Monday, February 11, 2013

The error

It was one of those rainy afternoons when the whiteness blinds your vision. Being one of those hapless individuals who did not understand heavyweight phrases like 'paradigm shift', he did not really feel like working on a stormy afternoon.

He kept on checking the time at the bottom right of his Dell Latitude. It was still half an hour before he would be able to leave work. He stood up from the chair, visibly impatient, and he paced up and down the corridor next to the window, keeping an eye on his manager's door. If only he could feel the rain...

He knew that the outside was not going to be as cosy as inside the office. However, he also knew that once he was through with that tedious drive back to the hotel, he would be warm and smug once again. Sighing, he walked towards the coffee machine.

His cellphone beeped once. Was it her?

Yes, It was her message. She had texted him finally. She wanted them to be back together once more.

His dead eyes lit up with a fire that he had almost forgotten. His expression was indecipherable. He read the message again. And again. His mind raced back to the incident from a couple of weeks back.

***

The argument had broken out over a petty issue, as usual. It had all started over TV channels, and they had a fight over the possession of the remote control. During the early days of their relationship, such matters would have definitely led to a few hours of passion. After four years of living together, fights were always fights the way eggs never turned out to be hammers.

The argument had turned bitter - more bitter than orange peel soaked in concentrated quinine for hours - and had almost reached the verge of violence. That was when he had decided to pack his bags and leave; he had half-wished that she would stop him, but she did not.

He left. He did not forget to slam the door hard - hard enough for her to hear. It was a miracle that the neighbour next door did not come out to check what the fuss was about. It was another thing that the neighbour was deaf.

He had checked into a hotel. The distance had torn apart his soul and induced a crave in his body he had not felt for four years. However, the worst bit was the fact that the hotel provided with Promise toothpastes - a taste that he clearly detested: he typically settled for nothing less than Amway Glister, and she was the only Amway agent he had known. Maybe he should have packed more patiently.

***

A familiar sound diverted his thoughts. His colleagues were packing up. Yes, it was indeed six now, and he could leave. He was more impatient than ever. He rushed back to his cubicle, packed his Dell Latitude, and stormed towards the basement.

It was still raining. It was ice-cold. But he would not have to return the hotel room today with photograph of the innocuous-looking zebra on the baby-pink wall. He would come back and check out tomorrow.

Today, he had a home to go to. He had something to look forward to tonight. His dreary existence over the last two weeks, as eventful as a Manmohan Singh speech, had now come to an end.

He finally felt something. The calm assurance of having a place he could call home. The frenzy of lust. And more, lots more. He knew exactly what he was going to do, and the thrill made his palms sweat even in the chill.

As he drove out of the basement, the Kolkata monsoon hit him hard. Raindrops sploshed against the windscreen so hard that for a while it seemed that the glass would crack from the impact. He still drove on amidst zero visibility, completely aware of the risk but impatient to reach her.

He was somewhat scared, but the thrill of imminent danger brought back the adventurous self that years of Powerpoint presentations had sucked out of him so efficiently. He tore across the Eastern Metropolitan Bypass at breakneck speed, dangerously silhouettes of cars dangerously, impatient to be back home.

Home. It is funny how some people often tend to forget what the word exactly means. Or rather, how important it can be. He sighed at his own folly.

As the car halted just after nightfall at a traffic signal, he took his cellphone out and read the message again. No, he had not read it wrong. His impatience rose.

***

He walked out of his car as he reached home safely. The ceaseless rain hit his bare cheeks like shards of glass as he rushed into the building. His soaked, cold fingers fumbled on the button outside the elevator. He was not one of those men who thought that pressing the button multiple times would make the elevator accelerate, but he was really impatient today.

He turned the key in the latch. As he opened the door, he heard footsteps: she had come up to the door to greet him. Water dripped from his stylized hair; his deep, now hungry eyes were red behind his wire-rimmed glasses; his white, now almost translucent shirt clung to his torso, making him as desirable a Greek God.

She smiled at him and let her nightgown drop to the floor. She was wearing a skimpy, black negligee that was clearly new; he guessed it had been purchased specially for the occasion. He reciprocated her smile with a look that reflected the burning lust somewhere deep inside him.

She knew that look of his. She knew he was hers - as he had always been.

Within moments they were on each other. His cold fingers found her warm flesh, making her moan in ecstasy. He immersed his famished lips in her softness; she melted in his firmly built arms. Then, regaining her composure, she ripped his shirt apart. He could vaguely hear sounds of his buttons flying to various corners of the room.

He was not distracted, though. His frantic, restless grip made her go weak in her knees. She welcomed him on the floor. They did not care that the door was left ajar. He tried to close the door with his legs, but did not find it, and did not bother in the end. The cold marble floor could not be a hindrance to their impatient nakedness.

It was all flesh from there on. It was oblivion.

***

After a couple of hours - but what seemed like a couple of minutes to them - he pulled himself away from her and lay on his back, staring at her bare back at the mirror on the ceiling. She probably wanted him to hold her, but he did not.

His insides churned. He had not realized how hungry he had been all this while. He mumbled a couple of words, got up, closed the door, and walked towards the kitchen. She lay still on the floor, feeling the marble numb her cheeks with its icy touch, listening to the incessant rain against the French window.

There was the unmistakable sound of a refrigerator being rummaged through - and then, after a couple of minutes, the familiar ting of the microwave oven. She knew he would be back. She remembered how she loved to see him gobble down food on his return from work every day. She sighed.

She could hear him putting down the plate in the sink. She knew he would invariably turn the tap on and let the water accumulate on the plate. She had often laughed at his habit of doing the dishes immediately after the meal. She used to make fun of him. It was obsessive compulsive disorder, she used to say.

She could hear his footsteps now. She felt the familiar butterflies in her stomach. This was like in their early days - when they were still exploring each other's bodies - when with every session she found out what he smelled like, tasted like, felt like.

She knew he would resume. They would take the passion deep into the night, maybe till daybreak. Maybe even beyond that.

He was upon her. And then - without any warning - he plunged the steak knife into her bare back - once, twice, thrice with a venom she had no idea that he was capable of. She did not have any time to react. The blows had pierced her heart and lungs, and she died almost instantaneously, gargling blood.

"Bitch", he murmured under his breath, his hands still warm with her warm, fresh blood. He moved to the sink again to wash.

Then, with his fist clenched and his jaws hardened, he reached out for his trousers and took out his cellphone. He read the text she had sent that afternoon - the one that had made him rush to the apartment he hated to call home now.

He read it again. There was no mistake.

"Your all I have. I don't want to loose you."

176 comments:

  1. You'll understand my sentiments when I say that irrespective of his slump in form, I'd drop Gautam Gambhir for his use of atrocious English in tweeting as described in this story :).

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks for bringing the story to my notice. Now that I've read it, I completely concur.

      Delete
  2. Loved, Sex and Syntax error!! Wish I could have butchered a few! :( :(

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  3. So this guy kills her coz she cudn't spell right?
    At least she got sm b4 being bumped off.
    I've noticed ppl hav short fuse nowadays.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. i thnk uve got d stry and i gss uve lvd it snc uve rd it till d end

      tx it fls gr8

      Delete
    2. Bahahahaha. @Anonymous- y u anonymous? y u, wid d longest fuse ever, not show ur name/email? V hv much 2 learn frm u!

      Delete
    3. der r many anon cmns on my blg, i dunno y.......lolzzzzzz...

      Delete

  4. But why the man in your story uses the woman before he kills her? Could have gifted her a dictionary and wren and martin instead.

    ReplyDelete
  5. I bet he would not have killed a maid for syntactical errors.You see,maids are hard to come by.One would tolerate,lovingly,their broken english, cockney english to no english at all.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I know what you mean. I really do. Ah, the nuances of urban middle-class life...

      Delete
    2. @ Anonymous
      You mean to say that true love can only happen with a maid? ;)

      Delete
    3. I guess so. Wives can come and go, but once a maid goes...

      Delete
    4. Most men i know see their wife a maid.

      Delete
    5. It works the other way as well. A lot of women see their husbands as servants.

      Delete
  6. brilliant... and a justified bloody outcome!

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  7. Am i the only one here who did not like the ending?
    The shoking end is usually predictable now in your stories ovibabu.

    ReplyDelete
  8. One blasphemy erased by another!

    ReplyDelete
  9. Excellent! From another comrade clearing up the mess an apostrophe at a time, I high-five thee!

    I was reminded of the time when we had much fun on FB after I posted a mini-story where "your/you're" and "its/it's" kills a romance at the bud. And the funny thing was that most people were fixated on the storyline and completely failed to notice that the "errors" were the main characters :-)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, I clearly remember that. I mean, the discussions were so pointless that we had to resort to a laugh in private.

      Delete
  10. Love you or hate you,I just can't ignore you.
    This one i liked.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you. As an author (read blogger) I have always preferred being hated than being ignored.

      Delete
  11. He took his own life when he realized it was autocorrect at work that fateful rainy day.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Ah, don't tempt me into a sequel...

      Delete
    2. Absolutely love this suggestion. Urging you to write a conclusion. :P Please. Pretty please.

      Delete
    3. Supercalifragilisticexpialodocious, I let you to choose between the two sequel ideas mentioned in the comments.

      Delete
  12. Bechari! Aage janle English'ta sincerely porto...... it's a very engaging read though

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Na pora is not the issue. Na jeneo lekha is the issue.

      Delete
  13. "Red hungry eyes, wet white shirt clinging to the torso, firmly build arms, icy marble numbing her"... Is it coincidence or you just know my story?
    Never mind. That's just my thinking, aloud.

    As for the post, and its end, well done. You are such a stunner!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you. Since you prefer to remain anonymous, I cannot really tell whether I do know your story.

      Delete
  14. you are giving me ideas, OV-da. i notice that the post is tagged as "fiction". the truth might end up being "stronger" :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. If you indeed end up taking the idea, leave a note that I should not be held responsible. Phew!

      Delete
  15. I was all exited about the ending (and so, truly, was she!)

    Deepa.

    ReplyDelete
  16. Replies
    1. Yes, a taxing syn - if that's what you want to say.

      Delete
  17. Interesting read!! The twist was expected, more because I read the comments in Facebook before reading this! :-(

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. This is why I do not want people to comment on Facebook. :(

      Delete
  18. Why be so hard on people who do not know/use proper english? We own the colonial language and take desired liberties with it,rather than have it own us.
    Come to think of it Abhishek,your hindi-our national language-is not great either.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The point is not knowledge. I do not have a thing against people weak in English. Anyone can be. My Hindi is awful, my Chinese, worse, and I'm not really proud of it. I avoid communicating in Hindi, and I avoid communicating in Chinese even more.

      I have an issue, though, against people who, despite being weak in a language, try to show off that they're good at it. Worse, they tend to mock at people who write proper English.

      Delete
    2. I would like to add a small clarification. Hindi, is one of the official languages of India, the other being English. Hindi is not our national language. India doesn't have one. This is a common misconception.

      Delete
    3. Thank you. I was not aware of this. It does not change my response, though.

      Delete
  19. Was it the first or the second or were both necessary for the result? I have not seen the first one very much, but the second one is so rampant these days and it always gets on my nerves.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Both. Lose/loose is worse than your/you're, though - it drives me insane. The other one that infuriates me is its/it's.

      Delete
  20. The man then had STD ;-)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That's the second sequel idea I had in a few hours. Keep them coming. :D

      Delete
  21. Now one can only hope this was not inspired by your real life.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. In reality I'm a remarkably harmless and docile creature. And innocent to boot.

      Delete
    2. ... who shudders at the thought of killing a fly.

      Delete
    3. ...but whoeats chicken!

      Delete
    4. ... with an innocent, docile, harmless face. :)

      Delete
  22. honestly, i didnt like it! if at all i know your type....this one is definitely not the one! :-/

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Ah, I suppose I could make you dislike (and hate) the story the way I wanted to.

      Delete
  23. Well, I suppose our Dell latitude guy is an editor and not a techie as I'd thought, after all :) There are only so many yours and looses that can be humanly corrected!
    (Eeks, reminds me to return to my editing. Alas!)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The "its"-"it's" one as well! Don't forget that one!!

      Delete
  24. Note to slf: Nxt tme simply read d ending.Saves time.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Can't help,your posts raise such a stink.
      The middle was all 'steam'y anyway.

      Delete
    2. Sigh. I guess I'd need mothballs to protect your nose. Just when I thought I had done away with the stench. :(

      Delete
    3. No offence.Long posts rather test patience than help build suspense.

      Delete
    4. To each his own. I think the length was just about fine.

      Delete
  25. Replies
    1. Hmm. Or bou onek toothpaste er stock rekhe gechhilo. Ogulo phurote phurote o aro agent dhore phelbe.

      Delete
  26. All that hullabulla over a 'lose' comment. Well written. Story me kya twist hai.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, she did 'loose' her life because of a 'lose' comment.

      Delete
  27. Two things:
    1. It seems that your short stories are in the verge of been translated into movies in a very near future. In that case, I want a role.
    2. It seems that your short stories are in the verge of been translated into movies in a very near future. In that case, I want a roll (preferably egg-chicken, without sauce, loads of shawsha-peyaj).

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I think the movie bit was a joke, so we do not need to dwell on that.

      As for the role and the roll, let us see how we can work on that.

      Delete
  28. What an ending! This story is almost as macabre as most of the memorable stories penned by Roald Dahl! :D

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That's a huge complement, Ms Basu Roy. Thank you.

      Delete
    2. Gah. Complement or Compliment?

      Delete
  29. Aager comment-taay naam ditey bhule gelaam. :|

    Comment-gulo porey-torey mone holo, ki bhagyish aami lokejon-er comment-e chokh rakhbaar aagei golpo-taa pore felechhi.

    -Jhinka.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Ebar aro confuse korli. Tui Jhinka na Shiri Basu Roy?

      Ar hmm, amio bhebechhilam commentgulo publish korbona, jonota pore phelar age. Jakge, bhaloi hoyechhe.

      Delete
  30. Shiri was my nickname once, which didn't stick around for long! And Basu Roy was my mother's title.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Okay, so now I have to juggle with three names instead of two. Sigh.

      Delete
  31. I still think it was the promise toothpaste and not the sms.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It might have been. Promise toothpastes can make you do a lot of funny things.

      Delete
  32. Wow... awesome story. I knew something macabre was about to happen, but didn't get the motive.
    To the people above, who have expressed criticisms behind the reason that set the murderer off, relax it's just a story. Secondly, behind the author's motivation for writing this story, lies a sense of deep frustration. Not knowing a language is okay, and using it in the process of learning how to use it is even more okay. I live in a multi-cultural city, and come from an even more diverse one. When people don't speak English fluently and are in the process of learning it, they make it a point to "nt spk/type like dis" and pay attention to similar sounding words. Furthermore when they are corrected they don't brush it off, rather, they are grateful to the person for helping them learn. On the other hand, the people who have been taught English, who have gone to English medium schools in India screw up the language simply to sound cool. THAT IS POSSIBLY THE MOST IRRITATING THING EVER. I know, from experience that schools make an effort to teach the difference between similar sounding words ie(They're, Their,There) (its and it's)(lose and loose). When people don't pay attention to what it is that they are using they do it out of pure disregard for the language, and because they simply don't care. This is not just about English, but it is about any language. If I am going to write in Hindi, (which I definitely should not) I absolutely should pay attention to certain words while writing them, or I should be open to being corrected. GAH. Abhishek da I feel your pain. If my cousin in India sends me "1 mre txt to c how i m doin" I will blow a gasket.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks for the support, Rini. Really means a lot.

      Also, thank you for reminding me of the existence of the word 'gasket'.

      Delete
    2. awh shucks...how can this rant, or for that matter any rant of mine mean a lot to anyone? :P BLOWING A GASKET!? I use it all the time, because it happens ALL the time! :D Mind you I have no idea about what a gasket is and how it gets blown, so maybe I use it wrong.

      Delete
    3. Rants and gaskets rule big time. Big time.

      Delete
  33. You come up with great posts.Your family is lucky to have such a witty and imaginative man at their disposal.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you. Just don't go overboard with the nice words.

      Delete
    2. With posts like this,you should get used to it.
      God Bless.

      Delete
    3. Let your mouth be smeared with ghee and sugar.

      Delete
    4. Hark what you wish for! Diabetes.
      Please continue writing.You have some mean talent.

      Delete
    5. Thank you. I have some median and mode talents as well.

      Delete
  34. I have two things to say. First, this story reminded me of Shibram's bhooter golpo, the one in which the driverless car was being pushed up the slope by the driver. :D Couldn't help it. It just had about that much irony and mirth coefficient for me.

    Second, whoever thinks mutilating a language merely for sounding cool and dashing is a good idea, should really die a thousand deaths. My anger is directed towards people who know English perfectly well, yet willfully choose to twist, mutilate and warp it into "da kulest frm f cmmnicn." Pretty strong statement, just like the way I feel about the mutilation.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. @Supercalif...
      Elisions and contractions are not an acceptable part of formal language but have always been used as such.Language evolves,is evolving and is always in a state of flux.Truncation is just a part of it.What's more,even meanings change over time.Make peace with that.

      Delete
    2. This is NOT evolution. This is homicide.

      Delete
    3. Ah,what is poison for one is bread for another.

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    4. Yes, I suppose. That's the way the world runs.

      Delete
  35. Thank you, SuperCaligula or whatever. Thank you for the support. Also, comparisons with Shibram are a huge morale-booster.

    I agree that we're getting too lenient on the pseudo-English. Maybe it's time to actually DO something. :)

    PS: I love strong statements.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. A rabbit like you shouldn't be a grammar Nazi

      Delete
    2. Why on earth should I be a rabbit? And what on earth should keep rabbits away from being Grammar Nazis?

      Delete
  36. http://bluecrabboulevard.com/2007/02/09/nazi-rabbits/

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you. I feel enlightened. But I still do not get the relevance. I was not called a 'Nazi rabbit'. I was called a 'rabbit' who should not have been a 'Grammar Nazi'.

      Delete
    2. 1) you are not a human.You are a rabbit.
      2) Nazis were humans.
      Conc: You should not try to be a Nazi rabbit.

      Delete
    3. humans know grammar.Rabbits do not-refer to the Little Prince

      Delete
    4. 2 is a flawed statement. So is 1, but I would abstain from commenting on that.

      But the most important aspect here is that I have no intention to become a Nazi rabbit. I never had any intention whatsoever to be one.

      Delete
    5. Grammar? Rabbits? Little Prince? Where did the Nazi bit go? I'm completely lost.

      Delete
  37. nice build up and unexpected end. But that last line does induce a chuckle :)

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    Replies
    1. It's always nice to get a comment from SRK. I'm honoured. And I'm thankful that the last line made you chuckle, as opposed to branding me as a sick masochist.

      Delete
  38. very unexpected.great twist.
    you should get rid of your Dell Latitude .
    NOW.
    :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you. But... hang on, how do you know I have a Dell Latitude? What gave it away?

      Delete
    2. Relax... I am not stalking u or anything...just assumed that such violence must be getting triggered by your Dell Latitude like your protagonist...thats all.

      Delete
    3. Thank goodness. You almost gave me a heart-attack. That was brilliant detection on your part. I'm impressed. Even floored.

      Delete
    4. Our poor ovibabu..hehe

      Delete
    5. Are you afraid of people stalking you?
      I understand you're unsocial in real life but virtual stalking is frightening as well? Now how!

      Delete
    6. The thought of being important enough to be stalked intimidates me.

      Delete
    7. dont worry...i think only the likes of Fardeen Khan shd worry about being stalked ...definitely not you :) :)

      Delete
    8. Thank goodness. However, I was under the impression that I was the only one who stalks my hero.

      Delete
  39. I like 'The Other' story better.
    Thought i should just throw in a word.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for letting me know. It will be really nice if you keep on providing me with honest feedback like this on a consistent basis.

      Delete
  40. Aha!!! A severe case of Grammar Nazi-ism I see!! :-) ... good one!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you. Grammar Nazi-ism is one of the ways to attain Nirvana, you see. :)

      Delete
  41. Hi,
    I came across this blog last night and read all the posts till morning.What a menagerie you have here! Looks like you are a multifaceted personality with a fired up imagination
    What do you consider your forte in writing?

    ~Anusha.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks Anusha. It took me some time to figure out that you have actually complimented me!

      As for my forte, I guess it's humour. I'm not very sure, though.

      Delete
  42. How many masks do you wear my sensitive man?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I am not sensitive. I do not wear masks either. I suppose you've got the wrong Abhishek.

      Delete
  43. very poor story. You should try better. Ignore my comment on the February in kolkata one.
    You have writtent for the sake of writing.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Once again, thank you for your honest feedback (I am not saying that the others weren't honest, though!).

      I wish you keep criticizing me in future as well. Additionally, I'd really like you to point out exactly where the story could have improved.

      Delete
    2. my job is not to criticize. That was an honest feedback. The motive for the murder is very weak. Rest was good.

      Delete
    3. Some others have mentioned that the murder was quite justified. To each his own, I presume. One cannot please everyone.

      Delete
    4. Are you trying to please people with your writings and have some friends/relatives ooh aahing on your writing? Please do not get defensive as i said that it was an honest opinion and nothing more. Hope you do better.

      Delete
    5. No. My friends and relatives are my most dangerous critics. As mentioned above, please keep on sending honest, unbiased opinions: it will help me.

      Delete
  44. When is the next post due?

    ReplyDelete
  45. Few questions here.Please answer.

    1) How happy or sad does a comment make you?
    2) Does it really matter if the comment is from a man or a woman?
    3) How attached are you to this blog.Will you go as far as to call it your other child?
    4) Would you insist that the commenter takes a name even if he be literally anonymous? If so,why?
    5) How many books do you read in a month? And if your imagination always catches up with your life.
    6) Which post will you rate as your best till date?
    7) Do you cook?

    Thank you.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. 1) Comments always make me happy. If they praise me, I feel elated. If they criticize me, I learn a thing or two, and I feel enlightened.
      2) No.
      3) Not another child, but very close to it. It's my creation, you see.
      4) Yes. Identities rock. They're cool.
      5) Depends on how much I'm busy and the pace and thickness of the book. On an average, four to five.
      6) This is a really tough one. Seriously tough. I will get back to you on this.
      7) Not if I am forced to. I can survive based on my culinary skills, though.

      Delete
  46. Roses are Red,
    Violets are Blue,
    O my Ovi,
    I love you.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Who is this Ovi person? I've heard of Nokia Ovi.

      Delete
  47. Long time no write...
    Did u really throw away your Dell latitude????!!! :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That's what you wanted, didn't you? :(

      Delete
    2. @ Sharmistha-
      Our Ovibabu has taken a leaf from Greatbong.The first person who comments on his next post will get his Dell Latitute.

      Delete
    3. Yes. An autographed version, to boot. With a golden marker and all.

      Delete
    4. With your finger or a mouse?

      Delete
    5. Neither. With a marker, as I have mentioned.

      Delete
  48. Few Questions.Please answer.
    1) Your favourite animal.
    2) Your favourite bird.
    3) The day you cried the most.
    4) The day you laughed the most.
    5) You're best and worst at?
    6) You were very shy when in school.Why?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Please email me if you're really keen on these animals.

      Delete
    2. Okay,Leave the animals.Tell me the rest.

      Delete
    3. Okay.Will mail the Questions.

      Delete
    4. Yes,I have six of them.

      Delete
    5. What about the nth Question?

      Delete
  49. <3. <3..<3...<3.

    ReplyDelete
  50. Chetan Bhagat! Watch out!

    ReplyDelete
  51. there are some similarities, cant stop reading... I guess, he would be out of business:).
    BTW, since you have disabled comments on your 'Donate' blog, here is a question. How long have you known the person listed as # 5 in the list and why did he want to be anonymous?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You compared me to Chetan Bhagat. I guess this is an all-time low in my life.

      And there are valid, well-defined reasons for
      1. the person's intention to remain anonymous, and
      2. my disabling comments.

      Delete
  52. No worries. I am still a huge fan of your blog...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you. People like you keep me going.

      Delete
  53. I have this dilemma.Do i like your blg because i like you or do i like you therefore your blog is a beloved too?

    ReplyDelete

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