tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68006366942834411312024-03-23T16:05:50.240+05:30The Girl With Too High A DreamAn outlet to my creative pursuits... Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.comBlogger124125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-87748331212873899342020-12-03T00:56:00.001+05:302020-12-03T00:56:17.307+05:30If I ran into you<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><i><br /></i></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><i><br /></i></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrA2-4vh2Pywq6PrUSdi0tQTQeq1FZchrxYvCXr6HbdhMT_UtunGxMJr3KZEAYjAT_mOpPi26EeIN5YNAG3LkGxnBLMpr4flbKNhiPTONfY84rjkXAFmnUwXWuTIMYn2svUQG9xEQTo60X/s448/350561947.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="294" data-original-width="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrA2-4vh2Pywq6PrUSdi0tQTQeq1FZchrxYvCXr6HbdhMT_UtunGxMJr3KZEAYjAT_mOpPi26EeIN5YNAG3LkGxnBLMpr4flbKNhiPTONfY84rjkXAFmnUwXWuTIMYn2svUQG9xEQTo60X/s16000/350561947.jpg" /></a></div><i><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><i><br /></i></div>"I read this article on thought catalog today on 'I Don’t Know What I Would Do If I Ran Into You' and that got me thinking. What would I do ?</i></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><i>
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I have thought about you every other day for the past two years. Even though I have new interests now, you do come to my thoughts. " </i></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">These were my thoughts two years ago. Last week, I dreamt that we casually end up meeting each other in a school park, you with your kid and me in my running attire. Yes, I occasionally do dream about you. We had a common friend who introduced me to your wife. She gave a knowing smile and an emphatic Hi. And I, well I simply smiled and said Hi back to you and your family. </div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I woke up startled that I did not feel tears welling up my eyes or the emotional turmoil that your thoughts and dreams generally caused. I guess I can say I am finally over you although you were never mine to begin with. All it took was 7 years to make peace with it. </div>
Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-11003572301749311362017-07-05T12:54:00.001+05:302017-07-05T12:54:07.758+05:30Radio Silence<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It is almost a year since my last post. I can easily say that it was a writer's block and escape but then it will not be true. I have had writer's block before. I know how it feels. It feels like your brain has emptied itself out, thoughts hung out to dry. But what happened in the last one year is slightly different. I was itching to write all the time. My drafts are filled with notes written both drunk and sober that did not pass the filter. The filter was a simple question - Is it about him ? The answer was always a yes. I did not want to be the pathetic writer who writes sappy posts about love. I am still not sure if I was allowed that emotion considering nothing really happened. How do you mourn the loss of something that was only in your head? My answer was by suppressing the urge to put it into words. Hence, the radio silence. </div>
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I am going to try and not be the person who writes only sappy poems. This radio silence has to end. </div>
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Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-62137714229275359612016-08-31T03:14:00.001+05:302016-08-31T03:14:17.015+05:30The Thinking Tales - His Thoughts<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
He knew he was in trouble when he realized that he was actually enjoying the conversation. He should have been bored by now. He was neither into conversations nor people. He was generally considered a misanthrope. Yet, she seemed to have broken through and made a connection. They were alike in most of their ideals but had strong differences in some. With her, he felt like he was peeling a cabbage, finding new layers, new shades of her personality every day. He just hoped that she would not turn out to be an onion in the end. He realized that most people he knew were in fact like dry coconut - a tough outer shell which is hard to crack but once open, very predictable and hollow on the inside.<br />
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He liked to keep people at an arm's distance but he was already confiding in her. He realized he needed a war strategy now. He did a quick 'what-if' analysis in his head and decided to go with the scenario that promised lesser drama. He made up a quick scathing remark that he can send her way. But then, the smile stopped him. She was looking at him with a smile in her eyes so contagious and complete that he could feel himself smiling back at her, rendering his remark useless.<br />
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He strongly believed in making things happen. He was never the one to wait around and say. life brought me here. He had always been the one who said I brought myself here. But when it came to her, he was not sure what he wanted. Maybe it was time to make an exception, he thought. Rules are meant to be broken. Not everything needs to have a purpose or a destination. So, he decided he would just wait it out and see if his heart can weather her storm. For now, he was happy shooting down her arguments with logic.<br />
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<i>P.S.: I had so much trouble writing this down as I realized that I do not have a good understanding on how guys think. Most of my friends suggested they might not be thinking so much at all. Maybe, that is true. Maybe not. </i></div>
Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-18604803745033520072016-07-29T00:01:00.001+05:302016-07-29T00:09:16.770+05:30The Thinking Tales - Her Thoughts<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="text-align: justify;">She knew she was in love when she realized that the next sentence she wanted to utter is I am in love with you, no matter what question he asked. They were having a conversation so long and complete that in the end, she was just happy and content to stay silent. Then, there was the smile that refused to go away when she looked at him. She was pretty sure that he would be secretly wondering what a </span>weirdo<span style="text-align: justify;"> she was. She was arguing her way through his irrefutable logic a while back and all she could do now was to smile and nod. Well, that is what love did to her. It tore away the walls she had built around her heart and took away every single shred of caution with which she had protected it once, leaving her raw and needy. </span></div>
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She realized that she might never be able to say those words to him. She wondered if she should turn and run in the opposite direction or sit, talk and let her heart figure out alternate ways of showing it. There were agonizing moments she spent with him wondering if she should just break the news to him and see how he reacted. At least, she would have a closure that way. But then she thought about what would happen next. What if he refuses to be responsible for her heart and pushes it back to her ? Or worse, what if he stomps all over it ? How will she put the pieces back together the way it was. The truth, she realized is that she will not be able to. She will never be the same. She will become a little more cynical, learning to veil her pain in dry sarcasm and humor. The walls that broke down will reappear, only a little higher and tougher this time. </div>
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So what should she do now ? she wondered. She did not know he was trouble when he walked in. At least when he moved closer, she should have known. But now, it was too late. She was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. She knew that there was nothing but pain waiting for her at the end. She decided she will worry about it tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day. </div>
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<i>P.S. : I am trying to get back to writing after a while. Hopefully, I will be able to complete this series. Coming up next is 'His Thoughts'</i></div>
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Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-14581509185319510102016-06-15T17:13:00.001+05:302016-06-15T17:13:46.418+05:30A Dream<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-55154305141007565502016-05-31T08:52:00.001+05:302016-05-31T08:53:01.368+05:30Love is..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-3657544711133334072016-05-29T13:43:00.002+05:302016-05-31T08:53:12.088+05:30Forehead<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-26994225264356940392016-05-04T23:18:00.000+05:302016-05-31T08:53:23.118+05:30A quick smile <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-52713762085130151482016-05-03T00:35:00.002+05:302016-05-03T00:35:53.552+05:30Pauses<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-64635360373543930442016-05-01T21:03:00.003+05:302016-05-01T21:03:51.945+05:30Zero Posts Left #ATOZCHALLENGE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I confess that I am in a hurry here. I am a day late and currently rushing to complete the A to Z challenge. It has been such a wonderful experience. Every day, the letter I had to write for the day was always at the back of my mind. I was looking for inspiration everywhere. Sometimes, the posts came from the discussions at work while sometimes they were based on the words suggested by my friends. The learning has been immense in the challenge. There were a lot of new readers and it has become a morning ritual to check my blog for new comments. </div>
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Before I paint a completely rosy picture, I must admit the downfalls of having to write a post a day. Sometimes, I had to compromise on my sleep hours while sometimes I had to compromise on the quality. But the encouraging words from the comments section kept me going. Thank you readers. </div>
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I am here finally, with zero posts left to write for the challenge. It has been a great challenge, testing both my preseverance and writing skills. But I pledge to continue to write, atleast a post a week. Adios!</div>
Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-18785580834666184652016-05-01T20:17:00.002+05:302016-05-01T20:17:53.765+05:30You #ATOZCHALLENGE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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You. Yes, I am talking to you. You know that you are awesome, right ? No matter what the societal norms dictate, you are indeed awesome in your own way. Our society tries to judge an elephant by its ability to swim and a fish with its ability to climb. We judge people without knowing their full story. I am not being preachy here. I have done it innumerable times myself. What I want to emphasise here is it does not really mean much what others think of you. In the end, all that counts is what you think of yourself. It has the power to change the way the society perceives you. If you look carefully, one trait you will find among all success stories is the self-confidence. It is given different names - conviction, self-esteem and sometimes even arrogance. But then, it is the underlying factor in all of them - knowing that you are awesome. </div>
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Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-34604012776548814772016-04-30T15:37:00.002+05:302016-04-30T15:37:41.040+05:30Xerox Shop #ATOZCHALLNGE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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He loved the Xerox shop. Every time, he landed at the Xerox shop to take a copy of the study notes, he went into his land of imaginations. He always had to wait in line, staring monotonously at the wall. He had gotten into the habit of letting his imagination run scot-free during the wait. He had a small book with him where he took note of the ideas that came to him during the wait. It ranged from starting a xerox shop, offering competitive prices to this one to building a global brand for micro finances. </div>
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Years later, as he sat down in his cubicle turned into yet another corporate slave, he let his imaginations run scot-free as he stared at the code that was compiling. Buried under the code files and excel sheets, his business plan lay waiting, patiently for his patience to run out. </div>
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Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-33137399925740002532016-04-28T23:46:00.004+05:302016-04-28T23:46:36.727+05:30Words #ATOZCHALLENGE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Words. </div>
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Some are short</div>
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Some are long</div>
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Some are common</div>
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While some are rare</div>
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But no matter what</div>
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They flow endlessly</div>
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Through my keyboard</div>
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On to my very own space</div>
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On the internet</div>
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With a hope </div>
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That you will find it one day</div>
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Before this darkness that engulfs</div>
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Consumes me completely</div>
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Turning my dreams </div>
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Into Ashes</div>
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And I am no Phoenix</div>
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Though I wish I was one</div>
</div>
Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-88393308091789318182016-04-26T23:24:00.001+05:302016-04-26T23:25:14.692+05:30Vixen #ATOZCHALLENGE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUiG94Hn_QzHlgrH-WK4G0lKIfXAsfzYW0SOw2-U_xm-DAF2llkOeFx6q74zdxhPL5RElC51Ye77vG-v7YEKOhnbtQQfZNFCbWiDdukvNr_wrpeMzqTxaPazPpYcZEUVpm4AV4dK-v8xqT/s1600/Patrice-Murciano-acrylic-painting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUiG94Hn_QzHlgrH-WK4G0lKIfXAsfzYW0SOw2-U_xm-DAF2llkOeFx6q74zdxhPL5RElC51Ye77vG-v7YEKOhnbtQQfZNFCbWiDdukvNr_wrpeMzqTxaPazPpYcZEUVpm4AV4dK-v8xqT/s320/Patrice-Murciano-acrylic-painting.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
She was a vixen<br />
One of those untamed souls<br />
Always head held high<br />
Shoulders squared and ready for a fight<br />
Retorts on tip of her tongue<br />
<br />
But to him, she was a dream<br />
Gift-wrapped in bright colors<br />
With glittering eyes and sharp edges<br />
Stares that could freeze lakes<br />
And a smile that could melt rocks<br />
<br />
He worshiped her contours under the stars<br />
Striving to memorize her shapes<br />
Like the sky, she could never be fully his<br />
Though that one night he had<br />
Was enough for this lifetime of his</div>
Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-5467066135812025442016-04-26T22:09:00.004+05:302016-04-26T22:11:53.886+05:30Unknown to you #ATOZCHALLENGE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">
I wish I could tell you,</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">
How much I adore you.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">
Every time I see you,</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">
A smile blooms.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">
Every time I speak with you,</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">
My lips curve.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">
I try not to fall,</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">
But I already have.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">
I try not to show,</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">
But I miserably fail.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">
I try not to love,</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">
But I really do.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">
I know this is wrong,</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">
For you belong to someone else.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">
I know this is impossible,</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">
For fate will have the final laugh.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">
I know we are not meant to be,</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: center;">
For anonymous I will always remain..<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small; line-height: normal; text-align: left;">P.S. : This is something I had written years back. I kept coming back to this every time I started thinking about the letter 'U'. It was like I had hit a road block and I had to climb over no matter how much I try to find my way around it. </span></div>
</div>
</div>
Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-57792645369378898022016-04-26T07:46:00.000+05:302016-05-02T11:23:45.834+05:30Try until you succeed #ATOZCHALLENGE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFM6jkoUNfKLSmNBFFqcHQ900c4JttpzktMRUyqMHByumggjJj7wH4rjk-fpsCcrrlTox3_k-GzIoWit0SsOmVG7jw1tNfUQ16cHtZo8sNzWCK9FPtF5OncVuNLhVYiTNR3Re_bhFia2rp/s1600/download.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFM6jkoUNfKLSmNBFFqcHQ900c4JttpzktMRUyqMHByumggjJj7wH4rjk-fpsCcrrlTox3_k-GzIoWit0SsOmVG7jw1tNfUQ16cHtZo8sNzWCK9FPtF5OncVuNLhVYiTNR3Re_bhFia2rp/s1600/download.jpg" /></a></div>
He was determined to play with his brother today. But as usual, he and his friends were ignoring him. They were not passing the ball to him. Being a two-year-old, it was bound to happen. Amma always told him stories where the hero never gave up until he succeeded. Today, he was also going to try, try and try to reach the ball and kick it. With this resolve, he ran towards the middle of the playground hurling towards the big football. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
At that exact moment, his brother kicked the ball in his direction. The ball took a huge curve and landed on his face. Thud! he fell to the ground, trying to grab the ball. Soon, his brother's friends surrounded him and started fussing around him. Throwing a huge tantrum and thrashing the ground, he again reached for the ball and caught it between his tiny hands. He was about to kick it when Amma picked him up. She was annoyed that he was now covered in mud from the head to toe. But he was happy that he got to hold the ball for today. Tomorrow is another day, he thought with a sigh as Amma doused him with a bucket of water.</div>
</div>
Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-3051931123587541542016-04-25T01:38:00.000+05:302016-04-25T01:38:22.842+05:30Summers and Books #ATOZCHALLENGE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Growing up, summer holidays were my favorite part of the year. Those care-free days. Those endless badminton playing sessions. For me, it was more special since I spent my summer holidays with my grandmother at Bangalore. For a kid from Karur, Bangalore was this big city with gardens, parks, apartments, wide roads that were perfect for playing badminton. It still is, but a little more polluted and hotter than ever. I remember spending hours under the sun, with my grandmother calling out for lunch and tea. It was perfect. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Then, the plague of summer classes hit. Suddenly, everyone was doing something or the other during summer holidays. I returned to Bangalore one year and was surprised to know most of my friends had taken up some computer class and were now speaking a different language now. Not to be left behind, I rushed home and told my uncle how I had to join a computer center immediately. Thankfully he refused and gave me books to read to instead. And as they say, rest is history. I am a self confessed bookworm now. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What is your summer tale ? Share your experiences in the comment section below !</div>
</div>
Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-58367177185767656242016-04-25T00:58:00.001+05:302016-04-25T00:58:14.525+05:30Revenge #ATOZCHALLENGE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVG4XtMQNuRmUeGEICV5YM0HNkcvSN0Kzm3_jcg7uen4OW95n1Mrp5aDhjdpExBLBzCwTstx1JpXSExcQrzkjB5VFvV6qLaqqzXfb5RKt3fQi820-XcCGL4ac_K_USFn00kHkL_nqg_5rD/s1600/images+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVG4XtMQNuRmUeGEICV5YM0HNkcvSN0Kzm3_jcg7uen4OW95n1Mrp5aDhjdpExBLBzCwTstx1JpXSExcQrzkjB5VFvV6qLaqqzXfb5RKt3fQi820-XcCGL4ac_K_USFn00kHkL_nqg_5rD/s1600/images+%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
She sat in the corner sulking. All kinds of thoughts ran through her mind. She had wanted to pounce on him. But, she had behaved maturely and let it go. As she waited silently for him to reach his room, she imagined the look on his face when he opened his cupboard. 'Serves him right for being a tattletale', she thought, rubbing her hands together in anticipation. She could hear his footsteps now. His scream reverberated through the house, as the cold bucket of ice emptied on him from the cupboard. She took the saying 'Revenge is a dish best served cold' quite literally to the heart. Well, all is fair in love and war, especially when it's between siblings!</div>
</div>
Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-17792737331223721052016-04-21T00:48:00.001+05:302016-04-21T00:48:41.446+05:30Queues - Lesson Learnt While Waiting in One #ATOZCHALLENGE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Queues. Something that we as Indians will never really understand. The concept seems positively alien to us. Tell people to make a queue and wait for something and you will see leadership qualities evolving all around you. There will be people telling you why they should be prioritized over others</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
My most recent encounter with this annoying attitude that we seem to possess as a nation was at the Aircel Chennai Open 2016 Finals at the SDAT stadium in Nungambakkan, Chennai. The event management and planning was very poor, inefficient and chaotic. People, who had bought online tickets had to get validated and get actual tickets at one counter while the entrance itself had a long queue for the security checks. </div>
<div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJo8oZnTUbbUCVHobsuLGmQkK3xe3Oll7BRSiTd6ele-tzau7LPxogs-eFeT9keGkXvBdRQS6Y7s3LaxDQxBFoMesKArtrmxZ9_wjohtokjcLgAoEhIf0Fy_Uora6HW7TPwWRX0O7Dv-eH/s1600/queues.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJo8oZnTUbbUCVHobsuLGmQkK3xe3Oll7BRSiTd6ele-tzau7LPxogs-eFeT9keGkXvBdRQS6Y7s3LaxDQxBFoMesKArtrmxZ9_wjohtokjcLgAoEhIf0Fy_Uora6HW7TPwWRX0O7Dv-eH/s320/queues.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now there were three counters open where tickets can be collected. With people being people, there were three long queues at the counter with lot of people trying to barge in the middle, some through friends while some were more bold and just joined in the middl. Anyone who have studied queuing theory will know that single line is the fastest model. Yet, we see this happening almost everywhere. We have to give credit to airline and bank industry in this regard for they have somehow managed to curb all natural instincts and successfully implement a single line system. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There are occasions when we realize how too much use of something good can turn sour. This was one of them. After collecting the ticket, we headed towards entrance to see another long queue. To their credit, it was a single file. But as we neared the entrance, we saw a lot of people who were stepping aside and letting people move front. It was then I realized that the famous Indian Jugaad instincts had kicked in. People who came in groups split among themselves and were trying to reach the goal simultaneously. Lot of people near the gate were waiting in the queue without getting their tickets from the other counter ! This is what you call resource optimization. </div>
</div>
Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-48123685626541200292016-04-20T00:50:00.002+05:302016-04-20T00:50:36.871+05:30Picture #ATOZCHALLENGE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Thinking about topic for P led to thoughts about a dear departed friend and then my head became too murky to write. So decided to go for short fiction instead !<br />
<br />
#1<br />
Pictures speak louder than words, her mom said.<br />
She wondered what the fuss was all about<br />
when she recited the poem the boy from the picture taught her<br />
<br />
#2<br />
She looked picture perfect in her wedding dress<br />
Only he knew her imperfect tattoo<br />
That she had unsuccessfully tried to remove after their breakup<br />
<br />
#3<br />
Picture yourself in a happy place, the yoga instructor repeated.<br />
It was always in his arms,<br />
Even after all these years, they refuse to let her go.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-86196544611850605362016-04-19T22:18:00.000+05:302016-04-19T22:18:11.768+05:30Obsessions #ATOZCHALLENGE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I am still trying to catch up to the challenge and spent hours yesterday contemplating on what I should write for the letter O. </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Finally, the inspiration came from an office discussion I had today. We all have our own little obsessions with things. For some, keeping the desktop clean is an obsession, while for some, not doing so is an obsession. I fall under the second category. I clean up my desktop regularly and then fill it back with all the downloads. Somehow, empty desktops seem to project emptiness into me and hence the obsession to keep it full. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSV6rMHHw2f5QdO0FrL-A7MfliisWDJNZgUA-uRqaRq2yYSTYoCXp4FC6DcHZjhZY45ECAZfdPZl1uQZvolQ-_tgBRLhlt_s_7EWWW9LA69T58YZCWkPOqMQjozpiMuKow1vODGLPH19Fi/s1600/Confession+linky.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSV6rMHHw2f5QdO0FrL-A7MfliisWDJNZgUA-uRqaRq2yYSTYoCXp4FC6DcHZjhZY45ECAZfdPZl1uQZvolQ-_tgBRLhlt_s_7EWWW9LA69T58YZCWkPOqMQjozpiMuKow1vODGLPH19Fi/s1600/Confession+linky.png" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In the discussion I had today, I discovered many useful tidbits about people and the predominant obsession seems to be around cleanliness and orderliness of the surroundings. I do not know how people would be interested and patient enough to wind back the power cable of the laptop in the evening while all I seem to be able to concentrate on is getting home. I am not sure how many of you knew this, but apparently the toothpaste should always be squeezed from the bottom. I was ignorant of this fact and now I cannot stop thinking about it whenever I see a toothpaste. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This set me off on a serious thinking mode about obsessions and I realized that this is the beauty of human nature. Every individual is unique and has his/her own ideals. As long as the obsessions do not become compulsions that intrude and trouble others, I think it is okay to indulge in them. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Do share your obsessions, if you have any in the comments below !</div>
</div>
Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-81335752847042751922016-04-18T23:12:00.001+05:302016-04-18T23:12:35.293+05:30Norwegian Wood #ATOZCHALLENGE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I am trying to catch up to the A to Z challenge. I missed a couple of days because I was travelling to home. Last weekend, I spent an entire day reading Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Now, I have heard a lot of people talk about Murakami, but somehow missed reading it until now. I have seen numerous lines/quotes beautifully written and expressed on love, loss and life by Murakami. So, my expectations were riding high when I started the book. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The story is about a boy who loses his best friend to suicide, falls in love with his best friend's girl, struggles to overcome the depression and meets another lively girl who breezes life into his mundane existence. The book is absolutely beautiful, filled with very memorable lines. But if you ask me if I will recommend it to anyone, my answer would be 'No'. The book is so brilliantly written that depression flows from the pages of the book into the person reading it. You can feel the intense pain, confusion and feelings that the characters of the book experience through the words. It would probably leave you sapped of your energy.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
These are my most favorite lines from the book, mainly because of the optimism. It shone like a lone star on a dark, dark night. </div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
You know, they've got these chocolate assortments, and you like some but you don't like others? And you eat all the ones you like, and the only ones left are the ones you don't like as much? I always think about that when something painful comes up. Now I just have to push these off and everything will be okay. Life is a box of chocolates.</blockquote>
<br />
Indeed, life is a box of chocolates ! </div>
Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-42009962042514844302016-04-18T22:49:00.002+05:302016-04-18T22:49:20.586+05:30Mondays #ATOZCHALLENGE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Believe it or not, I have a thing for Mondays. Usually, I will be one of the few persons to reach office. On other days, I am probably in the last few, but not on Mondays. I am generally quite excited to get back to work after blissfully spending my weekend(read <a href="http://girlwithtoohighadream.blogspot.in/2016/04/holidays-atozchallenge.html" target="_blank">here </a>to see how I spend it). </div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4iFuOtxKSgjRN79ENdwV9riCkxB7OK8rEzF9yUINJx-FZe7-1InLPX7mdBfMBIK9tEhWY5og17OBI0OTNrbJIdlTUn1kj9cLkr4LkBw4ZWV-SAg1lxuLx7sZ3DrNwHaHkI44z6o6-z9hz/s1600/85702a5d18f36d6fd9c65bc1eff12295.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4iFuOtxKSgjRN79ENdwV9riCkxB7OK8rEzF9yUINJx-FZe7-1InLPX7mdBfMBIK9tEhWY5og17OBI0OTNrbJIdlTUn1kj9cLkr4LkBw4ZWV-SAg1lxuLx7sZ3DrNwHaHkI44z6o6-z9hz/s1600/85702a5d18f36d6fd9c65bc1eff12295.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
A lot of my friends and colleagues are surprised by this. For me, the logic is quite simple. I absolutely love my workplace and I have an excellent set of peers. I cannot wait to meet them again on Monday, after the brief hiatus. There are stories to share and jokes to laugh at. Plus, there are tasks to complete as well. I like to believe that I experience this strange euphoria due to the fact that I live life on my terms without worries. Weekends are for rejuvenation and I am back to work, fresh as a peach on Monday. </div>
<br />
Feel free to share your thoughts on Mondays :)</div>
Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-51979493342858669192016-04-15T00:38:00.001+05:302016-12-29T12:42:40.038+05:30A Letter to Love #ATOZCHALLENGE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-P7vqFB6cPmLIvIO3aL5CdU-l-dsSeyQd3bY6568VrWQ_SNmBopBAslMYiu8y6BDCeRYqClHILBiyp-U0A1-MMxPMO-9OVJa-BqjHsprjMJhOw-p-iN3HBPD9ph7h9ul8Y0LEgWERzEOx/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-P7vqFB6cPmLIvIO3aL5CdU-l-dsSeyQd3bY6568VrWQ_SNmBopBAslMYiu8y6BDCeRYqClHILBiyp-U0A1-MMxPMO-9OVJa-BqjHsprjMJhOw-p-iN3HBPD9ph7h9ul8Y0LEgWERzEOx/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div>
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Dear Love,<br />
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I have been meaning to write to you for sometime now. But then, I convinced myself that it had not been long enough. Not yet. Though you never really visited me in person, I was fascinated by your cousins whom I have met over the years. Remember your youngest cousin Crush whom you sent my way while in college. I will never forget the embarrassing moment when I subjected to life lessons upon admission. Remember the close cousin, Unrequited love who stalked me for a while. I am sure it was not your fault. But it took two years for me to realize that it was not worth the pain and finally let go. </div>
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Since then I have been waiting. Patiently. For you to visit. I hope you are better than your cousins. I accept that they gave me wonderful memories. But they also left scars. Some scars so deep that my emotions seem to have fallen into them and have been trapped there ever since. I hope that when you finally visit, you would bring with you the pieces of my heart your cousins took. I hope you would fix those scars and rescue my emotions. I do not want to meet any more of your cousins. I have just enough pieces of my heart left to be able to function normally. So let us not risk it now. </div>
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Enough of this hide and seek. Let's meet up as soon as possible, shall we ? </div>
Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6800636694283441131.post-5661618656782437332016-04-14T00:57:00.001+05:302016-04-14T00:57:08.440+05:30Kisses #ATOZCHALLENGE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
She eagerly waited for days. She had wanted to go and get some herself. Yet, she resisted the temptation. She was becoming too addicted to it and had decided to stay away for a while.<br />
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But now she could not wait any longer. He had finally arrived. Excited, she ran towards the gate to welcome him. She could barely contain herself as he spoke. She was looking forward to the magical moment as she stared at him wide-eyed. Finally he stopped talking and went back to his desk. Her mobile beeped.<br />
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She ran excitedly towards his desk. The email read 'Hershey's kisses at my desk. Valid until the stocks last !'<br />
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P.S. : Today is my 100th post on the blog ! A special moment indeed :)</div>
Gayathri Baskaranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17107341124321090050noreply@blogger.com4