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Love lets you feel complete. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143126562407299586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/R2AOW-spugI/AAAAAAAAAs0/RBpQf_l9G5Y/s320/3048636131.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;But in order to have &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A successful love relationship&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You must make a strong commitment to each other and love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And you must do and feel everything within your mind and body &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;to make this commitment work. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You must be happy with yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And you must understand yourself, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;before you can expect someone else&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;to be happy with you or to understand you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You must be honest about yourself and each other at all times.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And not hold any feelings back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You must accept each other the way you are,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And not try to change each other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You must be free to grow as individuals,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;yet share your life as one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;But not live your life through each other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You must follow your own principals and morals,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And not follow what societal roles tell you to do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You must follow the philosophy that men and women are equal,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;and not treat either person with inferiority in any way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143126940364421650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/R2AOs-spuhI/AAAAAAAAAs8/mOuBKenyWaU/s320/209635579.jpg" border="0" /&gt;In order to have a lasting love relationship,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You must be together always in your heart,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;but not necessarily always in your activities.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You must be proud of each other &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;and love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;and not be ashamed to show your sensitive feelings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You must treat everyday spent with each other as special&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;and not take each other or your love for granted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You must spend time talking with each other everyday &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;and not be too busy with outside events,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;that you are too tired for each other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You must understand each other’s moods and feelings&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;and not hurt each other intentionally,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;but if your frustrations are taken out on each other,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You must both realize that it is not a personal attack.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You must be passionate with each other often&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;and not get into boring patterns.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You must continue to have fun and excitement with each other&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;and not be afraid to try new things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You must always work at love and your love relationship&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;and not forget how important this relationship is,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;or what you would feel like without it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143127189472524834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/R2AO7espuiI/AAAAAAAAAtE/h2LB6YHp6Uo/s320/211933588.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Love is the strongest&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And most fulfilling emotion possible.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;If you live&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Your commitment to love.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You will live your dreams.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-318875482548365762?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/318875482548365762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=318875482548365762&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/318875482548365762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/318875482548365762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/12/love-can-last-forever-if-you-want-it-to.html' title='Love Can Last Forever If You Want It To . . .'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/R2ANeOspufI/AAAAAAAAAss/9iknHng7x5Y/s72-c/384323992_5fe67df84d_m.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-2529862466464301553</id><published>2007-11-10T14:55:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-11-10T15:35:52.273+05:30</updated><title type='text'>My Old Diary</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RzWCZdipWgI/AAAAAAAAArQ/D7YhJfaWs9s/s1600-h/now.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131150724396833282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RzWCZdipWgI/AAAAAAAAArQ/D7YhJfaWs9s/s320/now.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was one of my routine where I was cleaning my shelf and came across this book... or should I call a diary.. This was very useful in those days where mobile phones were not the in thing. I used to have this book in my bag as it had the telephone numbers of my good friends... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had this good habit (should I say good habit??... ) No.... interesting hobby of writing down some lines which I found to be interesting..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here it is..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do not undermine your worth by comparing yourself with others. It is because you are different that each of us is special.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do not set your goals by what other people deem important. Only you know what is best for you.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do not let your life slip through your fingers by living in the past nor for the future. By living your life one day at a time, you live all the days of your life.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do not give up when you still have something to give. Nothing is really over until the moment you stop trying. It is a fragile thread that binds us to each other.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do not be afraid to encounter risks. it is by taking chances that we learn how to be brave.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do not shut love out of your life by saying it is impossible to find. The quickest way to receive love is to give love, the fastest way to lose love is to hold it too tightly. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do not dismiss your dreams. To be without dreams is to be without hope; to be without hope is to be without purpose.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do not run through life so fast that you forget not only where you have been, but also where you are going.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Life is not a race, but a journey to be savored each step of the way.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;It's nice to be important; but it is more important to be nice.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Great minds discuss ideas, Average minds discuss events, Small minds discuss people.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;To handle yourself, use your mind. To handle others, use your heart.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Remember to Remember me. Forget to forget me. Even if you try to remember to forget me, I will never forget to remember to remind you to remember me. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;They are not any different but it was nice to go thru it once again. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;uff... Memories.... Memories... Memories...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;100 memories, 200 jokes, 300 great times, 400 secrets, 1 reason.... BESTFRIENDS &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-2529862466464301553?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/2529862466464301553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=2529862466464301553&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/2529862466464301553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/2529862466464301553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/11/my-old-diary.html' title='My Old Diary'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RzWCZdipWgI/AAAAAAAAArQ/D7YhJfaWs9s/s72-c/now.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-3544290498817187909</id><published>2007-10-20T23:58:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-10-21T02:53:14.278+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Can it get better than this?</title><content type='html'>Wow! What a day it was......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A day filled with surprises!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes... It was my Bday (Oct 12th) and a special one coz it was the first one after I got committed and the other one of course was coz this was the 25th... Yes my Quarter Century... :) To start with I had someone in my doorstep @ 11:30 in the night (Can you beat that??? ) who had&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123524229210474674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RxpqJBAyiLI/AAAAAAAAApQ/zkLEC4FjhW8/s320/The+Boquet.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;a bouquet, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123524753196484802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RxpqnhAyiMI/AAAAAAAAApY/VGcvVzeKEDg/s320/The+cake.bmp.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;a chocolate cake and &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123525217052952786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RxprChAyiNI/AAAAAAAAApg/dloO291uZk4/s320/My+Teddy.jpg" border="0" /&gt; another parcel (The Teddy) to be delivered to me from NC ofcourse!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A msg from UK @ 11:55 pm wishing me in his own way as he was sure the lines wud b busy @ the right moment... Little did he know that it was already engaged an hr earlier itself :) He did manage to call me too... Thanks Jay! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;To add to this my parents also had a Vanilla cake ready for me so that I could cut @ 12.This cake cutting was telecasted live for my sis in Cuddalore, Jiju in Abu Dhabi and another one in NC. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After that we were speaking until 1:30 in the night after which he asked me to go ahead and catch up some sleep so that I can get up early the next day and dont miss atleast the last bus (07:45 am) to ofc! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I slept and managed to get up by the usual time (05:15 am) and I get a call in 15 mins. He asked me if I was in my room; I said yes I was. Then he asked me to lookup... I was confused... Excuse me! What are you trying to do.... He said don't get tensed :p ... Just lookup and towards ur right; find a cover and there is a gift waiting for me in it... I was SURPRISED...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Whats happening out here? Later on, found out that he had placed it carefully over there when he had come home a fortnight back. Wow! What a surprise it was! I find a Sony Ericssion W810i mobile waiting for me inside that cover. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And yeah got calls and messages from most of my friends and family. As usual Nary missed it this time too! He is being consistent... Every year I tell him that it is not on Oct 14th but on 12th... but he fails to believe me every year! But never mind he never fails to wish me on the 14th of Oct every year... Nary, I am not sure if u did get the date right this time atleast! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cloud9, as its routine did the job of informing my colleagues abt my Bday.... So had to go to Foodworld and get a 5-Star pack for my colleagues. By the time I could send out a mail for the chocs... it was already time for lunch. So no point in sending out a mail for the chocs.. Thought I will send it out after 2pm. At arnd 12, I get a call from someone saying that he has a bouquet waiting for me @ Gate6. In a couple of minutes, I get another call from someone else this time and he says he has a Black Forest Cake waiting for me @ Gate6. Wow! What was happening?? I cudnt speak anythg much... I was running short of words.... I reach Gate 6 and wow! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123526509838108898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RxpsNxAyiOI/AAAAAAAAApo/tLH-PitxuoQ/s320/The+Lovely+Boquet.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123528524177770770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RxpuDBAyiRI/AAAAAAAAAqA/mX_zms52PaA/s320/Roses....jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What a bouquet it was!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5123527467615815938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RxptFhAyiQI/AAAAAAAAAp4/_AEx-XpbJiY/s320/Cake.jpg" border="0" /&gt; And this is the Black Forest Cake! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And of course not to miss out the ecards that he had sent! Very creative and beautiful cards! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I loved it! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What a mindblowing day it was! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-3544290498817187909?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/3544290498817187909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=3544290498817187909&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3544290498817187909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3544290498817187909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/10/can-it-get-better-than-this.html' title='Can it get better than this?'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RxpqJBAyiLI/AAAAAAAAApQ/zkLEC4FjhW8/s72-c/The+Boquet.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-9200234463771387171</id><published>2007-09-26T00:10:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-09-26T12:31:58.864+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Engagement</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RvlWqxAyg-I/AAAAAAAAAVs/Yw29sr2iJkM/s1600-h/Engagement+Ring.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114214144567051234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RvlWqxAyg-I/AAAAAAAAAVs/Yw29sr2iJkM/s320/Engagement+Ring.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;Because of you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My World is now whole&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Because of you &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love lives in my soul&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Because of you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have laughter in my eyes &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My love for you is pure&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;boundless through space and time &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It grows stronger everyday&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;With the knowledge that you will always be mine...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-9200234463771387171?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/9200234463771387171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=9200234463771387171&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/9200234463771387171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/9200234463771387171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/09/engagement.html' title='The Engagement'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RvlWqxAyg-I/AAAAAAAAAVs/Yw29sr2iJkM/s72-c/Engagement+Ring.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-3773975349003169584</id><published>2007-09-10T22:12:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-09-11T08:14:18.776+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Something only love can do . . .</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RuV_5B6GGeI/AAAAAAAAAJY/JcDky2SRqlU/s1600-h/Rose.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108629970063071714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RuV_5B6GGeI/AAAAAAAAAJY/JcDky2SRqlU/s320/Rose.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sometimes you might feel that you'll be happier alone..&lt;br /&gt;But it's always nice to have someone to laze around with..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Someone to think about..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Someone to care about..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Someone to share your joy..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And someone to kiss..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So take a chance..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You'll never know what you will get..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Until you have really tried..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So if there's somebody you miss..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tell them that you do..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cause there's something only love can do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-3773975349003169584?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/3773975349003169584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=3773975349003169584&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3773975349003169584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3773975349003169584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/09/something-only-love-can-do.html' title='Something only love can do . . .'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RuV_5B6GGeI/AAAAAAAAAJY/JcDky2SRqlU/s72-c/Rose.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-5861500765679416743</id><published>2007-07-28T01:59:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-07-28T02:11:58.426+05:30</updated><title type='text'>What Do Women Really Want . . .</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RqpYT_tHOGI/AAAAAAAAAJI/DUJmtetSvKY/s1600-h/You_dont_love_a_woman_because_she_is_beautiful.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091979429237176418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RqpYT_tHOGI/AAAAAAAAAJI/DUJmtetSvKY/s320/You_dont_love_a_woman_because_she_is_beautiful.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Interesting Title?? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Well this is how it goes.... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Young King Arthur was ambushed and imprisoned by the monarch of a neighboring kingdom. The monarch could have killed him, but was moved by Arthur's youthful happiness. So he offered him freedom, as long as he could answer a very difficult question. Arthur would have a year to figure out the answer; if, after a year, he still had no answer, he would be killed. The question was: What do women really want? Such a question would perplex even the most knowledgeable man, and, to young Arthur, it seemed an impossible query. Well, since it was better than death, he accepted the monarch's proposition to have an answer by year's end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He returned to his kingdom and began to poll everybody: the princess, the prostitutes, the priests, the wise men, the court jester. In all, he spoke with everyone but no one could give him a satisfactory answer. What most people did tell him was to consult the old witch, as only she would know the answer. The price would be high, since the witch was famous throughout the kingdom for the exorbitant prices she charged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last day of the year arrived and Arthur had no alternative but to talk to the witch. She agreed to answer his question, but he'd have to accept her price first: The old witch wanted to marry Gawain, the most noble of the Knights of the Round Table and Arthur's closest friend! Young Arthur was horrified: she was hunchbacked and awfully hideous, had only one tooth, smelled like sewage water, often made obscene noises... He had never run across such a repugnant creature. He refused to force his friend to marry her and have to endure such a burden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gawain, upon learning of the proposal, spoke with Arthur. He told him that nothing was too big of a sacrifice compared to Arthur's life and the preservation of the Round Table. Hence, their wedding was proclaimed, and the witch answered Arthur's question:What a woman really wants is to be able to be in charge of her own life. Everyone instantly knew that the witch had uttered a great truth and that Arthur's life would be spared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so it went. The neighboring monarch spared Arthur's life and granted him total freedom. What a wedding Gawain and the witch had! Arthur was torn between relief and anguish. Gawain was proper as always, gentle and courteous. The old witch put her worst manners on display. She ate with her hands, belched and farted, and made everyone uncomfortable.The wedding night approached: Gawain, steeling himself for a horrific night, entered the bedroom. What a sight awaited! The most beautiful woman he'd ever seen lay before him! Gawain was astounded and asked what had happened. The beauty replied that since he had been so kind to her (when she'd been a witch), half the time she would be her horrible, deformed self, and the other half, she would be her beautiful maiden self. Which would he want her to be during the day and which during the night? What a cruel question? Gawain began to think of his predicament: During the day a beautiful woman to show off to his friend, but at night, in the privacy of his home, an old spooky witch? Or would he prefer having by day a hideous witch, but by night a beautiful woman to enjoy many intimate moments? What would you do?What Gawain chose follows below, but don't read until you've made your own choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noble Gawain replied that he would let her choose for herself. Upon hearing this, she announced that she would be beautiful all the time, because he had respected her and had let her be in charge of her own life . . .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-5861500765679416743?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/5861500765679416743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=5861500765679416743&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/5861500765679416743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/5861500765679416743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/07/what-do-women-really-want.html' title='What Do Women Really Want . . .'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RqpYT_tHOGI/AAAAAAAAAJI/DUJmtetSvKY/s72-c/You_dont_love_a_woman_because_she_is_beautiful.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-4074489267694156290</id><published>2007-07-08T16:47:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-07-08T17:10:50.657+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Some Interesting Anagrams</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Snooze Alarms = Alas! No More Z's&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Conversation = Voices Rant On&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Slot Machines = Cash Lost in'em&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The Meaning of Life = The fine game of nil&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The eyes = They see&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A telephone girl = Repeating "Hello"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A telescope = To see place&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Fired = Fried&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;hated = death&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Mother-in-law = Woman Hitler&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The Detectives = Detect Thieves&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A Gentleman = Elegant Man&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A Decimal Point = I'm a Dot in Place&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Debit card = Bad Credit&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-4074489267694156290?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/4074489267694156290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=4074489267694156290&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/4074489267694156290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/4074489267694156290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/07/some-interesting-anagrams.html' title='Some Interesting Anagrams'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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-35345258.post-518785441145359315</id><published>2007-07-06T18:34:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-07-06T18:38:05.349+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Allow Your Own Inner Light to Guide You</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Verdana;"&gt;There comes a time when you must stand alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You must feel confident enough within yourself to follow your own dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You must be willing to make sacrifices.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You must be capable of changing and rearranging your priorities so that your final goal can be achieved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, familiarity and comfort need to be challenged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are times when you must take a few extra chances and create your own realities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be strong enough to at least try to make your life better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be confident enough that you won't settle for a compromise just to get by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Appreciate yourself by allowing yourself the opportunities to grow, develop, and find your true sense of purpose in this life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't stand in someone else's shadow when it's your sunlight that should lead the way.&lt;/span&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/35345258-518785441145359315?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/518785441145359315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=518785441145359315&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/518785441145359315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/518785441145359315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/07/allow-your-own-inner-light-to-guide-you.html' title='Allow Your Own Inner Light to Guide You'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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-35345258.post-425401677639805110</id><published>2007-06-17T00:37:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-06-17T00:38:03.080+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Break on through</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Some days start the way they are supposed to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But most days don’t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Some times you know it right from the start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But most times you don’t. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, right now, a new day begins. And I wonder how this day is going to turn out. I wonder what is in store for me and how it is going to go. There is no &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;‘rightfromthestart’&lt;/span&gt; feeling right now. It is another &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;‘letstakeitasitcomes’&lt;/span&gt; day for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss the days when you know what is going to happen right from the start. In the sense that, it may not be completely planned, but you know it right up front that this is the way the day is going to go. And that is a good feeling. And of course there are those days when you plan everything, and even then you get the feeling that this day may still not go the way you want it to. And it usually does not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As this new day takes shape, it offers many wondrous things to do. Which of course will probably be completely passed on for the ordinary. And it is in this ordinary that birth is given to the amazing. The breaking through of the ordinary is what brings about the amazing. The ordinary is needed. So, we go about creating and dwelling in the ordinary in the hope that someday, we will break on through to the other side. And that side will bring us to the place where we want to be. To give us the days that we want. The days when things go the way they are supposed to and you take life the way you always wanted to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The potential exists in every day. We just need to make it happen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-425401677639805110?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/425401677639805110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=425401677639805110&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/425401677639805110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/425401677639805110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/06/break-on-through.html' title='Break on through'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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-35345258.post-7489575412324247653</id><published>2007-06-02T00:34:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-06-02T01:32:24.668+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Words</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RmB3byjEihI/AAAAAAAAAIM/sD8BQsLNvyo/s1600-h/Words.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RmB3byjEihI/AAAAAAAAAIM/sD8BQsLNvyo/s320/Words.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071184499728222738" border="0" /&gt;  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Georgia;color:black;"  &gt;Words - a Powerful Weapon provided to mankind.&lt;br /&gt;It's up to the individual how best to exploit life with it.&lt;br /&gt;Words influence people....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It can change lives - The effect depends on how words play with you. An encouraging word to someone who is down can encourage them to achieve their goal. A destructive word to the same can have negative effects.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;Words are the most powerful drug used by mankind.&lt;br /&gt;Use soft word sand hard arguments.&lt;br /&gt;Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their "echoes" are truly endless!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Words:&lt;br /&gt;The snow may look smooth and soft,&lt;br /&gt;but the rocks underneath are sharp!&lt;br /&gt;Courtesy - Master Mark Russell.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&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/35345258-7489575412324247653?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/7489575412324247653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=7489575412324247653&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/7489575412324247653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/7489575412324247653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/06/words.html' title='Words'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RmB3byjEihI/AAAAAAAAAIM/sD8BQsLNvyo/s72-c/Words.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-6038150368933867216</id><published>2007-05-20T21:03:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-06-02T01:37:54.031+05:30</updated><title type='text'>When beginnings are not beginnings</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RmB8KijEijI/AAAAAAAAAIc/-owO4RjET7s/s1600-h/childood.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RmB8KijEijI/AAAAAAAAAIc/-owO4RjET7s/s320/childood.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071189700933618226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Sometimes, beginnings are not beginnings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The start of something new does not have to mean change. It can be something that has been waiting to happen. And when it happens, it is expected. And because it is expected, it all falls into place. Coming together the way it is supposed to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, in reality, everything does not happen the way it is supposed to. It starts off the way you want it to, but then life takes over. When life takes over, other things happen. Other things that were waiting in the wings. Little unexpected surprises. Welcome surprises. What you have been waiting for comes together, in the most unexpected of ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RmB8dyjEikI/AAAAAAAAAIk/EGQRKygKUXg/s1600-h/end.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RmB8dyjEikI/AAAAAAAAAIk/EGQRKygKUXg/s320/end.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071190031646100034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-6038150368933867216?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/6038150368933867216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/6038150368933867216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/05/when-beginnings-are-not-beginnings.html' title='When beginnings are not beginnings'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RmB8KijEijI/AAAAAAAAAIc/-owO4RjET7s/s72-c/childood.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-8634739396088127744</id><published>2007-05-20T21:02:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-05-24T08:09:07.560+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Something Happened</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RlT6mijEigI/AAAAAAAAAH8/43ny8T8o5rU/s1600-h/watching_the_sunrise.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5067951020714527234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RlT6mijEigI/AAAAAAAAAH8/43ny8T8o5rU/s320/watching_the_sunrise.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Every once in a while something happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something, that sparks off another thing. And in that little spark lies a big storm. And when you look back at it, you would have never thought at the moment that that little something happened, it was going to spark off a big storm. But if you had known then, you might have done something different, and that spark might not have been created.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that brings about all the ‘what ifs’.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But these are not ‘what ifs’ in the way you normally look at ‘what ifs’. Usually in regret. The way you look at it here is in awe and wonder as to how things happened. And you are grateful for the chain of events. The chain of events, that brought about the spark that stirred up the storm. For if that storm had not happened, you would not be here. Now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-8634739396088127744?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/8634739396088127744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/8634739396088127744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/05/something-happened.html' title='Something Happened'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RlT6mijEigI/AAAAAAAAAH8/43ny8T8o5rU/s72-c/watching_the_sunrise.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-3600079209716886027</id><published>2007-05-20T20:50:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-05-20T21:01:55.644+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Poetess &amp; Her Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RlBoPSjEifI/AAAAAAAAAH0/3P_MBomNUI8/s1600-h/20052007.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RlBoPSjEifI/AAAAAAAAAH0/3P_MBomNUI8/s320/20052007.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066664192678070770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Before the end&lt;br /&gt;Began&lt;br /&gt;The story was over&lt;br /&gt;It died&lt;br /&gt;A premature death&lt;br /&gt;In the hands&lt;br /&gt;Of the poetess&lt;br /&gt;Whose craft was faulty&lt;br /&gt;The story she told&lt;br /&gt;Was not the story&lt;br /&gt;She felt&lt;br /&gt;And the story she felt&lt;br /&gt;Was not the story&lt;br /&gt;She wanted to tell&lt;br /&gt;In her paradox&lt;br /&gt;She muffled her emotions&lt;br /&gt;And the end began&lt;br /&gt;Before it was supposed to&lt;br /&gt;And because that happened&lt;br /&gt;Her characters&lt;br /&gt;Came to life&lt;br /&gt;And lived in the world&lt;br /&gt;They were not supposed to&lt;br /&gt;And the end was over&lt;br /&gt;Before they&lt;br /&gt;Could return&lt;br /&gt;To the craft&lt;br /&gt;Of the poetess&lt;br /&gt;And the poetess&lt;br /&gt;Gave them emotions&lt;br /&gt;That they weren’t supposed&lt;br /&gt;To feel&lt;br /&gt;And things happened&lt;br /&gt;That weren’t supposed&lt;br /&gt;To happen&lt;br /&gt;And in the end&lt;br /&gt;That followed consequently&lt;br /&gt;The poetess&lt;br /&gt;Had to taste&lt;br /&gt;A bitter blood&lt;br /&gt;Mingled with&lt;br /&gt;Her poisonous sweat&lt;br /&gt;And as her imagination died&lt;br /&gt;Her inspiration&lt;br /&gt;Deserted her&lt;br /&gt;Leaving her alone&lt;br /&gt;And lonely&lt;br /&gt;As she was before poetry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-3600079209716886027?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/3600079209716886027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=3600079209716886027&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3600079209716886027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3600079209716886027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/05/poetess-her-story.html' title='The Poetess &amp; Her Story'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RlBoPSjEifI/AAAAAAAAAH0/3P_MBomNUI8/s72-c/20052007.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-3455983058650197176</id><published>2007-05-05T23:56:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-05-06T00:48:43.116+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I Believe</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RjzYaampXtI/AAAAAAAAAHs/dLehhq1Jr5E/s1600-h/Girl.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RjzYaampXtI/AAAAAAAAAHs/dLehhq1Jr5E/s320/Girl.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5061158029587209938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Believe -&lt;br /&gt;That two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different.&lt;br /&gt;I Believe -&lt;br /&gt;Whatever words we utter should be chosen with care, for people will hear them and be influenced by them for good or ill.&lt;br /&gt;I Believe -&lt;br /&gt;That my best friend and I can do anything and nothing and have the best time.&lt;br /&gt;I Believe -&lt;br /&gt;That no matter how good a friend is, they're going to hurt you every once in a while and you must forgive them for that.&lt;br /&gt;I Believe -&lt;br /&gt;That true friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance. Same goes for true love.&lt;br /&gt;I Believe -&lt;br /&gt;That money is a lousy was of keeping score.&lt;br /&gt;I Believe -&lt;br /&gt;That either you control your attitude or it controls you.&lt;br /&gt;I Believe -&lt;br /&gt;That you can keep going, long after you can't.&lt;br /&gt;I Believe -&lt;br /&gt;That just because two people argue, it doesn't mean that they don't love each other. And just because they don't argue, it doesn't mean they do.&lt;br /&gt;I Believe -&lt;br /&gt;That no matter how bad your heart is broken,  the world doesn't stop for your grief.&lt;br /&gt;I Believe -&lt;br /&gt;That you should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time you see them.&lt;br /&gt;I Believe -&lt;br /&gt;That sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you're down, will be the ones to help you get back.&lt;br /&gt;I Believe -&lt;br /&gt;That it isn't always enough to be forgiven by others. Sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself.&lt;br /&gt;I Believe -&lt;br /&gt;That maturity has more to do with what types of experience you've had and what you've learned from them and less to do with how many birthdays you've celebrated.&lt;br /&gt;I Believe -&lt;br /&gt;That sometimes when I am angry I have the right to be angry, but that doesn't give me the right to be cruel.&lt;br /&gt;I Believe -&lt;br /&gt;That your life can be changed in a matter of hours  by people who don't even know you.&lt;br /&gt;I Believe -&lt;br /&gt;That the people you care most in life are taken from you too soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-3455983058650197176?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/3455983058650197176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=3455983058650197176&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3455983058650197176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3455983058650197176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/05/i-believe.html' title='I Believe'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RjzYaampXtI/AAAAAAAAAHs/dLehhq1Jr5E/s72-c/Girl.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-8574410514623861003</id><published>2007-04-30T08:23:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-30T08:26:25.580+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Never Say Forever</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RjVae6mpXrI/AAAAAAAAAHc/w5e7bJSe7-E/s1600-h/mine.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059049243594546866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RjVae6mpXrI/AAAAAAAAAHc/w5e7bJSe7-E/s320/mine.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Never say I love you&lt;br /&gt;If you don’t really care..&lt;br /&gt;Never talk about feelings&lt;br /&gt;If they aren’t really there..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never look into my eyes&lt;br /&gt;If all you do is lie..&lt;br /&gt;Never say hello&lt;br /&gt;If you really mean goodbye..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-8574410514623861003?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/8574410514623861003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=8574410514623861003&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/8574410514623861003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/8574410514623861003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/04/never-say-forever.html' title='Never Say Forever'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RjVae6mpXrI/AAAAAAAAAHc/w5e7bJSe7-E/s72-c/mine.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-6817529782695859132</id><published>2007-04-20T23:01:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-20T23:11:43.899+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Everything Happens For A Reason . . .</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Sometimes people come into our life and you know right away that they were meant to be there to serve some sort of purpose, teach you a lesson or help figure out who you are or who you want to become. You never know who these people may be but you lock eyes with them, you know that very moment that &lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;they will affect your life in some profound way.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;      &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;And sometimes things happen to you at the time that may seem horrible, painful and unfair, but in reflection you realize that without overcoming those obstacles you would never realize your potential, strength, will power or heart.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;    &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;Everything happens for a reason. Nothing happens by chance or by means of luck. Illness, love, lost moments of true greatness and sheer stupidity all occur to test limits of your soul. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;    &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;Without these small tests, life would be like a smoothly paved, straight, flat road to nowhere safe and comfortable but dull and utterly pointless. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;    &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;The people you meet affect your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;The successes and downfalls that you experience can create who you are, and the bad experiences can be learned from. In fact they are probably the most poignant and important ones. If someone hurts you, betrays you or breaks your heart, forgive them because they have helped you learn about trust and the importance of being cautious to whom you open your heart.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Talk to people whom you have never talked to before, and actually listen. Break free and set your sights high. Hold your &lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;head up because you have every right to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Create you own &lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;life and then go out and live it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-6817529782695859132?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/6817529782695859132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=6817529782695859132&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/6817529782695859132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/6817529782695859132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/04/everything-happens-for-reason.html' title='Everything Happens For A Reason . . .'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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-35345258.post-6712832318255734900</id><published>2007-04-12T21:20:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-12T21:25:34.983+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Footprints</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Rh5VlJwxujI/AAAAAAAAAHI/wYC4PGdsUmQ/s1600-h/beach-footprints-01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Rh5VlJwxujI/AAAAAAAAAHI/wYC4PGdsUmQ/s320/beach-footprints-01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052569928720300594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even after the journey is over long long ago&lt;br /&gt;The footprints&lt;br /&gt;Still intact in the heart&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-6712832318255734900?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/6712832318255734900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=6712832318255734900&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/6712832318255734900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/6712832318255734900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/04/footprints.html' title='Footprints'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Rh5VlJwxujI/AAAAAAAAAHI/wYC4PGdsUmQ/s72-c/beach-footprints-01.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-3479450872279235961</id><published>2007-04-08T11:19:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-08T11:25:39.635+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Just a thought</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RhiDXhbJo5I/AAAAAAAAAG0/N5muM9kY8Ec/s1600-h/Tears+can+sometimes+be+more+special+than+smiles.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RhiDXhbJo5I/AAAAAAAAAG0/N5muM9kY8Ec/s320/Tears+can+sometimes+be+more+special+than+smiles.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5050931422228489106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people say that&lt;br /&gt;   you don't know what you have&lt;br /&gt;       until you lost it,&lt;br /&gt;             but it wasn't like that for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always knew&lt;br /&gt;   what I had,&lt;br /&gt;       I just never thought&lt;br /&gt;           I would lost it...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-3479450872279235961?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/3479450872279235961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=3479450872279235961&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3479450872279235961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3479450872279235961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/04/just-thought.html' title='Just a thought'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RhiDXhbJo5I/AAAAAAAAAG0/N5muM9kY8Ec/s72-c/Tears+can+sometimes+be+more+special+than+smiles.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-7368555295649799179</id><published>2007-04-07T16:36:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-07T16:53:45.156+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Feelings</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Rhd-qhbJo4I/AAAAAAAAAGs/MwoLhMq3fjs/s1600-h/Waves.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Rhd-qhbJo4I/AAAAAAAAAGs/MwoLhMq3fjs/s320/Waves.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5050644776111154050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shed what's call feelings,&lt;br /&gt;Long time ago,&lt;br /&gt;But I could not kill it&lt;br /&gt;When I saw the pitiful eyes of it,&lt;br /&gt;It was shivering, Begging me&lt;br /&gt;Not to leave it alone,&lt;br /&gt;Told me that&lt;br /&gt;It will never let anybody hurt me,&lt;br /&gt;Anybody at all&lt;br /&gt;Told me that I will be strong, But so soft though&lt;br /&gt;Dint want to beleive,&lt;br /&gt;How could I?&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't even sure about myself,&lt;br /&gt;I started walking alone.&lt;br /&gt;But everyday when I turn back,&lt;br /&gt;I see my feelings crawling behind me.&lt;br /&gt;I will tell you the truth,&lt;br /&gt;I turn back and see&lt;br /&gt;Just to make sure -&lt;br /&gt;Its coming behind me.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-7368555295649799179?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/7368555295649799179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=7368555295649799179&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/7368555295649799179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/7368555295649799179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/04/feelings.html' title='Feelings'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Rhd-qhbJo4I/AAAAAAAAAGs/MwoLhMq3fjs/s72-c/Waves.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-5174384683921265225</id><published>2007-04-03T19:56:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-03T20:05:37.702+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Mozhi</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RhJmCg-EHkI/AAAAAAAAAGk/EP-d5g8mhVg/s1600-h/blog.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RhJmCg-EHkI/AAAAAAAAAGk/EP-d5g8mhVg/s320/blog.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5049210325631770178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                                A fUntastic movie!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-5174384683921265225?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/5174384683921265225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=5174384683921265225&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/5174384683921265225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/5174384683921265225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/04/mozhi.html' title='Mozhi'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RhJmCg-EHkI/AAAAAAAAAGk/EP-d5g8mhVg/s72-c/blog.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-6978916946628981170</id><published>2007-03-30T20:26:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-30T21:04:38.371+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Life without Girls.......</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Rg0sEg-EHjI/AAAAAAAAAGc/uZD5SpST-SY/s1600-h/Women.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Rg0sEg-EHjI/AAAAAAAAAGc/uZD5SpST-SY/s320/Women.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047739213433544242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"  &gt;The result&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Markets silent..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Streets empty..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;The police at rest..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;All mobile companies in loss..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;No sms..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;No Flowers..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;No Valentine..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;No Candles&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;No Perfumes..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;All the men directed to Heaven . . .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="font-family: arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 10pt; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-6978916946628981170?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/6978916946628981170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=6978916946628981170&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/6978916946628981170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/6978916946628981170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/03/life-without-girls.html' title='Life without Girls.......'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Rg0sEg-EHjI/AAAAAAAAAGc/uZD5SpST-SY/s72-c/Women.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-3137325660395354497</id><published>2007-03-29T20:27:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-29T20:33:52.076+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Sunshine</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RgvVMg-EHhI/AAAAAAAAAGI/W1bdQNdinZo/s1600-h/Friends_know_what_you_want_them_to_know.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RgvVMg-EHhI/AAAAAAAAAGI/W1bdQNdinZo/s320/Friends_know_what_you_want_them_to_know.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047362218384170514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its been 24 years since my parents named me. But none until now has ever called me 'Sunshine'. Thanks dear Friend! This one is for u.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-3137325660395354497?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/3137325660395354497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=3137325660395354497&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3137325660395354497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3137325660395354497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/03/sunshine.html' title='Sunshine'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RgvVMg-EHhI/AAAAAAAAAGI/W1bdQNdinZo/s72-c/Friends_know_what_you_want_them_to_know.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-9002280663839593047</id><published>2007-03-15T20:20:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-16T16:23:05.758+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Just Three Words . . .</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;There are many things that you can do to strengthen your relationships. Often the most effective thing you can do involves saying just three words. When spoken sincerely, these statements often have the power to develop new friendships, deepen old ones and even bring healing to relationships that have sourerd.&lt;br /&gt;The following three-word phrases can be tools to help develop every relationship.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. Let me help&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When Good friends see a hurt they do what they can to heal it. Without being asked, they jump in and help out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. I understand you.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;People become closer and enjoy each other more when the other person accepts and understands them. Letting your friend know - in so many little ways - that you understand them, is one of the most powerful tools for healing your relationship. And this can apply to any relationship.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. I respect you&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Respect is another way of showing love. Respect demonstrates that another person is a true equal. If you talk to children as if they were adults you will strengthen the bonds and become closer friends. This applies to all interpersonal relationships.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. I miss you.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Perhaps more marriages could be saved and strengthened if couples simply and sincerely said to each other "I miss you." This powerful affirmation tells partners they are wanted, needed, desired and loved. Consider how important you would feel, if you received an unexpected phone call from your spouse in the middle of your workday, just to say "I miss you."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. Maybe you're right.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This phrase is very effective in diffusing an argument. The implication when you say "maybe you're right" is the humility of admitting, "maybe I'm wrong". Let's face it. When you have an argument with someone, all you normally do is solidify the other person's point of view. They, or you, will not likely change their position and you run the risk of seriously damaging the relationship between you. Saying "maybe you're right" can open the door to explore the subject more. You may then have the opportunity to express your view in a way that is understandable to the other person.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6. Please forgive me&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Many broken relationships could be restored and healed if people would admit their mistakes and ask for forgiveness. All of us are vulnerable to faults, foibles and failures. A man should never be ashamed to own up that he has been in the wrong, which is saying, in other words, that he is wiser today than he was yesterday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7. I thank you.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Gratitude is an exquisite form of courtesy. People who enjoy the companionship of good, close friends are those who don't take daily courtesies for granted. They are quick to thank their friends for their many expressions of kindness. On the other hand, people whose circle of friends is severely constricted often do not have the attitude of gratitude.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8. Count on me&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A friend is one who walks in when others walk out. Loyalty is an essential ingredient for true friendship. It is the emotional glue that bonds people. Those that are rich in their relationships tend to be steady and true friends. When troubles come, a good friend is there indicating "you can count on me."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;9. I'll be there&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;If you have ever had to call a friend in the middle of the night, to take a sick child to hospital, or when your car has broken down some miles from home, you will know how good it feels to hear the phrase "I'll be there." Being there for another person is the greatest gift we can give. When we are truly present for other people, important things happen to them and us. We are renewed in love and friendship. We are restored emotionally and spiritually. Being there is at the very core of civility.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10. Go for it&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We are all unique individuals. Don't try to get your friends to conform to your ideals. Support them in pursuing their interests, no matter how far out they seem to you. God has given everyone dreams, dreams that are unique to that person only. Support and encourage your friends to follow their dreams. Tell them to "go for it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;B o n u s :&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;11. I love you&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Perhaps the most important three words that you can say. Telling someone that you truly love them satisfies a person's deepest emotional needs. The need to belong, to feel appreciated and to be wanted. Your spouse, your children, your friends and you, all need to hear those three little words: "I love you." Love is a choice. You can love even when the feeling is gone.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-9002280663839593047?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/9002280663839593047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=9002280663839593047&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/9002280663839593047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/9002280663839593047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/03/just-three-words.html' title='Just Three Words . . .'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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-35345258.post-75337401421829478</id><published>2007-03-05T21:22:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-16T22:52:24.262+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Mozhi</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Galant;"&gt;A movie in Tamil; meaning Language. I have not watched the movie but got to see few scenes from the movie. But I am very eager to watch the movie. I will definitely give it a shot once it is released in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Galant;"&gt;&lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Bangalore&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Galant;"&gt;. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Galant;"&gt;From the trailer got to know that the story goes something like this:&lt;br /&gt;There is this gal who is deprived of the power of hearing and speech. And this guy working in the music field falls in love with this gal. He falls in love with this gal even though he knows that she is deprived of the power of hearing and speech. He learns the sign language with which he can communicate better with her and also understand her better. He proposes to her and I am not sure how the story ends. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Galant;"&gt;There was one scene from the trailer which actually touched me. The dialogue goes something like this. (Not very exact though)&lt;br /&gt;He: When I see the moon I get reminded of a story which my mother had told me when I was small.&lt;br /&gt;She: My mother has never told me a story.&lt;br /&gt;He: If you miss someone a lot and look at the moon you can see them in the moon. I used to miss my grandma a lot! So when I was small I used to look at the moon and the grandma in the moon will resemble my grandma. Have you ever missed someone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;She: No.&lt;br /&gt;He: Haven’t you missed anyone in this world at all?&lt;br /&gt;She: No….&lt;br /&gt; &lt;!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Galant;"&gt;I was taken aback. Could there be someone who have all their dear family friends and loved ones close to them that they will not miss them at all? If yes then he/she is very lucky. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Galant;"&gt;When I watched this I got reminded of my college days. In the night when I used to turn towards the sea it’s just me, the vast sea, the cool breeze and the beautiful moon. The feeling is too good. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Galant;"&gt;The story also is very true. As I stayed in the hostel; used to miss my parents a lot. The moon gives you good company that you tend to forget all the loneliness in the world. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-75337401421829478?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/75337401421829478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=75337401421829478&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/75337401421829478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/75337401421829478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/03/mozhi.html' title='Mozhi'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-8466003636184248814</id><published>2007-03-03T12:53:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-03T13:11:42.289+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Don't Make Anyone Feel Small . . .</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Rekmjn9sR_I/AAAAAAAAAF0/mmRqKQMry-8/s1600-h/The_Best_Medicine.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Rekmjn9sR_I/AAAAAAAAAF0/mmRqKQMry-8/s320/The_Best_Medicine.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037600051655624690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Do not belittle the other person. Do not make him feel small. Do not criticize him or find fault with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;No one likes to be criticized. Look for good qualities in others and appreciate them. When you appreciate others, you draw out the best that is in them. Appreciate your friends, your loved ones, your parents, children. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Never scold children. When you scold them, you stifle the life-force that is within them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Mr.X asked a little boy:- "My child, what is your name?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;He answered:- "At school, they call me Ramesh. At home, I am called &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Ramesh-don't."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Mr.X could not understand. And he explained:- "At school they call me Ramesh. But whenever I am at home, they always tell me, Ramesh don't behave like this, Ramesh don't speak like this, Ramesh don't sit like this, Ramesh don't talk like this!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Appreciate &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;children. Appreciate your loved ones. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Women have complained:- &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;"There was a time when our husbands gave us many pledges, but all that has become part of history. Today, they pay no attention to us. They take us for granted."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Tonight, as you return to your homes, go and tell your loved one:- "Honey, where would I have been without you?" Those few, simple words can enact a miracle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-8466003636184248814?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/8466003636184248814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=8466003636184248814&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/8466003636184248814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/8466003636184248814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/03/dont-make-anyone-feel-small.html' title='Don&apos;t Make Anyone Feel Small . . .'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Rekmjn9sR_I/AAAAAAAAAF0/mmRqKQMry-8/s72-c/The_Best_Medicine.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-3958947188727882843</id><published>2007-03-02T16:59:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-02T17:00:41.888+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RegK0X9sR8I/AAAAAAAAAFU/-JCkeeIzsak/s1600-h/(4MinutesPerDay-05)_Life_without_friendship.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037288078116145090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RegK0X9sR8I/AAAAAAAAAFU/-JCkeeIzsak/s320/(4MinutesPerDay-05)_Life_without_friendship.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-3958947188727882843?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/3958947188727882843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=3958947188727882843&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3958947188727882843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3958947188727882843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/03/life.html' title='Life'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RegK0X9sR8I/AAAAAAAAAFU/-JCkeeIzsak/s72-c/(4MinutesPerDay-05)_Life_without_friendship.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-3096306927449431840</id><published>2007-02-18T00:35:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-02-18T00:55:07.075+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Confused</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RddSaG7LVdI/AAAAAAAAAEA/UY2pIDvKGNg/s1600-h/Picture1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RddSaG7LVdI/AAAAAAAAAEA/UY2pIDvKGNg/s320/Picture1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5032581717098714578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;How do I decide? Most of the things we decide are not what we know to be the best. We say yes, merely because we are driven into a corner and must say something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RddSzm7LVeI/AAAAAAAAAEI/obCnkwkYeyM/s1600-h/Picture2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RddSzm7LVeI/AAAAAAAAAEI/obCnkwkYeyM/s320/Picture2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5032582155185378786" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I reject for no reason at all. All that I asked for is present but no nothing seems to have that spark. How do I know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RddTJm7LVfI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/AHDcsapLDck/s1600-h/Picture3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RddTJm7LVfI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/AHDcsapLDck/s320/Picture3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5032582533142500850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I am not in a position to give a proper reason to reject. Obviously they get wild and I need to pay for the damage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RddV1W7LViI/AAAAAAAAAEo/x5ISjYINSUk/s1600-h/Picture6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RddV1W7LViI/AAAAAAAAAEo/x5ISjYINSUk/s320/Picture6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5032585483785033250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I never knew it was this complicated. What do I tell them? How can I explain? Sometimes I think I should be here and other times probably there. I can give good reasoning to why I should stay here and why I should stay there also. But where is it finally going to be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RddT2G7LVhI/AAAAAAAAAEg/s5dJeQ_ZENA/s1600-h/Picture4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RddT2G7LVhI/AAAAAAAAAEg/s5dJeQ_ZENA/s320/Picture4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5032583297646679570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;People get pissed off coz they don’t understand why I keep changing my decision. Yes I know you guys get tired but common it’s my life.In the fight for survival, a tie or split decision simply will not do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RddWMm7LVjI/AAAAAAAAAEw/GE7NIkm04pI/s1600-h/Picture1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RddWMm7LVjI/AAAAAAAAAEw/GE7NIkm04pI/s320/Picture1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5032585883216991794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And finally, try to find your deepest issue in every confusion, and abide by that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-3096306927449431840?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/3096306927449431840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=3096306927449431840&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3096306927449431840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3096306927449431840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/02/confused.html' title='Confused'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RddSaG7LVdI/AAAAAAAAAEA/UY2pIDvKGNg/s72-c/Picture1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-5070721472431533658</id><published>2007-02-16T23:21:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-02-17T00:03:23.205+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A chance to start anew</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RdX4SG7LVcI/AAAAAAAAAD0/Sl-g-5exwCo/s1600-h/Blog.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RdX4SG7LVcI/AAAAAAAAAD0/Sl-g-5exwCo/s320/Blog.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5032201148636550594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How often we wish for another chance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;To make a fresh beginning&lt;br /&gt;A chance to blot out our mistakes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;And change failure into winning.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;It does not take a special time&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;To make a brand-new start,&lt;br /&gt;It only takes the deep desire&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;To try with all our heart.&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;          &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;To live a little better&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;To always be forgiving.&lt;br /&gt;To add a little sunshine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;In a world for which we’re living.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Never give up in despair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Nor think you are through,&lt;br /&gt;For there’s always a tomorrow,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;A chance to start anew.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-5070721472431533658?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/5070721472431533658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=5070721472431533658&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/5070721472431533658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/5070721472431533658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/02/chance-to-start-anew.html' title='A chance to start anew'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RdX4SG7LVcI/AAAAAAAAAD0/Sl-g-5exwCo/s72-c/Blog.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-8461305550673875966</id><published>2007-02-15T20:26:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-02-15T20:42:55.493+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Unspeakable Memories</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RdR1Vm7LVbI/AAAAAAAAADo/fseWND53qM8/s1600-h/Blog.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RdR1Vm7LVbI/AAAAAAAAADo/fseWND53qM8/s320/Blog.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031775697766143410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                        Silent unspeakable memories&lt;br /&gt;Interesting Quotes -&lt;br /&gt;Love is the history of a woman's life; it is an episode in man's.&lt;br /&gt;Friendship often ends in love; but love in friendship--never.&lt;br /&gt;There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.&lt;br /&gt;It's so great to find one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life.&lt;br /&gt;Successful marriage requires falling in love many times, and always with the same person.&lt;span style=";font-size:14;color:black;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;There is no spectacle on earth more appealing than that of a beautiful woman in the act of cooking dinner for someone she loves.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-8461305550673875966?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/8461305550673875966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=8461305550673875966&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/8461305550673875966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/8461305550673875966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/02/unspeakable-memories.html' title='Unspeakable Memories'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RdR1Vm7LVbI/AAAAAAAAADo/fseWND53qM8/s72-c/Blog.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-6649063954267614206</id><published>2007-02-14T19:59:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-02-14T20:43:49.559+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Wordsworth</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RdMlBm7LVaI/AAAAAAAAADY/gaQ35wpPovI/s1600-h/GM.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RdMlBm7LVaI/AAAAAAAAADY/gaQ35wpPovI/s320/GM.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031405918261826978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A very apt name to the famous  English Poet.&lt;br /&gt;This weekend was clearing up stuff at home when I came across the slam book which was signed by my friends from college. Remembered each and every one of them as I was reading the book. But failed to remember some. There was one which caught my interest. He was a good old senior of mine. Ganesh... Some call him Gunzz... and some Gunny... These were some thing which he had to tell me:&lt;br /&gt;U r the best judge of urself. No one can come close to it. - Good line&lt;br /&gt;He also quoted Wordsworth:&lt;br /&gt;"The woods are Lovely, dark &amp;amp; deep,&lt;br /&gt;But you have Promises to Keep,&lt;br /&gt;And Miles to go before you Sleep,&lt;br /&gt;And Miles to go before you Sleep."&lt;br /&gt;Something very apt to be written in the Slam Book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happened in the past makes people what they are now. Some people are trapped in the past and some are unstable because they lost their past. Look at the past, face it and come to grips with it... that's true internal strength.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-6649063954267614206?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/6649063954267614206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=6649063954267614206&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/6649063954267614206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/6649063954267614206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/02/wordsworth.html' title='Wordsworth'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RdMlBm7LVaI/AAAAAAAAADY/gaQ35wpPovI/s72-c/GM.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-5423016745093508937</id><published>2007-02-13T19:55:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-02-13T20:08:38.930+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Don't Hurt Anyone!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RdHOCG7LVXI/AAAAAAAAAC8/dbAxhDA_Nok/s1600-h/First.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RdHOCG7LVXI/AAAAAAAAAC8/dbAxhDA_Nok/s320/First.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031028794363434354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It only takes a few seconds to hurt people you love, and it can take years to heal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RdHLnm7LVUI/AAAAAAAAACM/6IddPQWLw50/s1600-h/First.JPG"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-5423016745093508937?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/5423016745093508937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=5423016745093508937&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/5423016745093508937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/5423016745093508937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/02/dont-hurt-anyone.html' title='Don&apos;t Hurt Anyone!'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RdHOCG7LVXI/AAAAAAAAAC8/dbAxhDA_Nok/s72-c/First.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-3399566867578063464</id><published>2007-02-12T00:43:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-02-12T00:56:28.361+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Is that U?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Rc9tw27LVQI/AAAAAAAAABo/g8B60A1PXRQ/s1600-h/Gal.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Rc9tw27LVQI/AAAAAAAAABo/g8B60A1PXRQ/s320/Gal.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5030359994941003010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;pinch&gt;&lt;pinch&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pinch.... Pinch...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/pinch&gt;&lt;/pinch&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;pinch&gt;&lt;pinch&gt; &lt;/pinch&gt;&lt;/pinch&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Should I believe this? &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Or….. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;No no…. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;This is real…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am not dreaming. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am alive and yes wide awake! &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I saw it just now. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am very Happy. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Thank God!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I knew you were with me all along. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I don’t blame you for taking your time. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am happy that it has happened. Finally! &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Thank U!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Rc9svW7LVPI/AAAAAAAAABY/RX5Jvo_ujGk/s1600-h/Love.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Rc9svW7LVPI/AAAAAAAAABY/RX5Jvo_ujGk/s320/Love.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5030358869659571442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Love While you Live!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-3399566867578063464?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/3399566867578063464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=3399566867578063464&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3399566867578063464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3399566867578063464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/02/is-that-u.html' title='Is that U?'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Rc9tw27LVQI/AAAAAAAAABo/g8B60A1PXRQ/s72-c/Gal.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-6585718276039449436</id><published>2007-02-09T22:16:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-02-07T08:33:40.312+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Valentine's Special</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Rcym0G7LVNI/AAAAAAAAABE/4hY-P8CEfh4/s1600-h/image001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Rcym0G7LVNI/AAAAAAAAABE/4hY-P8CEfh4/s320/image001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5029578298008229074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Once, there was this guy, who was in love with a gal. She wasn't the most beautiful and  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;gorgeous but for him, she was everything. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;He used to dream about her, about spending the rest of life with her. His friends told him, &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;"Why do you dream so much about her, when you don't even know if she loves you or not? &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;First tell her your feelings, and get to know if she likes you or not". &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;He felt that was the right way. The girl knew from the beginning, that this guy loves her. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;One day when he proposed, she rejected him.&lt;span style="font-size: 24pt;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;His friends thought he would take to alcohol; drugs etc. and ruin his life.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;To their surprise, he was not depressed.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt; When they asked him how was it that he is not sad, he replied, &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;"'Why should I feel bad? I lost one who never loved me &amp; she lost the one &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;who really loved and cared for her." &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt; Never Cry for One Who Makes You Cry! &lt;/span&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/35345258-6585718276039449436?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/6585718276039449436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=6585718276039449436&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/6585718276039449436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/6585718276039449436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/02/valentines-special.html' title='Valentine&apos;s Special'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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/_lGOYKG_1GSM/Rcym0G7LVNI/AAAAAAAAABE/4hY-P8CEfh4/s72-c/image001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-3444197634768985863</id><published>2007-02-03T17:19:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-02-03T18:01:07.087+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Fate</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RcR_5868lQI/AAAAAAAAAA4/oRGa60TAgxE/s1600-h/baby-portrait-night-1a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RcR_5868lQI/AAAAAAAAAA4/oRGa60TAgxE/s320/baby-portrait-night-1a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5027283717634954498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Are we all destined to do what we are doing?&lt;br /&gt;Be where we are........&lt;br /&gt;Have done what we have already done and regretting for.....&lt;br /&gt;Is everything already written somewhere about our future?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-3444197634768985863?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/3444197634768985863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=3444197634768985863&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3444197634768985863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/3444197634768985863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/02/fate.html' title='Fate'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RcR_5868lQI/AAAAAAAAAA4/oRGa60TAgxE/s72-c/baby-portrait-night-1a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-1053569485700488821</id><published>2007-01-26T23:20:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-02-09T22:38:21.474+05:30</updated><title type='text'>He - She</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RbpFCTMlVxI/AAAAAAAAAAY/BzoR9LnWrOA/s1600-h/untitled.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RbpFCTMlVxI/AAAAAAAAAAY/BzoR9LnWrOA/s320/untitled.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5024404240100316946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She kept thinking about it over and over again.&lt;br /&gt;She had never expected him to ...&lt;br /&gt;But yes it was he who ...&lt;br /&gt;But then why did he ...&lt;br /&gt;She said that only out of jealousy...&lt;br /&gt;But then she never got a chance to explain what happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;          Anger and jealousy can no more bear to lose sight of their objects than   love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was angry and decided the plan.&lt;br /&gt;It was planned too well for her not to believe it. Even after she was told that it was all mere acting she still dint believe it.&lt;br /&gt;He was a genius. But she dint know that he would act this good.&lt;br /&gt;She was shattered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is difficult to see the picture when you are inside the frame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then now she is happy for all that -                Every problem has a gift for you in its hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later she analyzed the situation...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would she have done if she was in the same situation as him??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perfectly right - The same way he did it.&lt;br /&gt;But would not have acted like how he did... She would have ignored him totally.&lt;br /&gt;That would be best way she could have punished him...&lt;br /&gt;But not as severe as how he had done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are patient in one moment of anger, you will escape a hundred days   of sorrow.  -- He and She.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-1053569485700488821?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/1053569485700488821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=1053569485700488821&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/1053569485700488821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/1053569485700488821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/01/he-she.html' title='He - She'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://bp2.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RbpFCTMlVxI/AAAAAAAAAAY/BzoR9LnWrOA/s72-c/untitled.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-4405233136626242767</id><published>2007-01-04T21:42:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-01-07T09:54:42.821+05:30</updated><title type='text'>My Blog</title><content type='html'>Some say it is haunting...  - Thanks for the comment :)&lt;br /&gt;Some don't say anything... - Silent Readers&lt;br /&gt;Some had their own doubts.. (which were later clarified)...&lt;br /&gt;But yeah a good friend of mine was perplexed... - What do I say scared is that the right word that I should use?&lt;br /&gt;He said I look like a very cheerful person but...&lt;br /&gt;He said he dint expect this from me..&lt;br /&gt;But yeah I write this too my friend.&lt;br /&gt;He said that I needed a BREAK ASAP.&lt;br /&gt;Do you think this is the solution??&lt;br /&gt;His reaction actually shocked me&lt;br /&gt;I write what ever I feel like..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Traffic&lt;br /&gt;Passing by&lt;br /&gt;The sound lingers&lt;br /&gt;Until replaced with another&lt;br /&gt;Like memories that fade out&lt;br /&gt;And then wait to be replaced&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes the cycle breaks making memories eternal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RaB12cuoH_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/CRwCpL1cQro/s1600-h/friendship.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RaB12cuoH_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/CRwCpL1cQro/s400/friendship.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5017139563175878642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Thanks dear friend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-4405233136626242767?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/4405233136626242767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=4405233136626242767&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/4405233136626242767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/4405233136626242767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2007/01/my-blog.html' title='My Blog'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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://bp3.blogger.com/_lGOYKG_1GSM/RaB12cuoH_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/CRwCpL1cQro/s72-c/friendship.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-4566307352782645284</id><published>2006-12-01T15:00:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-12-01T15:18:40.457+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Graffiti</title><content type='html'>God's Busy&lt;br /&gt;Can I help you??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is one interesting graffiti that I read today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-4566307352782645284?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/4566307352782645284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=4566307352782645284&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/4566307352782645284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/4566307352782645284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2006/12/graffiti.html' title='Graffiti'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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-35345258.post-9127894363223757750</id><published>2006-11-29T08:18:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-11-29T08:44:10.386+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Should I or Shouldn't I???</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/4970/4314/1600/661421/Destiny.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/4970/4314/400/500310/Destiny.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/4970/4314/1600/452379/Destiny.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is something which many of us would have thought many a time....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have also come across this question many a time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For - "Today, if you are not confused, you are just not thinking clearly. "&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But this time it is for a different reason.. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Very different reason. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;By taking this decision I hope I dont have to regret later. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I know there is no Control Z in real life.... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A very careful decision to be made. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some say it is all your luck some say fate...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think - Men are not prisoners of fate, but only prisoners of their own minds. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yeah I have been thinking for quiet a long time about this. Discussed with friends too...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some say I ask too much.. But I feel I am worthy of what I ask. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But will I get what I am asking for? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-9127894363223757750?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/9127894363223757750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=9127894363223757750&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/9127894363223757750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/9127894363223757750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2006/11/should-i-or-shouldnt-i.html' title='Should I or Shouldn&apos;t I???'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-6226638390909677444</id><published>2006-11-25T13:50:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-11-25T13:53:40.245+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Mirror</title><content type='html'>And in another world&lt;br /&gt;Things happened differently&lt;br /&gt;The way they were&lt;br /&gt;Supposed to happen&lt;br /&gt;And in this world&lt;br /&gt;Things happened differently&lt;br /&gt;The way they were&lt;br /&gt;Not supposed to happen&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-6226638390909677444?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/6226638390909677444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=6226638390909677444&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/6226638390909677444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/6226638390909677444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2006/11/mirror.html' title='Mirror'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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-35345258.post-116226835579711575</id><published>2006-10-31T09:45:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-10-31T09:56:31.426+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Life and Lies!</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;You will have to forgive me. And forget me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked as if she had seen a ghost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But I love you.&lt;br /&gt;So what? It wouldn't work.&lt;br /&gt;It will. Just give it a chance. It will. It will.&lt;br /&gt;No, it wouldn't.&lt;br /&gt;But I love you. I love you. I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her voice reverberated hollow in her ears. She might as well have been talking to the empty walls. For suddenly, for some unfathomable reason he was cruelty personified. Sometimes love isn't good enough. Sometimes truth isn't good enough. Sometimes, nothing is good enough. She helplessly saw him go away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Years later.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hey, who'd have thought we'd meet again this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She tried to feign cheerfulness and normalcy. She tried to act unperturbed. She wished inwardly her heart would flutter a little less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Yeah, it is. Errr..... you think we could.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She almost cut him midway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hey, great news at my end. I found someone after we split. He loves me like crazy. And I am so happy to have him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You never really let me complete. You think we could start from where we left again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He spoke as if he had never heard her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Uh, no. I love him. I love him. I love him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can't. You always loved me. Me. Me. For all those wasted years, how could you be so stupid? Why did you let me go away??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did you have to go away?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know. But I want to be back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why? I love him. I love him. I love him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You love me.&lt;/strong&gt; And this both of us know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But I still love him,&lt;/strong&gt; she faintly whispered one last time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You shall love no one. You love me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He screamed. Suddenly he was conviction personified.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She smiled a sad smile. There was a time she screamed and shouted the truth and nothing happened. And after all these years, just a lie, a lie whispered softly had worked wonders.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, sometimes love isn't good enough. Lies are.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-116226835579711575?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/116226835579711575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=116226835579711575&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/116226835579711575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/116226835579711575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2006/10/life-and-lies.html' title='Life and Lies!'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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-35345258.post-116217951942991189</id><published>2006-10-30T09:07:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-11-01T19:19:50.043+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I have stopped existing in your world</title><content type='html'>I mean, I do exist but only just about. It is not a struggle for life or anything like that. I have just blended in and am now in a dark forgotten corner. The rage has simmered to memory. And I just lie there. And watch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-116217951942991189?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/116217951942991189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=116217951942991189&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/116217951942991189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/116217951942991189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2006/10/i-have-stopped-existing-in-your-world.html' title='I have stopped existing in your world'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-116192021377322723</id><published>2006-10-27T08:49:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-10-27T09:06:53.780+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;The howling wind in the background faded, as this part of the conversation came to life ... &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3410/3930/320/blog.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;"&lt;strong&gt;Let's play a game&lt;/strong&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;"And what game is this?"&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;strong&gt;Well, it won't be a game anymore if I tell you what it is.&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;"But you need to tell me the rules at least."&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;strong&gt;You will figure out the rules, as you go along&lt;/strong&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;"But what if I make mistakes?"&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;strong&gt;You will learn from those mistakes&lt;/strong&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;"That is not fair."&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;strong&gt;Yes, I know.&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;"Then it might be a game to you, but not to me."&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;strong&gt;Who said it was a game to you? I just said 'Let's play a game&lt;/strong&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;"Okay, let's assume that I play along. How will I know that I have won?"&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;strong&gt;You won't&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;"I won't know I have won, or I won't win?"&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;strong&gt;Whichever way you want to look at it&lt;/strong&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;"I need some answers here."&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;strong&gt;You won't know if you have won even if you win, as a consequence you will not win&lt;/strong&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;"Why should I play the game at all?"&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;strong&gt;Because it is not a game to you&lt;/strong&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;"Then what is it?"&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;strong&gt;Your life&lt;/strong&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... &lt;em&gt;The howling wind came back to life, and this part on, the conversation faded. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-116192021377322723?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/116192021377322723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=116192021377322723&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/116192021377322723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/116192021377322723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2006/10/life.html' title='Life'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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-35345258.post-116015102321113150</id><published>2006-10-06T21:32:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-10-15T19:20:20.100+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Quit</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3410/3930/1600/INGPCYHE0838.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3410/3930/400/INGPCYHE0838.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today one of my friend quit my office to join some other place. When I asked her why is she quitting she said.. "Better Oppurtunities!!" :) Later in the evening.. ! was just thinking... "Many people quit looking for work when they find a job. " LOL!! Wha say ppl?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-116015102321113150?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/116015102321113150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=116015102321113150&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/116015102321113150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/116015102321113150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2006/10/quit.html' title='Quit'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35345258.post-116006560465661876</id><published>2006-10-05T21:43:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-10-06T08:54:55.490+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Alone...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3410/3930/1600/test1.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3410/3930/400/test1.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sit alone,&lt;br /&gt;While everyone goes by.&lt;br /&gt;I sit alone beyond the purple desert,&lt;br /&gt;and over the black snow.&lt;br /&gt;I sit alone&lt;br /&gt;I sit alone while the secrets of life rot inside.&lt;br /&gt;Why I left,I don’t know why&lt;br /&gt;thats why I sit alone . . .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-116006560465661876?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/116006560465661876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=116006560465661876&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/116006560465661876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/116006560465661876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2006/10/alone.html' title='Alone...'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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-35345258.post-115995697462760929</id><published>2006-10-04T15:39:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-10-04T15:46:14.636+05:30</updated><title type='text'>What are we doing?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3410/3930/1600/unlived-life.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3410/3930/400/unlived-life.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have a class of young strong men and women, and they want to give their lives to something. Advertising has these people chasing cars and clothes they don't need. Generations have been working in jobs they hate, just so they can buy what they don't really need.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-115995697462760929?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/115995697462760929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=115995697462760929&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/115995697462760929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/115995697462760929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2006/10/what-are-we-doing.html' title='What are we doing?'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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-35345258.post-115987344632919793</id><published>2006-10-03T16:26:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-10-04T15:50:04.516+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Insane</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3410/3930/1600/feeling-in-love.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3410/3930/400/feeling-in-love.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3410/3930/1600/struggle_a_little.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3410/3930/1600/feeling-in-love.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were good friends. That’s what she thought..... But as time progressed he started acting strange. He stopped all contacts with her. She thought he was busy preparing himself for the future. After they parted ways he started conversing with her again. They started talking as how they used to when they were friends. While conversing he told her about someone whom he likes but then not sure if it was the same case with her also. It was good to know how he felt about her. Later she came to know that he had been talking about her only all the while.&lt;br /&gt;She gave her consent and the relationship was going on good. Until one day when he said all this needs to stop. She dint understand what was happening. When she asked the reason he said that he was “insane” when he said all that. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-115987344632919793?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/115987344632919793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=115987344632919793&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/115987344632919793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/115987344632919793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2006/10/insane.html' title='Insane'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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-35345258.post-115978175226979139</id><published>2006-10-02T14:51:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-10-02T15:05:52.276+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Life is a tragedy for those who feel, and a comedy for those who think.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3410/3930/1600/Child.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3410/3930/320/Child.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is traveled only once, today's moment becomes tomorrow's memory, enjoy every moment of life whether good or bad, because the gift of life is life itself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-115978175226979139?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/115978175226979139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=115978175226979139&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/115978175226979139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/115978175226979139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2006/10/life-is-tragedy-for-those-who-feel-and.html' title='Life is a tragedy for those who feel, and a comedy for those who think.'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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-35345258.post-115971831932551229</id><published>2006-10-01T21:26:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-10-03T21:25:39.746+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Control Z</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3410/3930/1600/test.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there any mechanism by which I can undo somthing which I have done quiet sometime back? "Words once spoken and hearts once broken can never be taken back / can never be put back." Very rightly said! I am still repenting for something which I said about five years back. I tried explaining but he never seem to understand. It was not his fault at all. Even if I was he I would have reacted even worse. But yes it was all my fault. :( I need to do go thru all this.... I very badly want to undo all that I said. How will it be if I had not said it? I actually dint mean it. But he wont listen to what I have to say. But do I have another chance where I can explain myself better?? Do you have the time this time to listen to what I have to say? "They may forget what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel." Very truly said! I think this is very strong a feeling to be expressed in the first post itself... Have any one of you felt like this at any point of time in your life? -- Love arrives on tiptoe and bangs the door when it leaves.......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35345258-115971831932551229?l=getsurya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/feeds/115971831932551229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35345258&amp;postID=115971831932551229&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/115971831932551229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35345258/posts/default/115971831932551229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://getsurya.blogspot.com/2006/10/control-z.html' title='Control Z'/><author><name>Surya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16618453076679924592</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></feed>
