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Archive for September, 2007



The politics of love


4 Votes | Average: 3.25 out of 54 Votes | Average: 3.25 out of 54 Votes | Average: 3.25 out of 54 Votes | Average: 3.25 out of 54 Votes | Average: 3.25 out of 5 (4 votes, average: 3.25 out of 5)
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The Politics of LoveIf love is just one big power struggle, with a huge territory to be gained or lost (much vaster than a mere Kashmir, let me tell you!), then here are some of the rules men and women reluctantly confess to:

From the guys:

If you drank too much last night, and behaved like a bit of an ass NEVER admit it. She will turn you into a teetoller. Say it was bad booze, say it is because you were so exhausted, say you had a fever coming on which reacted badly (!) with the booze!

The night that never was


3 Votes | Average: 5 out of 53 Votes | Average: 5 out of 53 Votes | Average: 5 out of 53 Votes | Average: 5 out of 53 Votes | Average: 5 out of 5 (3 votes, average: 5 out of 5)
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The night that never wasIt was a little after 9 in the morning. Vanessa’s cubicle was adjacent to Mathur’s. As always she was dressed in neutral colours, shades that never called attention to her face or figure. Her hair pulled back tightly and knotted into a neat bun, she looked like someone who might have made a good nun. An unbecoming pair of spectacles completed the picture of plainness she projected. She arranged her loose top that reached her knees and straightened her pants before she settled down to work.
 

Unconditional Love


6 Votes | Average: 4 out of 56 Votes | Average: 4 out of 56 Votes | Average: 4 out of 56 Votes | Average: 4 out of 56 Votes | Average: 4 out of 5 (6 votes, average: 4 out of 5)
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Ice-cream parlourThe first time he saw her after she had walked out of his life was at Nirula’s, a popular ice-cream parlour in Delhi. He had recognized her even at that distance, noticed her long hair wound into a bun at the nape of her neck. Suddenly she turned and saw him. The look on her face told him she didn’t know what to do. He sensed rather than saw the beginnings of a small tentative smile making its appearance. He pushed forward ignoring the protests of the other people waiting in the queue ahead of him till he was next to her.

Road Side Eats: Recipe for Romance?


2 Votes | Average: 4.5 out of 52 Votes | Average: 4.5 out of 52 Votes | Average: 4.5 out of 52 Votes | Average: 4.5 out of 52 Votes | Average: 4.5 out of 5 (2 votes, average: 4.5 out of 5)
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Raodside EatsThe wind-swept vista of Marine Drive had only a few people huddled against the light drizzle. But even in the rain, a brave vendor of roasted corn was plying his trade. As we walked hand in hand, we couldn’t help but pause at his cart, ordering ourselves a roasted cob of corn each. While our snack was being readied, we snuggled up to each other under one umbrella, watching the sparks fly from the corn-sellers ‘sigdi’ while we felt an answering glow in our own hearts…

When your neighbour starts learning violinngghh!


3 Votes | Average: 2.67 out of 53 Votes | Average: 2.67 out of 53 Votes | Average: 2.67 out of 53 Votes | Average: 2.67 out of 53 Votes | Average: 2.67 out of 5 (3 votes, average: 2.67 out of 5)
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Neighbour learning violinMy neighbour has started violin classes, and suddenly he is no longer the nice guy next door whom I hardly spared a thought for. I actually think about him for long stretches of time. I wonder exactly how thick his skin is, whether perhaps he has a hearing problem, whether he has a secret hatred of me because I have cats and maybe he hates cats? or maybe he hates all mankind and his version of revenge is a refinement on chemical warfare?..is there such a thing as musical (and of course I mean unmusical) warfare? You bet!