The Kiss

While everyone was asleep

Once upon a time there were like Pushpak planes.


Not the mythical flying machines from the heaven which came down to take chosen few. No. Real ones.


Before first world patented the invention. But craftsmen of these Pushpak were only survived on the whimsy of few Rajahs. They made these Pushpaks, proving and inventing many theorems. Its just that they thought this as a craft, a magic. Only Rajahs could afford these magic, crafted wth love, in favour of a hefty inaam. But still it was real science and craft.


Slowly with intrusion of British, it became hard to live royally for his/her highness. Also science became popular and didnt remain just as a magical craft. Pushpaks were ignored, found themselves in old dilapidated museums, they were replaced by charters. Rajahs became Sansthaniks, their land became province, and then diluted to make something called Nation. Royal families flew away in their charters to the land of the rulers. And their province was left to some delusional old gold and rude second blood. They still preserved their Pushpaks and myths created around them. Once in their anual royal memorial day they still exhibit and boast about them. Charters' children flew down to click this organised festival in their 50 megapixels 20xs.


A forgotten magician craftsman still prepare these Pushpaks for next festival for the rest 360days. 


I was riding in one of such things.

What's on my head? What's in my head?

A deserted highway dhaba, a night train journey, memory faded.

What's on my head, what's in my head?

A stone of destroyed civilization, a conversation with the dead.

Smoke filled vagina, an uncrumpled bed.

A southern polestar, a rejection lip-shaded.

What's on my head, what's in my head?

An essay on my epitaph, children unbred.

A blood droplet on grass strand, a goodbye never said.

What's on my head, what's in my head?

Citylights on the horizon, innocence of child's question unsaid.

A dream of touching stardust, a curse of immortality casted.

What's on my head, what's in my head?

Sand in the pocket, a wave in the night divided.

Search of meaning in a dictionary, fear of life lying ahead.

A blank moment before banging door, a tear for the victim unrelated.

What's on my head, what's in my head?

(a picture to come later...what's on my head, what's in my head?)

Facebook looks like this

The mermaid and the sea

She was still amused in her world. Finding new caves, new tunnels, new alleys and new abyss. She was more attracted towards the unfathomable abyss. She was floating in one of them. A bright blue-green light was seeping in through her porous skin. Was she moving or was it the water? To make sure she stroked her tail. It was the water. Or maybe it was her mind. The red, the orange, the eyes, the sleeping eyes; through the eyelashes the red veins are opening in his mind. Pulsating blood, pumping heart and the cashew nut creases of the brain.

She was floating in his mind.

She met the memories from the other side; she met people from the past. She met aromas and touches. The softs, aggressive and sharp. His mind couldn’t sleep for years. Every moment of his being was there. Even those he was unaware of, and also those which he was deliberately and desperately buried. The smell of the ink and touch of her.

She got amused by the sea of possibilities and restrictions. The vomits of indigestion and the drugs of the dead were still stale. There were smiles and laughter of tears too. And there was a life in the blood and death in the air. Heart was stopping every moment to welcome death. Lung muscles were flexing to hold the moment of the death, and the mind was eager to go on the ultimate trip.

He also wanted the trip, and then everything transcended.

Everything stopped to wake into the other side. He was dead. And she lost her way out. She was trapped in his dream and figments of his mind.

She was missing her sea, her world. She was just thrown out in this city during the post-mortem. She was lying in the garbage in hospital’s backyard.

There were no magnificent lights emitted from the space, just ugly neon signs and sodium vapors. There was no omnipresent scent of memories just the stench of the dead mouse. She was in the real city, the real city in the real world. And she was no one there, like everybody else. She wanted to dive into the sea where her home was, she tried to stroke her tail, but there was no tail. There were two ugly long sticks with few joints and a fin like structure at the end of it. They were stuck to his waist, like everybody else. She saw around and everybody were standing and moving on those things instead of floating horizontally. They were legs. She also tried to stand, with immense effort, but failed miserably, and fell in the garbage. She was sad, and she felt water on her cheeks, seat water, and salty water. She was shocked, delighted and sad. But her tail was still legs.

After few minutes of effort she learned to balance and walk on her new found legs. Now she wanted to find the sea to dive in. she asked for the direction. It was a long walk, and the sun was breathing fire. She was about to pass out, but her natural defense system was still working. Or was it the water that was seeped into her skin. Wherever she was walking or standing she was leaving behind a trail of sea water behind. Her skin and clothes were wet all the time. She was saved by that.

She found the sea by a circular road. It was like a gallery to see the sea. A half opened shell by the sea shore. She was happy. There was still sea like smell left in those dark waters, she moved ahead. But the smell she smelled was of her nostrils. These waters were ugly and had unbearable stench. This was not the sea, it was a huge puddle. Her home can not be in there. Her home was way bright and beautiful.

She didn’t have anything to dive in. she just sat there till the sun dived into it. The atmosphere of this city, this smell of the city was also diving in through her skin, seeping in slowly. Pores of her skin were very numb by now. The city just seeped in silently. She stood up, turned around and saw the sea she was going to live her mortal life in.

The sea of people. The Mumbai city.

Wasted Years

6:24 PM me: ok, so once a prophet reached till the end of the world, overcoming all the difficulties and -isms, and gaining philosophical knowledge which was more than necessary to spend a lifetime. now, he could actually see the world's end, many memories were flashing in front of his eyes, many people's voice was echoing in his head. He was just few steps away from the edge now, just a step more and he was there.

6:25 PM he could've got the ultimate shaanti, mukti, serenity, qayamat.

6:26 PM he paused for a moment there, he turned around, thought to himself-was there anything I should've done, is there anyhting which I will repent later- he didn't have any answer

6:28 PM He was a wise man, and he has shed greed during his journey. He was not thinking about any indulgence he might have missed, similarly he wasn't greedy to enter the new world either

he wanted that moment to come naturally to him.

6:29 PM but still why this dielemma-Wasn't is what I wanted to achieve?- he asked himself

Yes-was the obvious answer

real: ani mang?

me: he tried to meditate for a while

6:30 PM took a deep breath...he remembered his mother-she was dead now, he doesn't even remember how she died, he knew it by default

6:31 PM too another deep breath, he remembered his little sister, she was married, happily married and indulged into all primary sins, so was the case with his best friend

6:32 PM he knew even they could've paved this path to mukti with them- they had the ability in them

6:33 PM Then? what made them so weak? Weak? do you think you are stronger? isn't it the vanity? are you commiting a sin, at the edge of achieving the un-achievable?

6:34 PM No that was not the case, he tried to reason himself.

6:35 PM Maybe they didn't follow the path becasue they were too caught up in the mundane work, they didn't have time-like me- to delve into the search of finding the truth-they didn't have that drive, and resources to do that..

6:36 PM Oh so you are now Proud that you did what you did, you poor man, they are atleast happy wherever they are, they are rich, have family

6:37 PM and they achieved that by their hardwork--

6:38 PM well, I could've done that too-I remember how I helped them to sort their life's problems, in fact I remember how I helped everybody, and now they all are better settled than me.

--My my you are envious now, huh?

6:39 PM real: ohhh...this is going goooooo...oood..

stupid monks..

:P

me: do you have anyone who would stand by you forever, they are helped and helping others.

6:40 PM unlike you, who only concerned about your own mukti

6:42 PM oh, you know nothing my inner voice, do you know through which pain I've been? do you know how does it feel to be alone, forever. do you know what it takes to avoid any temptations

6:43 PM You just need to sit there, be in hibernated state for all the life, just to wake up suddenly at the wrong moment and advice me

6:44 PM well, my brother I'm YOUR inner voice, as you have mentioned-so now we/You/I have commited two more sins-Wrath and Sloth

real: he has got so many unnessesary qstns man...he is a pseudo meditator...

6:45 PM me: well, just ask yourself, what did you missed in your life, if you don't feel anything you've missed then go on cross the line, attain the mukti

6:47 PM Your answer is expected to be negative, as you've commanded your senses and you have avoided all the sins-you shouldn't have anything you might wanted to try

Ok

said the prophet,

6:48 PM he woke up, was it the real tapsya he wanted to do always?

he didn't know how much years he was there

6:49 PM He still had questions, he still had answers to find

THE END

6:50 PM real: nice one dude..

liked it..

and i got the name for it..

THE WASTED YEARS...

6:51 PM The life is meaning less man.

we just exist because we exist...

there is no meaning or purpose for the existance..

6:53 PM wat u think?

me: yeah

6:54 PM you know what? I ddnt know what i was writing when i started

i just started with one sentence

real: ha ha ha..

shit happens..

:D

6:55 PM me: once a prophet reached the end of the world...that's what i wanted to write

this was total spontaneous and live-i didn't copy-paste it from nowhere

shit

6:56 PM real: i know man..

it was spontaneous and it was true..

no bullshit to the point and nicely narrated..

6:57 PM me: if it's a complement, I'm happy

i think i should post it on my blog

as it is.

6:58 PM real: ya u shd...

Few posters for friends

Tejas Joshi

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Another Call

Boredom is weird thing. Most of the time you can’t come to a logical conclusion of why you are bored; and you are bored to trace any emotional and psychological reasons behind it. Maybe because the reasons of boredom is ‘out of this world’! If we try meticulously then we can conclude that there are many types of boredom-Boredom of meeting people caused by a specific group of people; boredom of doing something, caused by doing something; boredom of moving from a place, caused by moving from places to places. Weird! Cause and effect both are identical. And then there is some serious boredom, which reason we can’t and don’t want to fathom.

Sheela was that kind of bored right now. And she’s been in this stage for few months now. Initially this boredom was transient, it used to house in Sheela’s mind for shorter time, and then she used to find things much exciting than the solace. But now she was stuck in a daily life. She was working now. She is from a middle class city, from a middle class family. But she is working in a bank in Mumbai-a basic nine to five job. She actually wanted such kind of job; because she thought she will get much free time to do the other things. But she didn’t aware of the life in the big city. She has to leave the home 2 hours before her office time and used to come home 2 hours after office. Adding to this she had a comparatively irritating roommate, who was overtly curious in other’s thing and life; plus she has a boyfriend too. Giving time to her boyfriend had become a ritual now. It’s not that there love has dried up, but she wanted something from herself. Not from anyone else, but from herself. And obviously her pursuit of happiness was taking toll on her boyfriend and their relationship. But she thinks that she was right, and all the other people also should find and pursue something different that usual. She can’t define what different and what usual mean.

So one day she decided that she will take some time off in her head, she will reserve a specific volume of brain for her ‘different’ things. But that was not to happen; she got extra work at the office on that day. She thought she will finish that work in record time so she could have time for herself, but for that she will have to open those reserved brain cells and have to put them to work. Fair trade, she thought. But on the same day her boyfriend had plans of going out, and he was audibly upset over the phone because of her absence.

Her target of finishing the work was postponed by two hours, meanwhile. She finished the work, and now there was no point going out just for the sake of it, still she called her boyfriend but he had gone out with his friends, and was drunk. Ok, as it is she didn’t want to go; but she really got upset by this thing. Ok if nobody cares for her, she cares for no one. But the phone rang, it was her mother, asking about her dinner, and overwork, and health. She hung up as fast as she can, of course after answering all the questions.

She came to her flat, after two hours. Her flat was a mess, there was a pizza box lying on the floor, loads of dishes in basin, and her roommate. Her roommate was trying out clothes in front of the mirror. After watching Sheela she shrieked, “We have a party tomorrow in the office, and can I wear your dress?” she has gone through her clothes and found out a perfect dress for her. Sheela nodded. “Which one will suit me?” the roommate shrieked again. But Sheela didn’t answer; instead she went in the bedroom and crashed in the bed.

What the heck, she had decided to live on her own terms, but nothing is going right. She decided it will not go for long; she will take some time off. She will pack her bags and will hit the road, RIGHT NOW!!

She pulled her sack from the wardrobe; her clothes were already out of the wardrobe. She packed some clothes she bought to wear on an outing but didn’t get any chance. She threw in sunscreen lotion, toothpaste, mobile charger, comb, shampoo bottle, soap, paper napkins, water bottle, water purifier, coffee pouches, magi packets, mug, and yawn! She was ready to go now. Yes she was ready to go NOW! Yawn! She thought if she leaves now, she will get no commute; she will reach at odd place at odd time. So why not leave tomorrow morning, very early morning, she reminded herself. And it’s better to go to hibernate state, so when she will wake up tomorrow she will be back on the same excitement level as of now. Early morning!!!!

Early morning, and she has left the house. It was really early morning, it was still dark and there was no sign of sunrise. She was standing on the bus stop. She checked the money in her wallet. She was feeling so stupid, she had decided to take where the wind takes her, and she was standing on the bus stop. Ok. She thought she will go to the nearest highway and then find a bus. She took an auto-rickshaw and got down near Mumbai Goa highway. Goa, her mind said subconsciously, it was the ultimate and most popular place for very popular adventure lovers.

She thought she will take the first bus going anywhere, but she left one bus going in the other direction. Finally she got a bus going south. She was feeling so proud of herself when she told the conductor to give her ONE ticket for the LAST STOP! She was enjoying the cool breeze of her independence, coming from the shuddering window. Finally she was proving her point. She was smiling continuously and enjoying the strange gazes by the strangers. She decided to remain happy. “Arrey close the window, the wind is so cold!” an old lady from the backside yelled from her muffler covered mouth. It was not that cold, Sheela thought, but she wants to be happy. So she closed the window.

After an hour the sun’s light became white and it was warm. The old lady from the backseat, now, said affectionately, “you can open the window now beta, I am a bit sick and can’t tolerate cold air. Where are you going?” “It’s OK Aaji; I’m going where the bus is going!” She is so smart, and her ‘different’ juices seem to be flowing out now! Soon they both got talking. The old lady is from a small town in konkan, and she has come to attend a wedding, she was accompanied by her granddaughter. “Do you have seashore in your village?” Sheela who has never been in a sea, asked. “Yes, you should come in our gaon, and particularly in this season, its mango season now. Get down with us!” Aaji said jokingly, and she got unexpected affirmative reply from Sheela! Sheela then tried to explain how she has no particular destination to go, and she wants to chill out a little, etc. But now Aaji was little hostile, how she can really take a stranger girl to her home. But Sheela assured her that she will not be a bojh on her or her family member, she will find her arrangement to reside. Aaji was still uncomfortable with this mentality of a young girl, she nodded confusingly.

So they got down at a town. Here onwards, they will have to travel by a tumtum to aaji’s village. Aaji’s daughter was super excited with Sheela coming to their home, and was chattering consistently. Sheela paid for her own fare. Aaji met other people from their village in the tumtum. It seems everybody knows everybody here. Aaji introduced Sheela to everyone as her guest. They got down near the main bazaar of the village. Sheela was so excited and happy. The sound and smell of this bazaar was way different than Mumbai’s crowd. It smelt fresh fishes, fresh vegetables, and fresh MANGOES! Sheela took the kid, aaji’s granddaughter, with her and bought a variety of mango that are sucked. Sheela remembered the days when she was a kid. She used to open these mangoes and the juices used to flow along her arms on her clothes and all over her face. She was eating the mango in the same style now, shedding all the inhibitions of a city girl. She wants to go to the beach. She asked Aaji the address of her house and way to the beach. She said she will come to aaji’s place in the afternoon.

She was almost running towards the beach, holding a mango in one hand, and the other hand supporting her sack. First she smelled the salty sea air, without a hint of staleness, and then she heard the roaring sound of sea. Her heart was pouncing in her chest; she was not been so much excited in a long time. It was awesome. Yellow fine sand was everywhere in that town. People were so happy, clean and tidy, they were looking curiously at this girl in 3/4^th Capri, loose T-shirt and colourful bag, running waywardly. There was a small jungle of bigger shrubs. Sheela was sure she will find sea on the other side of it. She increased her speed, the sound of sea was increasing, and a turn and she will find the sea. But she stopped, she was breathing hastily. She thought of her life, the things she wanted to do, her journey from the morning, it was still morning and she was nearer to herself. She didn’t know she will find herself so near! She turned back, looked at the distant roofs of the town, looked up in the blue sky, breathed deeply; she could taste the sand through her nostrils. She started walking backwards, towards the sea, she was guided by the breeze, and the hands of the sea were guiding her. It was silent, very silent, only the enormous sound of the waves, calling her name. She knew she is on the beach now. She closed her eyes in joy, her heart beats slowed down, she was breathing inconsistently. Her heart almost stopped beating, and then she turned around, the sound of the sea panned from left to right and right to left. She opened her eyes. Everything vanished, Sheela herself vanished.

And she started running towards the sea, the waves were signalling her to come in. She took off her bag, her sandals, and she shot in the sea. The sudden soft resistance of the waves, she was not prepared for this and she fell in. She was laughing out loud. The waves were like her long lost friends, they were happy to find her between themselves too. She went deep, she wasn’t afraid of the water; she was a good swimmer, though it’s her first encounter with the sea. In Mumbai she used to hate the black ugly sea. But this was a different sea, pure, warm hearted, blue! She felt the real love, pure love, without the name of any relation. Just Love!

She wanted to go in, inside the sea, deep. She looked around and found 2-3 stray boats on the shore. She got out, took her things, and went there. A young koli was looking at her for a long time. Sheela was overwhelmed and exhausted by now, but still was excited. The young koli smiled at her brightly. “Are you going in? Can you take me in to the sea?” Sheela requested. “This is not a tourist boat Tai” the koli explained. “I’m not a tourist, I’m a wanderer. Just take me with you, I can pay you.” Sheela really wanted to go in. “But I will come back late in the after noon.” “That’s OK” “let me ask kaka” There was an old kaka sitting in another boat. He said it’s a bad omen to take a lady on a boat when you are going for a business, to catch fish. Young koli argued with him for a while.

He came back to Sheela. “Kaka will not like it, but you can come if you want.” The young koli said and extended his hand for support. Sheela was jumping up and down and got on board. The koli pushed his boat in the sea. It was a small wooden boat, with no shelter. A white nylon net was lying in the front half of the boat. Sheela was sitting in the middle. Sheela was curious about koli’s daily life. The koli was explaining the technique of catching fish and types of fish. Sheela was trying to know the harm the fishing cause to the environment; she was an environment conscious city girl! But she dropped the topic; she was here to get to know herself. She came to know quite a few things about herself. They have come quite a distance now; the koli was busy in setting the net for catching fish. The land was too far. Sheela looked towards the bare chest koli; she was a young beautiful girl away from the shore with a stranger. Koli looked back at him, smiled broadly. Sheela remembered he called her Tai- elder sister. The sea was cleaner and calm here, there was no signs of waves.

Sheela was playing with the water. She wanted to get in the deep blue water. She asked koli, “dada can I dive inside? I can swim.” Koli asked her to dive in the opposite side as he has lain net in this side, and asked to be aware of the net. Sheela was pleased. She took off her bag; put her wallet in the bag. And was ready to dive in, getting in to the deep, caring sea. She believed she will find something more about herself in the sea, every time the sea gives you something. She removed her sandals. She sat on the edge of the boat turning her back to the sea, took a deep breath and left the edge of the boat, falling backwards...

The last thing before splashing in the water she realized was her phone ringing in her pocket, she had forgotten to keep it in the bag. And SPLASH!!!

It was her boyfriend was calling; the phone sank into the water. He heard, “The person you are trying to reach is busy on another CALL!!!!!”

Why don't we want Sania Mirza to be happy!?

I got a SMS this morning from a friend (?), a hate message about Sania Mirza getting married to Shoaib Malik. That friend is a decent guy on the onset, he talks formally and lovingly to every one, he really cares for his friend, and a good friend overall. But the message got me disturbed, it has attacked Sania and Shoaib in very indecent language and it has asked me to forward the message to all the Indians! Why? If I hate the sentiments expressed in the message then as per the holy book of Indianness I am not a true Indian? I like Sania, her game, her beauty, and the way she makes our India proud. But why she is attacked by these moral police-boons? They critiqued her because she wears skirts while playing, in fact if skirts are indecent then dhotis are equally indecent! Why hate fellow Indians and then conceal the hatred under the tricolour of India? Why we hate Sania Mirza, one reason is definitely because she is a Muslim. And hating Muslim is one of the commandments of being an Indian, I guess. We swore by the sahishnuta of the greater religion of India- the Hindu. But I think the other religions, called as minority, have more sahishnuta than these Hindus; rather they have no other choice to live in India. I know that there is instability in every religion, and we can’t single out a religion for propagating hatred towards others. But let’s not mix religion with nationality; India is not a Hindu nation, as far as I know. Hindu fundamentalist can’t form definitions of ‘True Indians’. If they want to, then obviously I don’t fit the bill and I have no other choice than hating (again) these Indians.

We Indians carry this application form when we move on streets, when we have chance at making friends, when we are asked to support a cause, when we support our cricket team (or for that matter the IPL team). The application forms has columns for name, the full name, actually most importantly your last name, the place of your birth and upbringing, your religion, your cast, creed and so on. When I meet anyone for the first time I have to fill this form and have to ‘apply’ for their friendship or acquaintance.

And I answer those questions. “Name?” “Tejas” “NAME?” “Oh...Tejas Joshi” “ohh Brahmin, which subcaste?” “Does it matter? OK, koknastha” “hmm bloody koknastha, huh? Gotra?” “I don’t know” “What do you mean you don’t know” I shrug. “Ok Where is you from?” “Nashik” “OK so you are Marathi, a Raj Thackeray supporter, huh?” OR “Ok so do you know this guy, I’m sorry but all the Nashik-kar I came across are like this and that” “Well, I’m not” and so on, (though the order of question changes and few questions are added or omitted based on the kindness of the person) at the end of it they make a decision based on their presumptions, but me? I’m still confused; I don’t know whether he is a friend! I’m such a non-Indian, I guess, what a pity?

Why? Why I should carry my identity card with me always, why can’t I communicate in a natural way, like the dogs do, (well they also do piss and sniff!)

Well, I think there is something wrong with the Indian-ness. It’s still a vague concept for us. May be because we didn’t earn the Independence of India, and by ‘we’ I don’t mean our generation, I really mean WE, THE INDIANS. Before the British captured India slowly using their skills and technique, we didn’t have the sense of nationality, we were either living under Maratha regime, nizaamshahi, aadilshahi and others, right from the Mauryas and other dynasties. We had an idea of regionalism, and had ambitions of expanding our regime, we were extremely brave too, but we were not Indians. British captured and ruled this region called Indian subcontinent of Asia, and governed it for 150 years or so. Slowly we got restless living under the raj, we were against the slavery, and wanted our land back, and now as the land was expanded from now Pakistan to now Bangladesh, our krantikaris fought against the British Raj in capturing back this piece of land, now was being called India. British didn’t have captured India, but we got India from them. Wow! Our krantikaris were really genuine and brave guys I don’t doubt them but nationalism or Indian nationalism is a modern and alien concept for us. We are still regionalist people at heart; we still divide based on caste. Creed, religion and region, that’s the problem I guess, I think if British wouldn’t have came we would be a bunch of small countries like Europe or Africa or like the countries those were part of U.S.S.R. but now not the part of Russia.

And while getting the independence for India, Pakistan and Bangladesh we had to suffer from the bad partition, which might have fuelled the hatred against Indian Muslims, and Pakistani Hindus and Sikhs.

We did earn Independence by our sweat and blood. But the masses need someone to follow after. In the independence war not every slave of British Raj wanted independence at his heart, but they believed their leaders and a huge (I think the biggest) movement of Independence arose. We believed in Bhagatsingh, we believed in Chandrashekhar Azaad, we believed Savarkar, we believed in Mangal Pandey (no no we didn’t believe him!) well but we believed our modern leaders like Mahatma Gandhi, and Pt. Jawahrlal Nehru, and Sardar Patel. And now we are getting a new breed of leaders that are again posing to stand against the big bad governance of India, and these leaders are Shriram Sene, Bajrang Dal, Shivsena, Maharashtra Navnirman Sena, and VHP etc. Not all but a major chunk of our society believes in them. I know because this morning I got a SMS. We still hate Indian Muslims more than Pakistanis. I know many literate and cultured people who just hate Muslims from the end of their neurons just because they are Muslims. One of my colleague actually said that he knows a guy who’s really warm hearted and very kind person but he hated him because he has married to his own sister, and believes that all the Muslims are like that. Strange. Scientist has found that all the mankind has evolved from seven mothers; our mankind can be traced back to seven women. And to reach to today’s population of over 600 crores we can’t state, that no cultured society hasn’t cross bred in their own family. In fact in the prehistorian era cross breeding in the family had to be a normal thing to expand and strengthen their group.

Well ironically I got another SMS from the same friend again praising Sai Baba, and again the message asked me to forward the message to all true Sai devotees, and the people who love Sai Baba!(fortunately I don’t love any baba other than my baba(father)!) As far as I know Sai Baba is praised and loved equally by Hindus and Muslims. (Well this message was also carried a hidden discrimination towards non-Sai devotees.)

Well as far as I am concerned, my definition of being Indian is getting happy with the genuine happiness of fellow humans/Indians. And I’m happy that Sania and shoaib are happy together, I guess. (Though I’m sad that heartthrob of our generation is getting married!)

Well if you come across any such message, think and answer them with your true sentiments, do not forward answers. We can do this much in respect of the free mobile technology we got!