Sometimes , if I have been irregular, the hill I climb looms like a spectre - something that scares me a little before I trod on its uneven pathways with halting steps. Then, as I climb, as I face the breathlessness with deep gulps of cool air, I relax. The smells of the fresh pudina growing alongside and bright yellow buds dotting the shrubs seem welcoming. Then climbing the hill is like moving my hands over a face - one that I am so familiar with, one that I love.
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Today is over and I am glad. I wish things were better today. Day began with an unpleasant doorbell. I wish things were sorted for good. Wo...
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This isn't exactly a feminist tirade, but this is written by a woman, and it is written in annoyance. You raise your girls to be sweet...
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I watched ‘Rang de basanti’. That, however, is not the point. Everyone now wants to go to Delhi and cruise around in jeeps at night. And tha...
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