The common aspect.

A quiet regular day for me. After 6 hours of class and 2 hours of being with A i was ready to go home and crash! It was a saturday, i wanted to write this that day itself but sleep and fatigue took over me.
Yes, it is one more of my train journeys/stories/experiences.

I took the train from Bandra to go home to King Circle station. The distance is of just 6 minutes. The compartment was not populated with many people, say about a 20. I took my place near the aisle. The wind was blowing well, i was tired and wanted to just fall asleep. But certain noises would not let me stick to my thoughts, let alone getting to close my eyes. Straightening my head, I looked around myself. I saw nothing but the common aspect.

To my left corner, near the window, a woman clad in a black burkha from head toe was with 2 children. One of the was a petite girl, no older than 5 or 6 years. Dressed in a pink synthetic salwar kameez that had yellow sun flowers printed, all the way to the hem. The hem line was frayed, i noticed. She wore or was made to wear Kaajal. Her big black eyes and the anxiety in them became only more evident. She gazed out of the window and at her restless mother who had a little boy of a few months in her lap. The little boy clad in blue shorts and blue T-shirt looked like he wanted to jump out of his mothers firm grip. Fruitless feeding efforts of the mother only made her more restless. The child started wailing and she tried to pacify him with a plastic duck toy. He smiled and snatched it from his mothers hands and started shaking the duck vigorously. She then patted him to sleep. His eyes shut peacefully in the comfort of his mothers lap.

To my right, was a round woman of unusual proportions, very fair, think big glasses and the frames reminded me of my grand father. She had long hair oiled together in a plait. Her brown bag was held tightly against her stomach as if she was guarding Obama's POA (plan of action). From time to time different items came out of the bag. First came out the comb which was forced on her little rebellious son's head, who asked for a sweet but got his hair neatly combed which was already thickly oiled. He tired to push his mother but obviously he was not successful. He rose and sat on the opposite seat. He looked quiet cute in lack full pants and a red shirt with black buttons on it. For the last time he asked for a sweet in a very rude manner and his mother pretended not to listen. Both decided to ignore each other through music. Mother removed her cell phone from her bag and put on the head set, her son turned his nose up like his mother and followed suit. After about a minute he jumped up from his seat and hugged his mother and said sorry. The woman smiled so wide, confirming my doubts about her golden teeth. She gave the boy a big bar of chocolate.

On the seat next to mine was a very thin woman, close to being malnourished. She had 2 children, one of 2 years and the other a female child of barely 2 months or so. The effect of child birth clearly reflected on her body. Her face said different things. The bundle of joy in her arms made her smile despite the ache in her eyes. She tried to give everything that remained of her body to the child and she took it gladly. Her other child, a boy was dressed in shabby clothes, blue shorts with brows stains and a white shirt with red stains, probably his school uniform. The woman was patient and tired. She sat back and gazed in one direction as her child was struggling in her arms. The pain seemed quiet obvious in her eyes. She gave all that she had.

Near the door, a mother-in-law, a mother and two little girls remained huddled, enjoying the breeze and spitting the paan. While waiting near the door, i noticed none of them had footwear and had probably not washed their feet in days. Both the girls wore identical dirty frocks with the laces almost coming off. They were playing with each other and were listening to the 2 women bickering. One of the girls looked up at me and with a mischievous smile seemed to tell something to her twin. The dirt in their hands did not stop them from eating the food their mother offered them. They seemed so happy just at the sight of it. The mother removed 2 packets and gave one each to her girls and one more to her shark-in-law. After which she folded the empty bag and gazed out quietly.

I got off thinking about the Very common Aspect.

Free Alcohol

Been a long time since I actually wrote something in ENGLISH. Yes, I have been writing a lot these days, really, like on awesome condos in random places, on tips for thesis writing, VIOLENCE in Indian schools (in French), on Marine Drive (again in French). Now it is time that my creativity comes out, not in the forced way! I had been planning this for long, the title is in my head since a week, pushing like a baby to come out.

The glass is always half empty. The forth has formed on the golden liquid in a tall plastic glass, Budweiser, her favorite. Her eyes, light brown, beautiful, black and well managed eye lashes that have traces of silver eye shadow fallen from her eye lids. Yes her makeup was of cheap quality and does not stay for long, just like her boyfriends. Last night it was Luke, tall, curly hair, beer belly and French beard. Last night, spread out on her bed, she thought she would get crushed. Obviously not. Again she finds herself on the same roof top with blinding lights that has nothing but a huge bar and a couple of people like her. Her ink black shoes with pointed heels remind her of something. It reminds her of the cat living outside her cheap and distasteful apartment. The cat is blind.

Her curly hair, unwashed from previous night still has the moose that is helping them stick together. Streaks of her golden brown hair fly towards her nose and she gets a whiff of smoke, probably last night’s smoke. Looking down at herself she finds tight pants fitting, almost suffocating her flabby thighs. Below the front pocket is a dirty patch of fondue which reminds her of the last time food touched her mouth. She knows that this is the only clothing left. The ugly men around the bar only bought her beer and no bread which she longed for more than the sex. Closing her eyes she transports herself to a different time, a different world.

The wrought iron gate shining because of the strong sunlight. At the foot of the gate a lot of fresh green grass has grown. It is Spring. The pink lace of her frock is so long that it flies towards her face and she cannot get rid of it because her daddy is tickling her. Her golden hair freshly washed and plaited by her mummy appeals to her daddy. He tickles her till tears appear in her eyes. He puts her down and tells his little princess that she looks like a queen in the blue frock that has long pink ribbons and her matching white shoes with red laces that have white polka dots on the hem. She runs in the house, and gets a whiff of the yummy swiss fondue her mummy is making. Her daddy is unable to catch her as the corridor is too big in their mansion.

Zapped back in to reality she opens her watery eyes and drinks up her free Alcohol to the last drop. She gets up a little unstable, her bright pink blouse almost falling as the buttons come undone, partly because her belly is growing and partly because the blouse is worn out. She believes its both. Looking around she sees drunken men with women like her, thinking of swiss fondues, lacey frocks, huge mansions, mummies and daddies like her. She walks a little towards a bearded man with long hair to be like the other women thinking like her.

Resolutions really??

His legs were very thin. He has to be old. Early sixties. He was short of 2 limbs. When I looked in his eyes, i saw nothing but tired green lines that begged him to shut his eyes for sometime and rest. But his stomach would not let him do that. He had to keep his eyes open and alert and use his 2 useless bottom limbs to drag himself around the compartment and yell his guts out to anyone who would listen or anyone who was interested in purchasing what he had to offer. The weary look and helplessness on his face reminded me that for him nothing changes. His 2 helpless limbs are the same, restricting his remaining body to stand up. Be it which ever day, date, month or year he is compelled to drag himself and keep his eyes open to earn the days nutrition.

For him that tiny bag around his waist is everything. His entire world. He keeps his life in it. Tightly bound to his hand so that no one can take the only thing he has, his life. For him his life is stagnant, only dragging may be but not really moving.

Here is an end to one more glorious or not so glorious year, whichever suits you. Every year on 31st of December we think, ''hold on. what are my resolutions for the year? Or do I even want to have any?''
Some of you might decide to eat less to lose weight or you might decided to visit the gym regularly, some of you might decide to study more, some of you might decide to do something constructive in the coming year and several other things.

Why should this year be any different? From all the other years? Its the same partying, cribbing about the previous year, wishing the next year will bring more success, marks, pretty girls and boys and money. There is no difference.

Have you made a resolution about eating less or cutting down on carbs?
Have you thought about that child who sleeps hungry every single night hoping that she will get a meal tomorrow.

Have you made a resolution about eating chocolate or cake or cheese only once a week?
Have you thought about that little boy who picks up dirty bread from the street because he has nothing else eat.

Have you made a resolution about spending less money on clothes?
Have you thought about the naked little child out on a lonely cold street.

Have you made a resolution about watching less TV and studying more?
Have you thought about giving a doll to that little girl who hasn't used her hands fro anything else except begging?

Have you made a resolution about studying better and getting good marks?
Have you thought about giving hope to someone who wants to learn?

Have you made a resolution about treating your boyfriend/ girlfriend better this year?
Have you thought of saying 'thank you' to any waiter who opens the door for you?


Really, why should this year be any different? It does not matter whether you make resolutions or no or stick by them. What matters is the thought you are beginning your new year with.

Who you want to be

She cried herself to sleep last night. She cried herself to sleep the night before that too and the night before that. She cries herself to sleep every single day of her life. She does not like the dark lifelessness of the night when her dreams turn into night mares. When she discovers or realizes the other side of humanity. What is this other side of humanity? The other side of humanity makes her regret her existence. The light eyed girl tries to sleep with hands tight between her knees, crouched in a closed position as if trying to protect herself from the other side of humanity. Sometimes she feels her gray blanket is enough protection. But that is also the best she has.

A lot of early childhood experiences lead to psychological disorders says Psychology. She knows she is fine. Only scared. Of what? Of Rejection. The gravity of this is realized more and more by repeatedly facing it and getting it. But over the years this also makes her stronger and she relaxes a little while sleeping now.

The fact that she has been deceived by the male sex so many times in her life in the most gruesome ways that still give her night mares she wants to now change her options. If that means to sexually deviate herself then so be it. What is the problem in liking and loving someone who is just like you! Why should love be restricted to gender? She thought to herself. She knows for a fact that everything happens for a reason. She wants to be accepted she wants to get some peaceful sleep. More than anything else she wants to live.

She wants to be with someone who feels like her, who is like her. What is better than a girl then?

the sun does not shine bright day and night. There comes a time when everything goes dark and fear looms around her. Her arms are longing for an embrace, her hands are waiting to be held tight. Her tears are waiting to be seen.

Her mind is a turmoil right now where a thunderstorm is raging. She knows what she has to do. She has to pull up the blinds, open the windows and breathe in the fear of the night. She stands by the window gazing at the moon thinking of all that has gone by and all that awaits her.

Its all about you.

Close your eyes. Breathe free. The blur not yet gone? Close those brown eyes again, the smoke decides not to leave at all, it expects you to have the ability to find yourself and if you can't then accept being blind. You won't be able to see any color again, you might not be able to see the beauty of the smile on a mothers face when she see's her child for the first time, you might not be able to appreciate your lovers blush ever again after a kiss, you might not be able to witness an old couple romancing on a bench. So you decide. The smoke will always be there though no matter what you decide, but if you choose to know black for color, which according to me is just absence of color, then there is no hope at all. Open your closed eyes and make an effort to change what has been going on for long now.

Losing hope is very easy, it is by far the simplest excuse to not do anything, to not stand up and claim. Yet the question is how far can you try, how far can you push and pull the bands of patience and tolerance? At one point of time you can take no more, the time you feel like giving up. But giving up really is not an option, it is more like running away. The sooner you accept, the shorter your marathon will be. Learn to forgive. The more you hate, the more you will suffer, think, waste time and tears. When you forgive, you also forget and hatred makes way from your heart and mind. To able to forgive requires a lot of time and thought. If you don't forgive the painful thoughts will create so much black that there will be no hope of color.

Life is too short to accommodate love it self, let alone hate. Smile at your enemies, it just requires stretching of a few muscles but takes a lot to hate someone and take pride in someone bitching about you because they are nothing but Jealous.

Just for sometime, for yourself, detach from the so called world, explore colors and appreciate the fact that you are YOU and not someone else.

A shattered glass.

The crisp and thick Nirma white uniform, the red batch on the left hand side, exactly over the heart, that black belt with my name 'Ushma Jhaveri' inscribed in golden, the memories bring tears to my eyes.

This is something i really wanted to write for long.

My mom said 'Ushma you cannot do this, this is not for girls!'' on the 1st of January 2001, when i was cribbing near the door that i want to join Karate. I had been throwing tantrums for a long long time. Finally she had to give in. I felt those robes for the first time on my body. They gave me confidence immediately even if i was bound by the white belt (lowest rank). My classes started, my mother expected me to quit in 1 month. I lasted for 6 years. After that i was cradling a broken heart as my instructors decided to move to Australia.

Even today when i look at the prized possession, my black belt i do feel proud of myself of having achieved something but at the same time the feeling of leaving something gropes my heart. I am not being dramatic, i really wanted to be a Samurai. I wanted to do more after black, i want to learn other forms; kung fu, parkour, tai chi, judo etc. All those jumps, kicks, punches, tactics, defenses are stored deep down in my mind that often surface with a feeling of sadness. I wanted to do more. I was eager in spite of the physical short comings.

Those gold, silver and bronze medals make me proud. This is the only thing i might have achieved. This is the only thing i want to be. My mother said i wont last but i was a bronze medal winner in a national tournament in the fighting competition (kumite in Japanese). I have 11 medals to my credit. I cant help but brag a little as i am feeling extremely nostalgic right now.

Those golden letters on my black belt say more than just my name, they say mom you were wrong. Today she can't help but tell everyone ''MY daughter is a black belt!" :).

-Thanks mom.

P. S : I plan to do kick boxing soon :P.

When colors come out more lively.

I am supposed to be working on my FC project right now, but obviously i am not doing that. I just made myself an awesome veg cheese toast (trust me that and ice is the best i do in the kitchen). So anyways, there is no other pleasure known to me better than writing. Most often my deep and dark feelings come pouring out like blood gushing out of a deep cut, when i am writing. The doors which are closed with numerous clasps open as soon as i lay my unmanicured fingers on the keyboard. Sometimes i don't know how tied up i am deep down and when my thoughts start flowing they all come out and spread so far and wide that it becomes difficult for me to gather them again and put them back inside. Sometimes feel my troubles and problems are greater than anyone elses. But I surely do not know what that small child or old woman sleeping empty stomach beneath the lamp post is feeling. Are her rocks harder than mine? No matter how much you try to tell yourself it is Ok. The fact is it never really is ok. i do not want to be sexist or anything but women do feel more than the men do. It is a personal perception.
I strongly feel that only the end of the world is really the end of the world!! I don't know how much farther i will have to go to discover the light from the darkness but even if i am going slow i am not stopping. Life is a movie reeling slow and slow and slow, maybe like K serials, those are like agonizingly slow and big time disasters :P. (But i still feel that Woman has power, she is making a lot of money at the expense of brainless viewers).
There comes this one time in my life when I feel to hell with all the things that are creating volcanic effects in my head. This one time is when all the colors come out more lively. This one time is with my friends. No matter how much I feel that I am one person who has never had successful friendships, these are the people who make me feel quiet the opposite. We never need a reason to celebrate. For us life is a celebration. We do not have any conditions to like anyone, but we do have our own prejudices!! No nail-breaking-trauma darlings, somehow no men :P, no pretenses. We can laugh on the same jokes all the time. Since we have been sadly separated by our respective pursuits we do make it a point to meet up and freely abuse those who pretend to be too busy to meet :P. We think it is fun to watch RGV movies and make fun of it, we think it is still awesome to buy balloons and make little kids jealous. We still think it is fun to lick our ice creams and behave like hogs as soon as food touches the table. We think it is fun to yell at people from the cab/car. We think it is fun to dance to 'pardesi pardesi jaana nahi'. We think it is fun to cry together out of nostalgia. When life brings us together everything changes. It is a totally different world for us. All of us some bitching, mindless thoughts, feelings, opinions, views and pent up emotions, stress, fatigue and problems in our respective empty heads. But everything is forgotten when we are together. I do not know what Junior college would have been like without the presence of these 4 amazing beauties. No matter how much i can hate them, i couldn't have got better companions to bitch. Some people make my day. They make my Life.

My dilapidated workshop

Haven't written for an entire month, feel horrible, tied up, lost, over sensitive, wasted, tired, sleepless, hungry, thirsty,purple-eyed. I feel i am being followed by someone? I think it is my own self. And may be.. may be i am not sure.. it is called 'conscience'. And i also think that it is dull and grey. I do not like being followed. But at some time i have to face it. Face the consequences of my own actions. I am not ready yet, please spare me if you are listening. I am too engulfed in the dream which i know would never come true. I dream of being a martyr for the nation, i dream of owning a BMW bike, i dream of cutlery, i dream of houses with a sea at their expanse, i dream of being a Samurai, i dream of being a photographer, i dream of writing till my pen keeps flowing till my thoughts keep reeling, i dream of red, orange, green, yellow, pruple and blue, i dream of being somewhere, i dream of white. But there is just black and even more gray. I have lost my voice, my vision, my strength, myself in a sea of doings; wrong and right. it is vast and i am so taken. There is no more place now. The organ that is the size of my closed hand is filled. Filled to the brim and now over spilling. The light brown color of my eyes has taken the shade of a dark mysterious brown. I have no intentions of solving the water problems that always prevails no matter the floods, at my expense. I never wanted to but i cannot help.... myslelf. They say self help is the best help, did you not still need someone to tell you that? I open the windows and only see a vast, emoty, silent, cold, dark, rude expanse of nothingness that is so vicious that is so penetrative, that is so damn consuming that my shadow, my foot prints, my essence and my presence has all evaporated. It has been forever berrating me to do something for myself, it is so small, my little conscience, it shouts, beckons and i pretend not to hear a word of it.

In front of that 1 shade all my colors fade, 1 front of that 1 shade my color has no value at all, i desperately try to mix it with my palate and brush, i empty the whole tube but that shade does not seem to budge as my color still tries to penetrate the strong walls of my own image. There is a constant struggle between me, myself and I. Some people are just trying to pretend to be happy with what they have. Some are happy that way. Some are not happy even if they have everything. Some are never happy with what they have. And some are just clueless. I do not even want to define perfect because it does not exist and has not been experienced.

1 titanic ring for a second is enough and my heart leaps and bounds. There is no requirement of another moment. And if it does not ring for long then it is enough to render me restless. Someday it might just stop ringing. It is my biggest living fear other than insectophobia. I live on the ring. I eat, drink, sleep and breathe that titanic ring. I patiently as well as impatiently await the ring. Sometimes it rings beautifully. It surpasses sleep, hunger, thirst and even life. It is a powerful addiction. It is an addiction i like. It is the oxygen i cannot do without. I sound crazy. stupid, foolish and dumb. Without the ring i have no value, i fall apart and break in to pieces says the owner of the dilapidated workshop.

This place is not very far. It lies amidst lonliness on a broken mountain top. May be it is far away from your reach. It is far away from my reach to.

From and to anonmyous.

Some correlation!

Recently my traveling life has been through a transition. Umm a very effective yet tiring change. I am mentioning this because it is of importance to me. As I have already said trains fascinate me. For more than 2 years I have been traveling by the Harbor line whose end is the historical CST station. Today i made a pass of Bandra to Church gate. Why? My college is bang opposite Church gate station, early in the mornings it is difficult to find cabs and everyday 30rs on cab is bit heavy on the meager pocket. My life made a very radical change from lazing around the 2 JC years to now working hard. Quiet hard.

I sometimes feel that there is no motorman leading the trains, I feel the trains function themselves, they probably know where each commuter wants to go. Off course this is my imagination and not Harry Potter but I seriously feel trains are magical creatures. The way trains change tracks, is something i love watching. Early in the mornings when i land up at king circle as early as 7:30am, I board a train that takes me to Bandra. That is just a 6 minute distance. As my train approaches bandra and halts i get off to climb the bridge that takes me to platform number 4 where I get a fast train to Church gate. Why fast train only? I like the Speed!!! It is so superfast!!! I love hanging in the morning, letting my wet hair dry, listen to Dido or Webbe or Twain and notice and make observations about people on the train and crowds on stations.

I interpret my journey from King Circle to Bandra on the harbor line as the slow beginnings of my mornings, where i wake up to my alarm that plays Aqua - Roses are red to wake me up. It is a bit slow and lazy. But by the time i am all set and ready to leave being done with my glass of milk and fruits I feel Bandra has arrived and it is my time to move faster.

Now Bandra has arrived, i get on to the train and get to the other side of the door leaving home behind on the door from where i just entered. I look at the vast expanse of rail tracks and i am reminded of the long yet interesting and amazing lectures of the day. The train begins to roll and I am reminded of my 1st lecture.

The fast train of my life from Bandra halts directly at Dadar, missing two stations in the middle. I interpret Dadar as my Psychology lecture where everything is so packed and jammed and trying to fit in. I am reminded of the sea of chapters that i have to do while looking at the large sum of people entering and leaving the train. Just as the subject is difficult, it is difficult to get in the train as well at Dadar.

After Dadar the train directly halts at Bombay Central, again the fast train of my life misses 3 stations. As the train arrives at Bombay Central i think it as my ECS (effective communication skills) class, not too many people, not too much matter to absorb. Nice, slow and easy to understand and follow. I also interpret it as my Literature class, again not too much to take in, just a little crowd and simple.

The fast train of my life becomes slow now. Just like my Philosophy class. Where everything is taught slowly and done slowly. As the train approaches Grant road a not very large group of eager looking people enter and descend. Everything very will sorted and organized, moving very systematically. Yet very very interesting subject.

The now slow train halts at Chrani road when i think of my French class, absolutely useless and very little people getting in and getting off! Just as the attendance of my French class! I don't like!

Marine lines, reminds me of FC (Foundation skills). A very beautiful scenrio outsdie the station, vast expanse of clean roads and maintained greenery, just as the subject is beautifully taught by one of the mosting amazing proffessors i have ever known!

The fast yet slow train of life just like my life is fast yet slow ends at churchgate. Where i step out of the station and move ahead to realize my day.

My day ends by lunch time, where i again take a fast train back home. This train is emoty and tired and forcing itself to the shed for break just like i am going to my shed, my home to get my body some fuel and rest :).

Sometimes a fast life can be very hectic. But some amount of slowness, some amount of pulled chains will help you relax. It is essential to take a deep breath and enjoy your surroundings and life. The relaxation enters my day in the evenings when i take a slow train again from King Circle to Bandra again to let my wheels slow down, where i get to be with him. He makes me realize the importance of slowing down and taking it easy when i am busy cramming too much that is not mentioned here and that makes me irrationally tired in the fast train of my life. He tells me ''Ushma, it is sometimes essential to take a slow train too''. Well he is my slow train.He is the slow train I always look forward too :)

But I wonder will there ever be a superfast train? Bandra to Chruchgate direct? But the slow train is always there so no worries :)

O! i have nothing here but random shit!

I have nothing more than random to impart to you readers. Haven't been blogging in a while now! The swine flu and the strike have made my mind and thoughts stagnant with rust and my grey cells wither away to glory, or so i guess!! The emptiness of the mind, the laziness of the body does not prevent me from randomizing (that sounds like grazing! eww). But anyway i will still gargle the randomized bakwaas!!

If not anything else, the strike could kill. Totally hazardous to health and dangerous. C'mon guys its been 25 days!! I want COLLEGE!!!

The flu!! O boi! Please people take all the precautions you keep reading everywhere. It is sad. Because it is in the air we breathe.

I wish the Horoscope bit would get over. I have already written a 40 on it. Please Niks!!!

I wish Facebook would get more interesting. Seriously i have lost all hopes from Orkut already.

i wish she would act a little less convienient ( You probably dont know whom i am talking about, but i wish i could name! just keep guessing. Could be jim Carrey you never know? )

I like Hannah Montanna ok!!!! ( ya go laugh at me!!)

And i am not GIRLLLLLLLYYYY ok.... swirl your tongue and thr r howmuch ever you can. Yeah! that much is the emphasis!! I dont like all that hugging and touch and awww and my shocking pink-trying-to-attract-attention-from-stupid-boys nail colour nail broke!! Please, if you see me, don't HUG me!!! please!!!

I want my hair shorter. I want a boycut! But my mom says she wouldnt let me in! Actually i want a bald but if the boy cut is such an issue i really cant risk asking for a bald!! who knows she might not allow me near the stairs also! (I could take the lift but !! :P)

When anger dissolves love evolves!! (I like <3)

I am reading the 5th Potter book! yayayayaya!! But i have to read so many other things that are more constructively useful for me. (ill just ignore i said that!).

I wish my computer speakers would work you know! I have so many movies to watch. The stupid thing works on my phone but not on my computer. And i am too lazy to dial the engineer. If the strike persists i might consider doing that. The strike has been for 4 weeks now. Sigh!

Me and my beautiful 4 have decided to meet up every saturday!! Isnt that so kool!!

I want navy blue streaked hair. But neitther am i going to get a boy cut nor a bald and nor the navy blue hair. Sad!

He has a very good taste in music. I like! Oh no! I love!

Spilling out even more junk.

Someone is off my system completely!! O yeah! (as for the name Go figure!! ;) )

I want a scooty pep plus!! You know, why should boys have all the fun!!

I have mousse waiting for me in the fridge. Yumm!!!

I could do with a new deo!

Oh yeah my phone rocks!! it so does baby!!

New glasses are definately on my list. How about Purple coloured ones? I mean the frame not the glass of course!

I don't even know why some people are on my list? Seriously i just recieve stupid notifications from you! ( ****** took a how sexy i am quiz and invited you to take the same) I mean really are you that...uh what ever chuck!

I am sad about that fact that i cant charge and use headset on my phone at the same time. But my phone is still super sexy ok!! I look at it with lusty eyes sometimes :P

Ok ill go get my mousse now and shut it.
YaWn... i hope you get the picture.

Finally its all about the 'ek chutki sindoor' ...don't know why i say this..
ok i am shutting it..... tatatatatataaaaaa