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Love
generally I take your snaps with others when a certain what should I say your acceptance is felt otherwise I simply dont take. Lady Diana fiasco is something that stirred the people who happened to be say so called liberate or say literate etc. Its a well known factor she was profusely beautiful and was accepted by the royal family because she belonged to an environment where delicacy or say common sense is recognized as a basic precincts of life. But love you never know what is the outcome. If you had have met sunita minhas in university times or even much later you would have given her a certificate that if a good girl exists that is only sunita minhas no body else on this bullshit earth. Well ! probably I have written what may storm the brains on earth. Lady Diana cold not understand that royal tag comes with a price tag. You can not behave like bloody Mayawati or bloody Kejriwal or say some bloody crank advocate or bloody Anna Hazzare or Kumar vishwas the greatest poet of earth damn it yaar, there is a limit to nonsense. I was talking of Lady Diana, its true she suffered from a psychiatric disorder. Its just equivalent to that of sunita Minhas. The person suffers from a complex whereby he or she feels at top of the world and bottoms down at other times I am cutting short but this patient ie. Lady Diana had another illusion whereby the person feels that her sexuality is something like bloody Cleo patra and the like. I remember she herself accepted that Charles is a frog but love that is not the way to understand life as a frog is not a frog in sciences. If you happen to be in my bed you may also conclude like that only. I feel this explanation is sufficient the rest is a history.
Love
your this snap is something say 8 star standard. I do not know your environment much but whenever I get a chance to see something I feel a real non sense around. May be like what should I say well very very difficult to describe the filth and I dont feel like wasting my energy to do this damn job. Some times I feel what would have been had there been no snap of yours. I have seen the toughest nerves or say the excruciating moments of life but again I feel may be you have been sent may be for me only. Probably this is what you are telling me through this electronic method so to say on ricky way of understanding the life around.
Love
If I can remember life was never rosy but you may have noticed I clearly tell you that I always paint roses. I remember by the time I could understand a little of my responsibility and the like road connecting sirsa to mirzapur was having a different scenario as the bus started running via kutawadh -its a village at midway. I remember I have used this route too frequent to reach my village when mom and dad lived their with their family and the like. I remember bus used to stay for half an hr at kutawadh and conductor took a long time just to relax and eat something just in no mood to go further as the bus hardly had any sufficient persons or say passengers to carry forward. It used to be very late at night when I was at Mirzapur. May be mom and Dad evoked a relevance that could make my system to understand that its the only life and I actually remember I never felt exhausted or bored. I dont feel ricky and navu have such phenomenon with them. May be shakunis never allowed their complete development.
Love
some times I feel this pc is bullshit more lucky to me as it possesses you whilst I continue to run my pencil you are no where near my house. Some bullshit auto wala did encircle it showing its bloody affiliation to damn kejriwal etc. Now a days New Delhi International air port is quite a different scenario. It needs an extra sense on both the persons coming and receiving to enable smooth pick up. If any ego happens to strike anywhere at the brain functions then only god knows how to locate the person. Now a days when ricky and navita come they come and go but I feel a little uncomfortable so to say. The mechanical way of New Delhi has changed a lot on concepts and perception levels and one has to tell to itself that its now a changed life style. If you love a person you happen to see her his ever possible glimpse or touch to enable your soul be a little comfortable as coming brings a different shower so does the departure but love these nuances are not easy to understand for those who are either bloody shakunis or some relative eg your father mother and sis can never understand what the hell I have happened to write.
LOVE
I am painting a love story based on the backdrop of a memory lane say of 1961-62. Mom inspite of her rural background was always fascinated to urban life. I remember one day she was saying her parents and she originally belongs to some kalyana area of erstwhile west Punjab of British India I have not uttered its new name as I have already derecognised its existence as a separate entity and have used my sciences that its a part of India only. Dad charted a plan to visit haridwar. We started on a fine early morning with a little rustic baggage I know kiran is very sophisticated but sophistication s of those eventful day s were not less defined. ( I will continue. ) Love kiran is a biologist too if I can remember. Just ask her draw a TS LS of mitochondria and tell the physiological functions of lysomes. She has forgotten that sanjeev mom was also a kiran too at one eventful day of the life. Any how I will continue. Sirsa was a sleepy town as life appeared as if nothing moves without a real wait. Dad knew it will take hell time for his i ternary so he took a long route via saharanpur of the yore. Railway was a shook shook aaja chali aaja chali ja. Now I am shifting the scenario to haridwar itself. Harkipauri was a desolate place at that time and hardly anybody was visible. Dad stayed in sarai that was a makeshift of private house. Dad was not a religious crank so he avoided any bloody panda type chap over there. I remember we were inside the waters at harkipauri with Dad mom and me. it was just like your any five star hotel hardly anybody to bother you. Dad was not a ritualistic either. We stayed at that place for a day and then proceeded to other areas. Laxman jhula was only a make shift bridge hardly significant to eyes. Mom told a little bit of the environment but Dad was always a silent and calm person to reckon with. I remember we visited the down stair waters too just to feel the space you can feel like. There was hardly any person to disturb about . Dad took us to the bhimgoda I feel if I am not failing at memory lane. Sometime I confuse it with bhimtal of nainetal but that is a separate place. It was a river and I could hardly cross it as water was coming to my nose itself. The scenario was too mystic as it could leave a searching engine in my software system. I remember Dad me and mom were standing along the river of some other name and waters were that speedy that there was no scope to interfere in its majestic might but the stream was profusely short in width. I could remember water was as fresh as say any filtered waters of the present day machine. Mom was telling a story line of that place but my brain is unable to recall those eventful days in complete some.
One day I noticed that I was going back to my school at mirzapur.
Love
I am painting a life of say 68-69 . I used to go to school not much earlier but in time most of the time as there was a prayer at the very inception stage and a teacher who was well versed in Hindi and Sanskrit used to say some words after every prayer. I will write a little later on in a more detailed manner. I used to wonder at a teacher whose name was sher singh, I believe he used to come to school from kalawali a nearby town and the rail time made him to reach probably at 7.30 AM or so. He used to sit in the lawn of the school and was often busy at some book and the like. He was an English teacher if I am not failing at my memory lane. English subject used to be a daunting task to speak like on the rustic background which I happened to be. Speaking English was as if doing some biggest possible wonder and a wishful thing only. I remember our Principal whose name could not make a place in my hard disc some time took a few classes as a special occasion to increase the result oriented value of the school. One fine day he gave us a task : write a story in English , class was 8th standard and topic was thirsty crow.
I remember I was having a small booklet in my hand strolling on the roof top of our dhobia wala mohala old house at sirsa. Next morning was the D hrs to speak like. I started my pencil but could not remember even a single bullshit word what I crammed whilst negotiating my steps and nerves put together at the roof top. Bhapi was a beautiful girl at that time but I do not remember I have ever fantasized her beauty . Some how I gathered my strength and could write a few lines only. The principal used to check the task immediately and evaluate too. I can remember he was saying its nice that you have done an original work but since its too short and skeptic you should do a little more.
I have never been a promising or bright student under any reckoning probably I told you. May be my brain was searching you to come.
Love
I am sketching a love of yours some where around Kanpur. I have taken many trains to go there and come back. Generally it was a summer season. But I remember I have been there during winter too. Train journey reminded me of anu and you as I knew kiran will definitely call me at her phone and your and anu nose will never look sane enough. Food was good in Train and I enjoyed it but magazines part I have hardly anything to read about. Hotel was probably of not your standard so my heart told me darling Deepika may not come with you at all, I used to go outside and have some tea and desi bread. It was good. I was thinking to take this desi bread called ban in colloquial language with you at Kanpur. Probably this will serve many purposes one is you will come to me another is peoples may learn how to dispose of the plastics and the wastage at that place I have heard a word in chaste punjabi dheedh but love people of kanpur I feel they are literally beyond that. I was in my middle school when mom used to get early as usual but making roti everyday was a big thing for mom too as school timing were too strict. Sometimes she tasked me to bring bread, I remember a sikh gentle man used to sell bread butter and such items whilst roaming in front of morning facilitated homes/houses so to speak like. I could not understand much at that time.
Now when I see kumar vihwas and kejriwal and team I have some how understood the efforts and patience that sikh gentleman was having. I do not know where is that person as there was no connection to me with that great boy with me at that time too. But love these some advocates who literally suck the blood of the peoples I dont understand how they digest so much blood and with no diseases at all and everyday a bloody seema gulati is born to increase her pond of the flesh.
Anyhow love I wanted to convey you are not behaving well.
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