The best dreams....



The best dreams are the one which keep you awake at night...

The last few weeks, some of my very favourite dreams have kept me awake... The Sun rises really early in Germany, I know, coz I have been sleeping at 4 in the morning, consistently, for the last few weeks...

Getting your book published is like nurturing a baby. You hav
e to keep it in wraps... nurture it... and one day when it's ready, lead it out to the world..

I am generally calm about everything but lately, I have been a little jittery. I keep thinking about the book... There is just too much work actually. Sometimes the cover is not right, sometimes there is a problem with the cover, sometimes the website wont load, sometimes the flash file that I am working on crashes.... There are times when I get up at 5 in the morning, go to the kitchen and wonder why I came there in the first place.... I return back, and then I realise that I was thirsty! I go to sleep anyway...

I have kept you guys in the dark enough... But today is the day I unveil the cover of my Novel.





Now there's an interesting story about the cover.

You see, the cover that was sent to me by the Publishers, though lovely, looked like a out of a Mills&Boons novel. There was this couple kissing and stuff. My mother and sister saw the poster and were slightly scandalized. I knew the cover had to go. Ever since my kid sister started bossing me around, I have decided, never do anything that the sister doesnt like. I like to be safe. Period.

So, my editor called me and said that if I were to reject that cover, I had to come up with a new one within a night.

I worked on it for some time. What I came up with was almost as Milly&Boony as the previous cover. I realized that this was the work of a real nerd. Someone so nerdy, that his life would revolve around Sci-fi movies, Autocad software and Cartoon Network.

In Pushkar Sheth, I found that nerd. The weird thing about guy friends is, that you dont really have to ask/request them to do stuff... You just tell them. We worked on the cover in the night (in different rooms on different continents) and by morning we had 2-3 nerdy covers, with the above mentioned cover being the nerdiest of all...

My European friends have asked me what does the cover mean... I explain it here :)

The HOW has a square sign, indicating that getting his girl back, wasnt that straight forward. The 'i' is an imaginary number, implying lack of confidence in the guy.
The girl is presented as Girl++, like the programming language C++, implying his failure to understand them.
The heart is the best part. The heart has what we engineers like to call - dimensioning. Dimensioning is used to measure things. Here, the guy is trying to measure his heart and thus, the feelings that it embodies!
Deep no?


I hope you guys like the cover. Do let me know what you think about it in the comments section.

I have also been working on the Flash Teaser for the novel. Most of my friends who have seen the teaser, like it... I am currently also working on the website where you can have more information about the Novel, like excerpts, Q&A with the writer, synopsis, the works you know...

I can show you the teaser, but I am too shy to show the website. The teaser came out pretty well, but the site, though informative, isn’t what you call dhinchak! The reason for that being than neither me nor my friend is a computer engineer. And I don’t really have the money to hire people to do this. So the website might take some time before I learn some stuff about making a website.

Anyway, here is the flash teaser I was talking bout... http://www.swfcabin.com/open/1276689382

If you like/dislike it, you let me know...



My friends in India as well as in Germany have been asking me for signed copies once the book comes out. Everytime someone asks me for a free copy, I feel bad that I get only 10 complimentary free copies. Yes, that’s right. Only 10. If you are Salman Rushdie, then you might get 10 dancing ladies with hundreds of free copies... But I am not him, not even close, so no dancing ladies for me. And only 10 copies.

What I can do is, I can get you guys a discount so instead of the market price, you will get it at a cheaper price, but that’s all. If you stay in India and read The Time Pass of India, do send me a mail across at arshat.chaudhary@gmail.com. I will make sure you get your pre-launch copies at cheaper prices.



Some dreams are good. They give you that tinkling feeling in your belly. The kind you got when you were about to kiss for the first time.

Some dreams are not so good. They give you the chills. The kind you got when were caught copying in the 4th grade. Sometimes I dream that no one is buying my novel. I dream that - I ask the publisher when he’s coming out with the second print, and he says no one has bought a single copy from the first print. Sometimes I feel my friends will not buy my Novel because they expect me to send them one. And it’s out of my control to buy so many of my own copies and ship them all over the world.



I couldn’t have asked for better friends. My friends at ESCP, MDI(Gurgaon), SPCE(Mumbai) and Siemens(India) have been more than encouraging. All my friends in Berlin, Indians, Germans and from all over the world have been extremely supporting. The foreigners (actually I myself am a foreigner in Germany) have been so excited about the whole thing. I guess they see a bit of bollywood in the teaser.

Rahul Sindal, my roommate has seen me change from calm, composed, confident man to someone who became pretty unsure of himself. I have always admired the ease with which he cheers everybody up around him. I am really happy he was around this time. Alright now, a man shouldn’t give more than 3 lines of praise to another man. It just gets too awkward.

Now that I am in the zone, I would like to get over with all the senti stuff quickly. Pushkar Sheth has been the creative mind behind a lot of things. I find it difficult seeing my book published on time without him being in the picture. I also hope after reading such praise about a fellow human being, one of you pretty girls will go over and approach him. He’s a nice guy, only too technical. Thanks Pushkar, I know you don’t read my blog coz you find the stories too senti, but one day your daughter will come on this blog and read good stuff about you, and she will think you are more than an android sent from the future :P

I also want to thank Sameer Thombare for doing what even professional designers find difficult to do. You did a better job than them, you did it faster than them. IIM B has waited too long for you :)

I thank Harsh Snehanshu(Oops I fell in Love) for patiently answering all my questions. I thank Sachinn Garg(The Sunny shady life), my senior at MDI, who constantly pushed me to work more on my novel. I hope you read the novel and like it. I also thank N Sampath Kumar (Love on the velocity express) for keeping up my spirits when I was down.

I wanna thank Purnima Gopalkrishnan. She did what girls like doing the most, which is, finding a man's mistakes. The time and energy she put in reading my manuscript and finding out 1027 errors is commendable. The quality of the novel really improved coz of her efforts. I can go praising her, but I don’t wanna spoil my chances with other girls. : )

I hope I cover everyone from my blog friends to the people I work with when finally I say – I thank my friends for being there.


The book comes out on July 10. That is my birthday. I am entering that phase of my life where one has to hide his age. So I will not be mentioning it here.

The book will be available for Rs.125. It was priced higher. I had to fight and fight with the Publishers to bring it down to Rs.125. The slightly higher pricing when compared to other publishers is acceptable because the binding and the print quality of Pustak Mahal is far too superior.

The novel will be available at all leading book stores all over India come July 10, 2010. It can also be bought online.


Novel:

How I got My Girl Back...!

A nerd’s guide to dating

Author:

Arshat Chaudhary

Publisher:

Pustak Mahal

Price:

Rs.125

Available at all leading bookstores from July 10, 2010


P.S.

1. Please do join the community of How I got My Girl Back...! on facebook : http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=125312997504438

2. Also there on orkut : http://www.orkut.com/Main#Community?cmm=102975754

3. If you wish to be updated about the book, please do follow me on twitter : http://twitter.com/arshatchaudhary

4. Dont know if you have noticed... This blog just reached 1,00,000 hits!!! (check out the number of copies sold on the column on the right)

To my readers - Thank you for everything!

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25 letters to the editor  


People have many fears. I have this friend who has never failed an exam and still fears that he will fail. One of my uncles fears losing money in the stock market. You know what my biggest fear is? -

I fear that nobody will want to hear what I have to say...




On a wintery morning in January of 2007, I wrote my first post. I didn't think of the future then. It was just something you do when you are fed up with life.

I was in my final year of engineering, and as it is famous for, Engineering did enough to make my life a boring routine - Lectures, Assignments, Practicals, more Assignments, Prep leave, Exams, more Exams, Results, Placements and more...

Life happens not in a planned way but on a wintery Tuesday morning... like it did to me...

It happened when I decided to start blogging. I never thought I was a good writer. All I knew that I could tell stories. I wrote my first post and hoped my friends will like it. Some of them did. They pushed me enough to write the second post, then the third... till I became addicted to writing...

I think a lot, and I continue thinking till I write my thoughts down. This very blog taught me that. I would write down my thoughts and that would clear my head for newer thoughts, saving me from the cycle of thoughts that I used to get caught up earlier.

Dont you think who will remember you when you go? When I go, will they rememebr who Arshat Chaudhary was? Was he a good guy? Was he funny? When I go...I will leave these stories behind... and hope that through my stories you read my soul...

It is difficult to write a blog. It is difficult to place yourself out there. You are potentially standing naked on a street. in fact, it's even worse, as on a street, no one knows what you are thinking...what your deepest fears are... Everyone who has been on this blog, knows me.. atleast a part of me...

What gave me the courage to a guy like me, shy and an introvert, to start writing, putting myself out there! Trust and Love!

I hope through my stories, I have made you smile, made you cry, made you think, asked you to fall in love... I hope I have fulfilled my purpose of starting this blog.

I look at the followers of this blog. I am humbled when I realize there are so many of you who have never met me, dont know what I look like, dont know what my religion is, or what is my political inclination, but still you love me enough to read what I have to say...

It's funny how a simple comment from someone whom I have never met made me feel so happy for days together... I hope my stories have had a similar effect on you.

I can't help it if I sound sentimental today... But today, something happened which I didnt think was possible...

I have always loved your comments, even when you didnt comment, I knew you had read the post, and I was in some way, able to touch your lives in some way... I felt happy that I could do that. All those words of appreciation some of you showered on me on my Orkut and facebook profiles and through email, though exciting, only ended up humbling me and pushing me to come up with better stories...

In most of my posts, I must come across as a guy who has this inherent urge to announce his supremacy by cracking stupid jokes about how awesome he is... But honestly, isnt that the trait of a person who wants to be accepted? Dont you think the guy who goes on saying that 'I am the best' is actually not too sure about it..?

All this while you have enjoyed my posts... I sincerely hope that you have... You have seen me grow... From a boy studying for his final year engineering to the man that I have become... I know, not much of a man... but play along, will ya? :)

I have shared so much of my life in the last 2 and a half years, I have to share THIS with you, this is what I did today...

I signed these papers. I am now an Author.



I owe this to each one of you.... each one of you who has come on my blog... liked my posts... or even disliked my posts... each one of you has influenced my life and writing in some way.

Today, to each one of you who has taken time out of their lives to hear what I had to say -

Thank you
Something that I have to share with my readers...SocialTwist Tell-a-Friend
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27 letters to the editor  

The butterfly story...

Short story

The African Luna Butterfly lives only for a day. In that day, she finds time to eat, sleep, drink and mate!



She says...
Medicine is a weird profession. People who aspire to become doctors should wear a chastity ring. It's only in Grey's Anatomy, I mean the series, not the book, where doctors keep hooking up with each other. In reality, doctor boys are really boring.

I know some girls find them hot, but they are boring for doctor girls. They are all the same - hardworking, intelligent and serious. That explains why doctor girls marry late.

In my case, that was a supplementary reason. In my case, most boys didnt like me. Maybe I was fat, or maybe I didnt wear fashionable clothes. Maybe I just wasnt attractive enough for boys. I thought I should study now, there will be plenty of time in the future.

The study time made me 28 years old. All my friends started getting married. The ones who werent married were either engaged or had a boyfriend. They went out on Saturday nights, while I did their emergency shifts. It was still better than sitting at home alone watching reruns of Friends and Seinfeld.

I was in the pediatrics department one such Saturday night. I was hungry so I went to the cafeteria. It was 2 in the night and the cafeteria didnt have a lot of people eating in there. I asked for Upma at the counter. The good thing about being a doctor is that you get immense respect. The lady at the counter was so sweet to me. The cafeteria is self-service usually but she served the upma at my table. I thanked her and inserted my fork inside the upma when I heard this guy call my name.

"Dr. Ragini?" I raised my head up. At the next table sat this guy. A doctor for sure. What department was he from! He didnt even have a name tag.

"Yes?" I said.
He got up from his table and came and sat at my table on a chair facing mine.

"It says 'self service' you know?" He said pointing at the 'self service' sign above the cafeteria counter.

"So?" I asked. Who was this guy? And why was it any of his business to point it out to me that I didnt follow the rules. Anyway, it was the cafeteria lady who came and served me. It was not my mistake.

"So? So nothing..." He got up from his seat.
I was confused and as a consequence angry.

"Wait... Who are you? What's your name? Where's your name tag?" I asked in a voice that is louder than permissible inside Hospital premises.

"I dont wear name tags. You souldnt be bound by names, no?"

Who was this crazy dude!
"Listen Doctor... I didnt break any rules alright.. It was the cafeteria lady..." I dont know why I felt answerable to him.

"Doctor Ragini, dont worry... Well, I need to run... I need to save lives," he said in a fake Superman pose.

"Wait! Which department are you in?" I asked, I dont know why.

"The surgery department. The 'real' doctors department. The kind who save lives." he said with arrogance.

"Well, I save lives too... I am in the Pediatrics department." He didnt even ask.

"Sure... you do... All of us do. But yeah, some of us are more important than some others," he said.

What a jerk! I thought

He went away and I spent the night thinking about him. Then I fell in love with him. Dont know how that happened... It just did... And luckily for me, he was head over heels in love with me too... It's a lovely feeling, isnt it?

We dated for a year. The best year of my life...

He proposed one day in front of the 'Gateway of India', one of the weirdest places to propose but flamboyant, just like everything else about him.

Then something happened which made me reconsider it.

Till today, I cant decide if I was right or wrong. If what I did was right or wrong. If I was too selfish. I was 29 years old. I wanted to get married. I had found a guy who loved me.

Akki, sweetheart, if you are reading this... I am sorry...

Love,
Ragini.



He says..
Being a Doctor sucks sometimes. It's not like they show on 'Scrubs'. You should watch it if you havent already, it's really funny.

Talking bout funny, I met this girl Dr.Ragini in the cafeteria. And I was such a jerk to her. I dont know why. But she seemed so nice, you had to mess with her.

She wasnt very good looking. She was what you would call plump and had a very simple way of dressing. But there was something very genuine about her. There was nothing bout her that was made-up.

I think I feel in love with her. I think you love someone based on not how they are but how they make you feel when you are with them. She made me feel good, funny and well uber cool!

Like the first time she asked me where my name tag was, I made this stuff up about how people shouldnt be made to wear a name tag. The truth was, I was new in the hospital and they hadnt given me a tag yet!

We dated for a year. The best year of my life...

When I proposed to her a year later, she said yes. There are very few words which can make you feel happier than a 'yes' from a girl you love.


We were supposed to get married in 3 months when she started to behave weird. She had been sick intermittently for sometime, but she assured me that it was nothing serious. I had known her to be increasingly honest, so I took her word.

I should have investigated more.

One month before our wedding day she asked me,
"Akshay? What if I die, say 6 months into our marriage?"

Women I tell you! Getting married is subscribing to a lifetime of silly questions.
I asked myself how would I feel if she really died in 6 months... It was a morbid thought, but for that moment I did think of it...
"Those will be the best 6 months of my life." I said. I meant every word.

We got married. Those were the best 6 months of my life.

She had thyroid cancer. It is hard to detect. Usually its a benign tumour and it is possible to cure it. But her tumour was malignant. She knew about it. She decided to spend her last days with me. She really loved me.

I read her letters she wrote for me in advance. Everytime I read those it feels she's just sitting next to me, saying those things- describing the way we met, the way I proposed, the wedding night...

Her not being here is nothing to be sad about.
She lived a butterfly's life.
People like to think she died early... I like to think she lived for a year...
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To the crazy and back!

When I was a kid, the only night I got to stay up till 12 in the night was the NEW year's eve. Then after I joined Engineering, usually I stayed out till 2 in the night. In MDI, the parties would go on till 4. But the ultimate were always the parties that you read about on Page 3 of News-dailies.

There's reason they call it the party capital of Europe. To know why - there's one thing that you should do if you come to Berlin - Partyyyyy...

Now its not the same party that most guys have on a Saturday night back home. These parties in Berlin are a trip to crazy and back. Some parties just leave you at crazy and forget to take you back - Beware of such parties. Such parties are suitable only for Michael Jackson (R.I.P mate) and his friends (the ones over 18 years of age).

So I went to this party or should I call them parties coz they are in plural, and it was like crazy. Now I dont want you to think that I havent been to/have been invited for any parties. As you might have guessed, I am like, super popular here in Berlin too... And everyone wants a piece of Arshat coolcucumber... Now being a nice guy, I do like to appease people and go to every party that get invited to, which is Every party btw.

But of course I have my own constraints... I am not a party machine now, am I? Wait... maybe I am!

So this pretty blonde girl asked me out... I kid-you-not, she really did...!! So maybe she called like a group of 8 people to go out, but my friends in India and my son are gonna hear a different story! :P
If I have learnt anything from German TV, it would be never to turn down a blondie.

Now my regular readers (all 3 of you) know that I am a quiet guys who usually keeps to himself unless he really likes you after which he showers you with a mix of funny anecdotes and knowledge tit-bits. If you have noticed that I am like that with you, go buy yourself a chocolate medal. Others, keep trying :P

So as a quiet guy, I never really attended many parties. My engineering background and my straight A's made sure I spent Saturday nights cuddling with my books. Okay, go ahead make fun of me... But now, I can talk bout cars till dawn and you can not! And some of that talk does turn on some hot girls in the class, so there! In your face!.... Okay, I am kidding. My little 3rd and 4th cousins read this blog and I would like to tell you guys, car talk aint hot... Cuddling with books takes you nowhere! Maybe it takes you to IIT or better SPCE, but we have a girl:boy ratio of 1:147, that's where you want to end up? haan? haan? :)

The night started with quiet drinks. And it ended with quiet drinks... But inbetween lay the crazy. I wont explain the crazy as a timeline... It just started randomly, like it used to happen in class back in the 6th grade when the teacher was not around. One notorious guy with the name Chetan or Karan used to throw a chalk at someone and then would start the chalk fight of the century. The fight would end with one of the chalk pieces hitting the teacher between the eyes.. wait.. does this story sound like David and Goliath to any of you?

The evening had started at around 8 and all of a sudden it was 3 in the night! The night had just begun... Imagine that! The night began at 3!

Now in Mumbai/Delhi, the pubs have a realistic feel to them. They spend money for it to look swanky and stuff. There is a huge dance floor depending on whether you are Delhi or Mumbai. Its smaller if you are in Mumbai, coz, well, lack of space. Btw, did you know that in 1997, Mumbai real estate was costlier than Manhattan?! without the PPP! So anyway, there is a DJ playing songs with the words - Mainu, tainu, Ahun Ahun, balle, shava if you are in a Delhi pub and English songs if you in Mumbai. The number of English songs played depends on how further south Mumbai are you ready to go! There are 3-4 big bouncers in pubs in Mumbai to control the crowds. In Delhi the number of bouncers and their body-size doubles to control drunk Sardarjis, most of whom are as big as the bouncers themselves.




The bar occupies double the area and have more people crowding it than Mumbai. The bartenders are themselves drunk and go like-
"Mainu nahi karna pyaar.. ahun ahun ahun" when asked for a drink...

The point is, it looks regular... In the pub we went to in Berlin, well, it was like the inside of a Submarine... It was all red and green and blue and bare brick walls. It has all these pipes running through the pub. And there was this huge pipe with sofas inside and stuff!! How cool...

Now there werent any Bouncers in this club or maybe they must have hid themselves after they saw me coming. I tell you, the tales of my bravery are spread far and wide. But the bartenders were scary. I am so used to ahun..ahun..ahun... when asked for a beer. And they werent drunk at all!
I went -"Ein Bier bitte?" (One beer please, I hope it means that)
"Diese? oder Diese?"(This or this one?)

She could make out there were two different types of beer in the fridge!! She wasnt drunk even by a bit! Disappointing I tell ya! :P

The songs played were without any lyrics - they went - dhumchuk dhumchuk twing twing twing... And people - i-kid-you-not - the people had the beat memorized!!!! So after dhumchuk dhumchuk, they went in chorus - twing twing twing... It was in one word - Awesome!

So I was just soaking in the twing twing twing in me and trying to synchronise my dance steps, giving the Germans the complex of their lifetimes, just then a girl comes to me and says -

"Hi! Are you from India?"
"What?" I shouted.
"You Indian?" she shouted. It was difficult to hear her over the dhumchuk dhumchuk
"Yes."
"Bharatnatyam a dance form in your country?"
"Yes, also Kathak is from India" I shouted proudly.
"Yeah. about that, go learn some.. you suck!"

So after getting my ego thrashed from a girl whose only sense of dancing was to sway her curls from left side to the right, I went and sat in one of those Submarine sofas. And there I saw a boy and girl... well... since my cousins are reading it - I saw a boy and a girl "make notes". Now its cool in Germany to "make notes" in the train, airport, taxi, Brandenburger Tor, but these two were making like notes real hard... Like they had an exam coming up. The girl was also reciting the notes they were making. I am no prude. Well I am a lil. I made sure I made the notes makers a little conscious. hehe. What? Daddy's gotta have some fun too!

I hid behind the bar to see if the curly haired girl who had crushed my dancing ego had left. She was there dancing, thankfully here hair covered her face and eyes and she couldnt see me dancing in the corner. I was doing the best moves Berlin had seen since the last time Michael Jackson was here and I was giving them what they wanted. Obviously, the pretty blonde girl I had come there noticed me and invited me to dance with her.

Now I was dancing my heart out when I froze. My lower jaw fell down, forming a huge gap, formerly known as the pie-hole. The girl stopped dancing and shouted-
"Isnt dancing your thing?"
Of course dancing is my thing! I just showed Berlin the dance moves!

I came back and sat on a bench made of pipes and bricks. I now disclose, for the first time on this blog, what I actually saw that made me stop in between my jig -

I saw.. ahem... two girls "make notes" Oh yeah... I saw what most of Mechanical Engineers with, usually just 1 girl in their class dream of! Everytime there are two girls - standing, talking or the best - fighting, they think something will happen that would make them start taking notes! But it never does happen!!

Today, I became the first in my class of SPCE Mechanical Engineering, class of 2007, to witness it. If any of you have already done it, I have a blog and i have written it down... So I am officially the first, suck it up!

So anyway, after having so much of crazy, I hate to admit, I was tired. And I was the only one of my group who was tired. For the rest, the party had just started! They did some pub hopping, which essentially means, go from one pub to another till all the pubs in the city close down post noon.

I came out of the dark interiors of the pub into the soft light of the morning Sun. The slight chill of the German Summer was in the air. We sat in the taxi and they dropped me at the station. I got into the train. Swaying slightly as the train rocked the rails. It was 7 in the morning. I had partied for the last 11 hours!

I remembered the Page 3 headlines announcing that the party went on till the wee hours of the morning. Wee hours meaning 5 am. Here I was, wondering about how MDI parties lasted till 4 in morning and that seemed a big deal. I remembered how as a kid, staying awake till 12 at New years eve seemed like a big deal. And now, here I was wide awake at 7 am, with a night of dhumchuk dhumchuk, making notes and pub hopping behind me. I looked out of the window to see my station approach. I got out of the train, did a little jig and twing twing twing.....


To the crazy and back!SocialTwist Tell-a-Friend
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Rules and Long Legs...

So here I am with the new Awesome blog look. Took some time setting the whole thing up.. But worked out great for me. If any of you guys think they can make it better, do mail me, and I ll send you my code of the website, you could spice it up and I ll put up your name in Golden letters. (I will used chrome yellow to give it a golden feel). Obviously, I wont pay any money. My love and affection is the award. I have 90,000+ hits on my blog. Let me act a lil pricey, will ya?

I started blogging on a winter day on Jan 19 2007. Or was it Jan 17 2007? It doesnt really matter much.. If you parents came and told you that you were born 3 days before the date you thought you were, would it matter? Birthdays, CGPAs, salaries, no. of girl who find you hot, is just a number... You should never let it go to your head. This is the kinda speech I would give to my son if I forgot his bday. Yeah, got it all figured out.

That reminds me, I love kids. Especially the blonde ones. Blonde babies are the super subset of cuteness. They are so blonde.. and so pink! Sometimes I am hungry, and I see a blonde baby, I want to eat it up.. they are that cute! (and tasty!)



Talking about about blondies, I know how you horny bastards have arrived on this blog. You searched for hot blondes and google directed you to this blog. Guess what? There are no pictures of hot blondies here... Well, just so that you dont feel cheated I ll throw in one.. But just one! This one-


Coming back tot he super interesting topic of blondies, well, I went to this place in Berlin called Brandenburger Tor. I would have posted the pic, but its essentially a gate, and I know that most of you dont want to look at a huge gate after looking at the blondie pic. Most of you have stopped reading already.

So this place, its surrounded by a sea of Blonde German girls. Now I have seen French girls, and I am not arguing about their beauty. They are amongst the prettiest women in the world. But German girls are real pretty too. Different from French girls. But pretty. I dont know how to describe their prettiness without being vulgar.

So anyway, I am surrounded by a sea of pretty girls, but it gets better. (Special request to my engineering friends : Dont execute your fantasies, nothing of that sort happened). You see, Germany is cold. Winter lasts for like 6 months here. So every time the Sun shines, people storm out like Indians do on the 26 Jan sale at Big Bazar. And the girls see the Sun as a special invite to show their legs.

So there are legs all around me. Amongst the best legs I have seen ever.

A note to the girls who read my blog (all three of you), you wont really understand what a guy's fixation with legs is. It's difficult to explain. But to give you an idea what good legs look like, following are a few pointers
  • They should be sleek
  • They should be slender
  • Ahem... if I go ahead with more bullet points, I might get an R rating. So I ll stop at that.

The point is, they were pretty girls with short clothes and long legs. Now even in Mumbai, when you see a pretty girl with like nice legs, you are bound to give her a customary glance.

A glance has to be limited between 3 sec (for it to be a legally valid glance) to 7 secs (for it not to label you as a bloody tharki by your friends.)

Its easy to give a glance in Mumbai, there arent that many girls who wear short skirts all at the same time. You see, unlike Germany, Sun makes more appearances than Paris Hilton's naked videos do. So in Mumbai, out on the streets, if there is a group of girls going out for a party or dinner or something, there's only one girl who wears a short skirt. It's like a pact between Indian women. Only one of them can look superhot on a particular day. They have divided days according to it - Wednesdays for Preeti, Thursdays for Ragini, Fridays for Priya.. you get the drift... Btw, the names are random, I dont know any girls by these names. The order of hot looking days is also random. Or is it? ;)

So, in Mumbai, you give a customary glance to a girl's legs. I dont think there are any thoughts going on in the guys mind. It's just a way of appreciating something that's a gift from God or Talwalkar's gym. I bet even Abhishek Bacchan, married to one of the world' s most beautiful women, still glances at let's say, Rimi Sen. (did I just break AB's marriage?)

So the thing is, while you can glance legally in Mumbai, you cant do the same in Germany because of the unlimited resources! They are all around. You spend around 5 minutes checking out, trying to decide on which pair deserves a glance. You see, all of them deserve more than a glance, but now that you have choice, very much like in capitalist countries, you are confused.

So I spent 5 mins, still confused on where I should stop and give that much deserved glance.

I sat on a bench to contemplate, like they do in the movies. In that sea of pretty women legs walking from in and out the Brandenburger Gate, I could think of only one pair. The worst part is, she wasnt even here. The best pair of legs belonged to a girl who I had left back home. And even when presented with so many choices, I couldnt think of anyone else but her.

This phenomena, while pretty confusing for the guy who experiences it, causes awe to the readers. Most of them are already posting this on the Infy BB, while others are forwarding it to their friends, girlfriends, some are also forwarding it to their boyfriends, to show that they have been such dumbasses while I take the award for the coolest guy in the universe. Just a couple of pointers ladies, one-yes, I am supercool and stuff... and two-when you mail this post to your boyfriend, do remember to remove the blondie pic from the post.

About the confusion bit, I have always followed the 'Hardwire' rule which was discovered by Arshat Chaudhary in the lazy summer holidays of 2006.

Just to enlighten you mortals, the hardwire rules goes as follows:
Hardwire rule: Men are hardwired to have more of their kind. Everything right and wrong in this world is because of this rule.

There! Simplified funda of life. You are welcome.
But you should be in control enough not to gawk at a female in presence of another girl.

If a man can glance at a girl when talking with another girl, he isnt giving the attention they deserve to either of the two girls...
-Arshat Chaudhary (May 2010)

So I followed the hardwired rule. But the rules get damned sometimes, dont they? Sometimes, you the jump the Queue when you shouldnt... Sometimes you travel without a ticket, when you thought you never should.... Sometimes the self-imposed rules go for a walk. It might seem like we break those rules for no reason, but there's always a sub-conscious reason... Maybe you travelled ticketless coz you were late for a football match on a lovely rainy day and you didnt wanna waste 3 mins printing a ticket. Maybe you jumped the queue, coz you lost that match and wanted to divert your mind from the loss...

I am just saying, there's always a reason for the way we behave in. Sometimes you are just lucky to know what those reasons are. Some other times, you sit confused on a bench, in a foreign country, staring blankly at a humongous gate....


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Nice girls like you...






It rains in Bombay like for 3 months on a trot,
1 hour of a break from the office is all you got,
It's raining, our umbrellas we forgot, I place over your shoulder my coat,
I see your uncomfort, your feminist movement...
No you are not weak, but you definitely transparent...
You could have returned me the coat, but you wouldnt...
Nice girls like you shouldnt...



And then maybe in a crowded place,
With a slow and an inconspicuous pace,
I put my hand across your waist,
You pull my hand off...
Exert a small, cute suggestive cough...
You could let my hands on, but you wouldnt...
Nice girls like you shouldnt....



It's your first payday, you ask me out,
I have done that so many times, but you doubt,
You are so nervous, you talk gibberish throughout,
We have a quite dinner, call for the cheque...
You take out the money place it in my hand and a peck...
You could have paid it yourself, but you wouldnt...
Nice girls like you shouldnt...



It's new years, I order a beer,
You roll your eyes mockingly, come on it's end of the year,
I wont get high, dont you fear,
You throw me off balance, u want a taste...
I push the glass in front of you, man I'm amazed...
You could take a sip, but you wouldnt...
Nice girls like you shouldnt....



You are sad and I am like a million miles away,
We thought was going to be easy, but its not okay,
A tear drops a light year away in Bombay,
Its my mistake but you say sorry...
Cajoling fake male glory...
You could have not understood me, but you wouldnt...
Nice girls like you shouldnt....



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Ich liebe Berlin...

I remember that sunny afternoon. He was in the 9th grade, reading his Science-II State board textbook. For the younger ones who are reading this post, we didnt have Physics, Chemistry and Biology separate those days. 'Those days', this sure sounds old!

So, on this sunny morning, there was this intelligent guy (with a thirst for knowledge) going through the periodic table... He was good. And he knew it. As he was going through the periodic table, something caught his eye.

Tungsten was represented with the letter 'W'. W? not T, not Tg, but W. Why? He got to the root of it...

Today, the same uber cool guy, today in an unknown land, on a very sleepy afternoon, was asked the same question

German Sir: I dont know the name of that metal... its called Wolfram in German...

Out of deep slumber woke our hero, our uber cool guy (UCG)...
UCG: Its Tungsten...
Sir: Tung.. what?
UCG: Tungsten...
Sir: How... what.. How do you know that? (true exclamation)
UCG: I dont know... I am just plain awesome...

Girls admired him with loving affection... Guys wanted to be like him...Yes, that plain awesome guy, that uber cool guy... is me... (obviously)

So now that I have established my utter supremacy over you mere mortals, let me continue with all the mundane stuff...

So, Its pretty awesome here in Berlin... The city is super systematic... Its kinda cold here, I expected better weather this time of the year... Everything is mostly on time. Even the buses have a time table to follow.

There are no traffic jams here. And potholes on the road are a matter of National crisis for the Germans.

Germany is great, no two ways about it... The roads, the cars, trains, buses (all in all the transport system) are awesome. Everything here is so damn systematic... I think thats all we Indians lack are systems. Ever since I have come here, I have never felt that something that can be done here, cant be done back home. Our people are good.. all we need are good systems to be put in place...

I have started liking Berlin's weather, which is quite different from the one at home. I have started making friends. Not just in class but also outside. Like the Falafel guy... (falafel is like a veg sandwich). This guy speaks only German, and I speak Chinese according to my Orkut profile.

But this guy is really nice, hes teaching me what to call vegetables in German. And the quick learner that I am, I am quite a joy to have as a student. But seriously, I am his most loyal customer, I eat 2 of my 3 meals in there. Sasta hai yaar...

Everything is so damn costly. Water is sometimes costlier than beer. (Believe it, its not a fable.) You dont get carry bags for free. Train and Bus tickets cost a bomb compared to Indian standards... So what if the doors of the train open and close automatically and the bus BENDS towards the footpath so that you can get down easily.. Yes.. it bends!!! like Sachin bends into his on-drive...

And yes, for all you German car fans at home, there are more BMWs here than we have marutis.. Buying a Chevy Matiz (Spark) must be a sign that you are really poor...

Till last week I was converting everything into rupees, so it sucked big time when you had to pay 80 rupees for a bottle of water.. Talking bout water, there is no system of water purifiers here. All water that comes through any tap is pure... My doctor mom is gonna be angry big time if she gets to know that I am drinking what is fondly called as "unfiltered" water in India.

I like my classmates. They come from like 20 nationalities. Most of them are pretty curious about India. There is this one guy who sings sanskrit mantras and stuff... Freaks me out I tell you.. sometimes I feel he knows more about my country than I do...

Then there guys who come to me and ask...
Curious foreign guy: Hey Aaarrrshat, how do you say 'Fuck' in Indian...
Uber cool Indian guy (me) : There is no language called - Indian...

The nice guy that I am, I almost always enlighten them... its fun I tell ya..

The best part is our calculation abilities... We solve calculations before you can say - Ich liebe Berlin...
There was this question, very simple question, and the professor was like, Have you brought your calculators, and I solved it in like 3 seconds... Between surprised chuckles and awe and respect, yours truly was surrounded...

Okay, now that I have made myself sound good (which is the whole point of this post and in greater sense, this blog) let me talk some (more) meaningful talks..


Germany and cool and everything, but the thought of staying here somehow doesnt come into my mind. Sometimes I dream about India, mostly about Mumbai, the warm humid weather, my friends and family, sometimes even Gurgaon and the college. I feel like I have left some part of me behind. Somehow, 100% Arshat isnt here.

They say - Home is where the Heart is...
They god damn right...

I wanna stay in Mumbai for most of my life... I have decided that... Cant stay anywhere but there. There is something bout the city I will never understand. You see it in the movies, you read about it, but you dont really know what is about that place that doesnt let you leave ever.

Or maybe everyone feels like that about their homeland. Maybe all of them leave behind a certain part of themselves which is so important that you always wanna come back to it... Ich liebe Berlin... But home is where the heart is...

Chalo, bahut senti maar liya... happens when you miss home...
Miss all you people back home (you know who you are)...
Will come back soon.. Till then..
Auf Weidersehen...

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My name is Chaudhary...

"So hows the German dream coming along?" One of my friends asked...

It was difficult to answer her. How was it coming along?

It all started with an ad which I saw when I was in the 7th standard.
The difference is- German Engineering. Opel.

Opel didnt work. But the ad did. That line somewhere stayed in my mind. The respect for Germany grew as I came to know more about them. The Engineering dream realised and I set my heart on doing my masters in Mechanical Engineering in Germany.

I got disillusioned during my engineering. 4 hours of travelling, overload of assignments, stupidity all over didnt help my case. The German dream died and I set my eyes on an MBA. In between happened Siemens, the respect for Germany increased and the dream was reborn.

I left Siemens, prepared for CAT to get into MDI's International Management course. One leg of the course was to be completed in ESCP, Berlin. The German dream kept coming back to me. It was destined or something.

This monday, I landed in Germany. It was not easy. Not at all. First the German Embassy acted like they didnt want us to come here. Then Deutsche Bank did their best to keep us out. German efficiency was thrown out of the window for inefficiency and stupidity. It was our luck that we finally got our Visas one day before leaving.

What followed next was a journey of a life time. I took the Air India flight from Mumbai to Frankfurt in the night at 2. I was so damn tired with all the running around, meeting friends and stuff. The flight was overbooked and I probably got the worst seats. Couldnt sleep a wink on the flight. I had an Air Berlin flight from Frankfurt to Berlin in the evening. That gave me around 12 hours to go around Frankfurt.


I landed at Fraport, was overwhelmed by the size of the airport. It was freaking cold outside. If Delhi cold was a bitch, Frankfurt cold was son of a bitch (does that make it worse or not?). Fraport is lovely, though I still feel mumbai airport is not too behind when it comes to management. (You can take me out of Mumbai, but u cant take Mumbai outta me.)

I had like 4 bags, one out of which was cabin baggage. I wanted to go around Frankfurt, so I deposited the bags at the Air Berlin counter for my flight in the evening. I had more baggage than the alloted 20 kgs. The girl at the counter (who I thought was spanish) however turned in 4 kgs more than alloted, which I thought was kinda sweet. I thanked her profusely, to which she said - You are Indian, I am Indian...
I felt so damn proud. No one every did anything special for me just coz I was Indian.

I went around the city. German Engineering everywhere. Footpaths which sloped at the edges so that you might not have a problem to get down and cross the road. Zebra crossings everywhere. Cars stopping for you even if there was no red signal. Grey skies. Biting cold. Costly food. But that didnt stop me from going on a 50 min cruise on the river Main.

In the evening I returned back to the airport or Fraport as they call it. I waited for the evening flight. After running around the Airport, I realised that the flight had been delayed. I waited. The flight was cancelled. I was stranded on the Airport. I contacted Air Berlin. German rules suggest that you stand in the line and wait for your turn, which incidentally took me around 1 hour. It was 9 in the night local time (1.30 night India) It was 40 hours since I had slept. Standing in line sucked.

"We will arrange your stay in a hotel and also arrange for pick up and drop" said the lady at the task.
They arranged for the hotel, but forgot the pick-up. Good for me though, I got to take a taxi (which means my dream of travelling my a Merc was fulfilled.) I was amazed to see my Hotel room (an Executive room at The Kongress Sheraton). One word - Awesome! I slept for 5 hours. The next flight was in the morning.


At the airport, I confirmed if my baggage was on the flight (since the last flight was cancelled.)
On reaching the Berlin airport after a rough flight which was more like a roller coaster than anything else, I found that one of my bags was missing. In spite of my confirming at Fraport that they were loaded on the very same flight that I was travelling by... How do you misplace baggage ON the Way? All my clothes were in that bag, and I was already late for the first class. Which meant I was gonna skip class. Not much of a problem that. With the jet lag, I might have slept in the class anyway.

It was damn difficult to find the place where the hostel was. It was 4 degrees outside, and if you know me, I hate cold. I come from a land of Warm sunny beaches, anything colder than 16 degrees is clearly unacceptable. This is one of the reasons Delhi is no longer a contender for me working there.

I reached the hostel with great difficulty and finally dropped dead on the bed. I dreamt.

I had a dream, the German dream... It took long to realize it. It was difficult. What a journey! I didnt wanna meet the President of the US or stuff like SRK wanted in "My name is Khan", but this journey was pretty difficult too.

For the record: My name is Chaudhary...

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Plan and effect!

I am sitting here at the Delhi Airport, waiting for the next flight for Mumbai... I cant help but replay the 8 months that I have spent in MDI.

My work there is done. I have the MDI degree. Quite frankly, I didnt think I would be able to. I would be lying if I say that I didnt think about running off from Delhi into the cosy, humid confines of Mumbai everytime MDI pushed me into a corner and boxed the daylights out of me. It is BY FAR the TOUGHEST MBA course in the country. We read these posts about IIM guys trying to justify how tough their life is, and end up laughing... If this course had gone for another 8 months, (along with some basic physical training) we would have been ready to take down the entire Al Quaeda Army or something.

I remember what all I had planned before I cam here. Some plans:

-Will watch one movie everyday.
-Will watch lots of sitcoms
-Will learn to play tennis
-Will go running around the campus every morning (I later changed it to evening, who ll get up in the morning yaar?)
-Will try to learn, rather than score marks
-Will get to know more about the culture of Delhi
-Will learn more about people in Delhi
-Will be a better friend
-Will be the coolest guy I know (I have always been that)
-Will try out new things
-Will try local cuisine

Now lets see if the plans materialized or not. Some effects:
-Watch one movie everyday??! I would consider myself lucky if I could see one in a week. The schedule is killing. Sleep doesnt come easy even to someone like me who values it a lot!
-Well, I did manage to watch a few seasons of a couple of sitcoms.
Fell in love with 'That 70s show' and 'Seinfeld'. Saw a bit of Scrubs too.
- Learn to play tennis? Just got enough time for a game. Nailed a German friend of mine in that game. Okay, thats a lie. I am awesome, but not Rajnikanth.
-Hmm.. I did run around the campus, but to submit reports, assignments etc.
-I did a better job of learning than what I did in engineering. Infact, I am kinda proud of myself :)
-Got to know the culture of Delhi... loved it..
-Got to know the people, loved them even more.
-I think this time I was better friend than what I normally have. I will leave this one for the friends at MDI.
-I AM the coolest guy I know, so no surprises there.
-Tried out a lot of new things... lots..
-fell in love with the local cusine - rajma chawal, kadhi chawal, paneer kulcha, tandoori parathe, steamed sweet potates, veg momos, wai-wai, chole bature etc etc

So, some of my plans have been realized, others not. The ones requiring time, have been difficult to realize.

What is the point of this post? Abbe? Har time story hi chahiye kya? Sometimes hamari bhi sun liya karo!

Anyway, time for my flight.

Take care. Have fun.
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Captcha

Had to finally turn on the captcha settings on blogger...
There were way too many spam comments coming.. Which means I am damn popular... Not that you didnt know about it already...
So now that I have blown my own trumpet and played a jingle on the banjo... I need to work on this Branding project..
Just want you guys to know that commenting on this blog will require you guys to fill a captcha from now on... I am so sure comments on this blog are gonna reduce.. esp Hiren's and Aroop's comments... Lazyasses, I tell u..
Enjoy...
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Marigold : A short story

Firstly, sorry for my absence from the blogworld. It has been a hectic time for me. Sleep deprivation has been rampant. In this cold, going to take a bath has been like going to war. Times flies here, yet, at the end of the day if you ask me - aaj kya kiya? I would be at loss of words. These are my last days at MDI, before I leave for Germany so I want to enjoy these days fully. Will let you know more about these adventures.
Anyway, my friends have been wanting me to write a romantic story, so here goes. For all you people out there...

Note: I am deviating from the usual love stories and entering into a much serious domain. Hope I do justice to the story.

Short Story


It was quite a time to be born... India was being born, breaking the shackles of 150 years of British rule.

The year was 1945. I used to stay in Multan with my parents. I was 20 years old then, studying in the local Arts college. I was majoring in English. My father was of the opinion that the British are successful because they know English. My father was a zamindar, which is an euphemism for calling him a British puppet who took money from poor Indians and forwarded it to the Government, the English government that is, in the process getting a hefty commission...My grandfather gave up zamindari when he saw how exploitative the practice was.

I never wanted to study B.A. , in fact I didnt want to study at all... I wanted to be a painter.

The reason why I stayed in college was because of Tasleen. Tasleen was this girl who lived in the house next to my house. We didnt have a flat system then, every family owned a house, one with a courtyard, backyard and a terrace... Her terrace had a small garden in which grew lovely Marigolds.

In the winters, it would get very cold. In Delhi, winter is a lot less harsh compared to Multan. In the mornings, I would study on the terrace to soak in the sunlight... She would come on her terrace with a pitcher of water to water the plants.

Her beauty was unparalleled. I had never seen anything as beautiful as her... Her long hair, her slender frame, the way she gracefully bent to water the plants... Only the marigolds in her Garden could try to match her beauty... but would still fail...

I would hide behind the book I was reading/pretending to read and would catch a glimpse or two. Those days we could not leer at girls (though we wanted to). It was considered impolite.

She would never even look at me. She was 2 years younger to me, I had been to a boys school next to her school, I was now her senior in college, I had been her neighbour since ages now, but I had never got an opportunity to talk to her. Whenever I had to go to her house to get some curd or sugar, her mother would open the door and usher me into the house. She would treat me to samosas and jalebis but there would be no sign of Tasleen. Come to think of it, Tasleen's mother was beautiful too. You could see where Tasleen got her looks from...
And now here we were, just 50 meters away from each other, separated only by a terrace wall and she wouldn't even acknowledge my presence.

Those days these local goons would wait outside the college gates to tease girls. Most of us, that included me, were scared of them. One day, she was walking back home from college. She was probably the prettiest girl in college and quite naturally a target for the thugs to tease. I was walking behind her at a distance. At first, the teasing was only verbal. Then one of the guys touched her dupatta. I was furious. I ran towards her and held her hand and stood as a shield in front of her. I told them that the girl was my neighbor's daughter and it was my duty to escort her to her house. My voice was shaky, trembling... but the words and my intent were clear. They let us go.

All the time that we were walking, her eyes were transfixed on the ground. Mine were transfixed on her. I was walking withing three feet of Tasleen. It was a dream come true. She left without without even saying a thank you. Come to think of it, why should she, she was doing me a favour walking with me...

I kept thinking about her all day. Books, studies, groceries, bicycles... they all seemed so unimportant right now.. I went to the terrace to clear my thoughts and there she was, drying her long hair. There is something lovely about a girl's wet hair... I kept staring at her... She looked at me... and smiled...

I graduated in the summer of 1946. My father got me a job in a college in Amritsar. I didnt want to go. But his decision was final. At least that is what I had been told ever since I was a kid. Though he always wanted the best for me, then, I couldnt help think that he was any different from those thugs outside college who impose their will.

That hot afternoon, when everyone was asleep, she came to the door of my house and said,
"Are you going to leave for Amritsar?"
That was the first full sentence I had heard from her mouth. I kept looking at her.
"Are you?" She asked again.
"Yes." I answered.
"Don't."
I kept quiet. I didnt know what to say.
"Please don't leave." She said.
She had tears in her eyes. She didnt get an answer.



It was 45 degrees outside. I kept my suitcase on the cycle rickshaw. I was supposed to catch the train at the station to Amritsar. I looked at her terrace, she wasnt there... The cyclewala started to pedal the rickety rickshaw... I looked behind at her door, for the last time... The rickshaw set into motion.. Her door opened... She walked out.. barefoot, in that scorching heat... She kept looking at me, like she would never see me again...

It turned out to be true... I never did see her again.

Her family left Multan, which became a part of Pakistan after the partition of 1947. Someone told me that they sold off the house in Multan. Where did they go, nobody knew.

I knew, if I found marigolds in a garden, trying to be more beautiful than they actually are, as if competing with someone, that would be her garden...

That story...

In 1994, my Grandson, Surabh, completed his M.S. from the US. He found the love of his life there. They wanted to get married...

While raising up my son, I had been very liberal. I tried hard to be not like my father. My son became a scientist. He now heads the ISDRO for the Government of India. I think he got Sheila's brains.

I got married to Sheila in 1950. I searched for Tasleen in Delhi, Amritsar and Chandigarh for 3 years. Eventually I had to concede to the demands of my mother. She wanted me to get married.

Sheila was lovely. She was intelligent, elegant and kind. She was everything that a man would want in a woman. I lost her 5 years ago. A huge void was left in my heart.

I still couldnt help feeling that I had wronged Tasleen. Her "Please don't leave." would echo in my head. Maybe I didnt search for her right, or maybe I didnt give it enough time. I should have had searched more...

When Surabh came back from the US, I could see he was lovestruck.
"You really love her, huh?" I asked.
The frank and friendly relationship that I shared with him allowed me to be that intrusive.
"Yeah baba. I really do." He said.
"So wont you show your baba her photo?" I said jokingly.
But I forgot he was my grandson and equally jocular.

He pulled out an old photo of a small girl of 3 or 4 years old out of his wallet.
"See, this is my girl, her name is Pritha" he said pointing to her.
I removed my spects from my shirt pocket to see.
"And this, is her grandma." He pointed to a old lady who was playing with the girl in the photo.

I looked closely at the woman in the photo...

"Could I meet Pritha?"
"Ofcourse, we are going there on Sunday. Mom and Dad want to meet her too..."

On Sunday, I dressed in my best suit. Carried my best cane. The woman in the photo was none other than Tasleen. I couldnt believe I had finally found her.. and how! My grandson fell in love with her granddaughter! And that too half a world away...

I bet her grand daughter was as pretty as her. No wonder Surabh fell for her.

Our car parked outside their bungalow. We walked through the garden. The garden had the loveliest marigolds I had seen in a long long time. I knew they were competing. And this house had two pretty women they had to compete with...

We entered the living room. Surabh helped me sit on the sofa. I was excited for a 70 year old and I guess, it showed.

I waited for Tasleen to come out. Would she be happy to see me after so many years? What will I say to her?

A photo on the wall caught my eye. It was Tasleen's photo...she looked so beautiful... the photo had a garland of Marigolds around it.

I had found her... I had lost her... A tear rolled down my cheek...

That story...

Dedicated to Sulabh Kakkar, a friend, whose Grandfather had to leave their hometown in Multan in the partition of 1947.


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