<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913326904642319680</id><updated>2012-02-16T01:00:22.548-08:00</updated><title type='text'>aam aadmi ki complicated zindagi</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplicityishappiness.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913326904642319680/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplicityishappiness.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Taniya Walia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04301236301501721182</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sUyDm2tyhVQ/TRL0GL9LGKI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/rktbxgOEHzg/S220/Image%2528117%2529.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>3</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913326904642319680.post-4307143756146555759</id><published>2012-01-29T08:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-29T09:12:23.738-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-indent: 0in;"&gt;Without You.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rey rang the bell repeatedly, he was panting but hehad to be there on time. Kriya had reminded him suddenly, it wasn't as if hehad forgotten about it... none of them could but he didn't realize on time, andif he hadn't he wouldn't have ever forgiven himself. Sharon&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;needed him... as always.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;He ran up the stairs, climbing two at a time but assoon as he reached the corridor, he dropped his speed, walking stealthily. Thedoor of her room was open. He stood near the door; she was sitting at herwriting desk, at it already. He looked at his watch as it struck 12.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Hi,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;It's been six years already. I won't say how didthey pass... because I very well know how they did. Each day yearning that youcould be next to me. Hoping for some miracle to happen to bring you back tolife. Wishing I had told you just once more how I felt before it was too late.But none of it happens, and days drag by... without you.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Rey and Kriya try helping me move on. I am living mylife, I won't lie to you. But that's all I can do for now. Rey used to tell menot be guilty about what happened. For some time I was frustrated thinking hewould not understand, I was the one who pushed you away from myself. But now Idon't. I know feeling guilty of over what happened won't do justice to yourlove.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I wish just once you could read these letters Iwrite to you every year. I want to see your eyes boring down on each word Iwrite, your fingertips tracing the bumps on the paper, and the smile on yourlips when you'll look at me after you finish reading, the warmth of your hugwhen you'll embrace me never to let go.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I got a job as a choreographer. You must besurprised that I out of all the people in the world am working. But the day youleft……&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;Sharon&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;in a word without you, she stoppedbeing Sharon Rai Prakash. You would be shocked beyond belief when you see howwell the two groups have gelled over the years... or maybe you know already,since you're watching us.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Last night I dreamt of you... back in the college lockerroom, telling me to let go off of you. But I fought back because you're mine,only mine. Yet when you walked out, still looking at me, tears in your eyesrevolting to come out... I wanted to scream at you to stop, don't go... but myvoice seemed to have got stuck somewhere. Was it really you... telling me tomove on? If yes then you should know I'm angry. You can't do this to me. You'rea piece of me I can't let go.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I went to college a few days back. Dad was tellingme to take over his Trustee duties. I wanted to see if I could still be therewith all those memories. And yes I can be. Those memories of you are all aroundme, be it in college, my home or inside me... so what's the point running away?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Do you remember RDX sir's party? I do. When you had notkissed me saying that you didn't want any of us to be guilty of what wouldhappen. And then our first kiss, on the day I had told you how I feel.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I don't know from where I got that courage to tellyou in front of the whole college. And I had turned away when you begancelebrating your win in the Footloose competition with everyone. I had turnedback thinking I didn't have enough courage. But as always you knew I was thereand you held my hand. I never told you but my heartbeat almost stopped everytime you touched me. The rest you know... the two magical years of our livestogether - the last year of college, creating a common dance team, and allthose funny little silly fights we had with each other.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;You always said - 'It'll pass'. True. The pain haspassed... but the yearning does not. Maybe it'll take me a few more years. Andthen all that will be there is you, holding my hand guiding me through my life.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;And I'll be waiting, 'cause I know you won't come bymy side till I had stopped hoping for you to be there.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Love you,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;The one who'll always be yours,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Sharon.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;She put the letter in an envelope and sealed it,writing on it the word that was the center of her existence - Swayam.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;As she got up she saw Rey standing at the thresholdbut did not say anything. Walking lightly as if she had no energy in her, shewalked to the cupboard taking out a box with some more similar letters sheplaced it with them.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;She could feel Rey behind her; she had heard hismuffled footsteps as he had walked towards her. Keeping the box back in thecupboard she turned around.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Rey looked into her eyes. She knew the look - it wasone of concern. Every year when she finished writing the letter on Swayam'sdeath anniversary, he had stood outside her room waiting for her to finish. It hadbecome a kind of ritual they shared.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Heembraced her in quick tight hug and she hugged back. He was one of the fewpeople left in her life who truly cared, and she cared for him. But that wasall she could give him, because all her love had been over with the love storythat ended, and she lived... without him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913326904642319680-4307143756146555759?l=simplicityishappiness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplicityishappiness.blogspot.com/feeds/4307143756146555759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://simplicityishappiness.blogspot.com/2012/01/without-you-rey-rang-bell-repeatedly-he.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913326904642319680/posts/default/4307143756146555759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913326904642319680/posts/default/4307143756146555759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplicityishappiness.blogspot.com/2012/01/without-you-rey-rang-bell-repeatedly-he.html' title=''/><author><name>Taniya Walia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04301236301501721182</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sUyDm2tyhVQ/TRL0GL9LGKI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/rktbxgOEHzg/S220/Image%2528117%2529.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913326904642319680.post-367493526912458187</id><published>2011-05-03T12:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-29T07:43:01.897-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Last and Eternal Love!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eHgfVZds8WE/TcBVcydgnPI/AAAAAAAAAB4/oDePYXXrPUE/s1600/First+N+Last+Love%2528MobileWap.Mobi%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eHgfVZds8WE/TcBVcydgnPI/AAAAAAAAAB4/oDePYXXrPUE/s200/First+N+Last+Love%2528MobileWap.Mobi%2529.jpg" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;"Ritzi, you have to tell me today what's up with this 'last and eternal love' anyway?" Varun gave the card in his hand another glance and said. His tone was playful mixed with a fake hint of annoyance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;"Huh? You mean to say this isn't the first time she's given you such a card?" Sheetal coughed as she drank her drink when she heard her cousin say those words. "How romantic!" she added.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;"What's so romantic about it?" Piped in Ashvariya as she leaned against her husband's arms, relaxed as Shaurya ran rubbed her arms while smiling. "It's just a stupid card anyway!" This made Shaurya stopped his moving hands for two seconds as he gave her wife a glance of helplessness. "Ash, you are still unromantic as ever…" he sighed and kissed the top of her head. Anshul, seeing his former crush snuggling so cutely to her husband made him stare at his wife to whom only her drink seemed the most important thing in the world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;Ritika shook her head at her friends and turned to raise her eyebrows to her husband Varun. She could easily see the playfulness dancing in his eyes and the truth of the annoyance behind his expression. Taking her time, she sipped from her drink and pretended to think.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;"What's so wrong about it anyway? I think the words in itself are too poetic, how can you not like them?" She asked in return and saw Varun roll his eyes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;"Spare me the pleasure of your poetic riddles honey, I just want the answer!" He demanded in his business tone which was cold, husky and very royal. Ritika smiled at the childishness of&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;his world famous business tycoon husband.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;All of this was happening in the expensive and elegant sitting room of the Raichand Villa, where Varun Raichand lived with his wife Ritika and two 14 year old twin boys. Today was Varun's birthday and like every year he had decided to spend this day with his extremely close friends and family. Unfortunately, his parents Neeraj and Mansi Raichand couldn't be there for their son's birthday because of their priorities. Nonetheless, it wasn't a big loss for the birthday man; after all he hadn't been extremely close to his parents anyway. It was always a day which was a bit off the traditional because whenever people heard there was birthday of a rich and famous business person, immediately a thought of lavish party crossed their mind whereas for Varun a good birthday celebration meant close friends, a glass of finest wine and a few arguments with his wife.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;"What don't you like about it?" Ritika tried again and suppressed a smile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;"Everything! It makes me feel like I'm missing a lot of things from your life. 'Last'? The word makes it feel like there's been so much in your life and I've been too absent through it, I hate that feeling." Varun finished his glass of wine in one gulp and said out his feelings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;"Varun, it is about time you accept the fact that no husband knows everything about their wife's life. And trust me, it's better that way." Shaurya said in a reasoned tone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;"Not for me, I always like to be the first. Be it professionally or personally, first is what I am meant to be." Varun's voice was filled with furious pride as the smirk crept on his lips at his words. Anshul and Shaurya whooped at his statement while Ashvariya just shook her head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;"But, I&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;am&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;first in Ritika's life." He added with an afterthought. Ritika raised her eyebrows at him. "Well, I am the first person to see when she wakes in the morning, the first she calls in when she's happy or sad, the first person to hold her hand etc." Varun explained with a wink towards Ritika. Ritika gave a soft laughter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;"This makes you the first in everything cous!" Sheetal chirped and applauded. A wave of laughter echoed in the room.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;"True, but that doesn't mean that you are a first in everything hubby!" Ritika said in a mysterious voice when the laughter died. "Oh c'mon Ritika, you can't wiggle out of this one. Admit it, I'm always first in your life!" Varun said in a somewhat bragging way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;"Of course not! You're not the first one who—" the words escaped Ritika's mouth before she could stop herself. As she said it, a pair of smiling eyes and a single silver earring flashed in her mind. Her heart skipped a beat and the smile&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;on her face faded away as a shadow of the past crept on her face. But it was gone as soon as it had come. Varun was staring at her with a confused smile and questioning eyes. Ritika just shook her head and plastered a smile on her face which clearly indicated that she wanted everyone to forget her blunder.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;"Forget it! Who wants more wine?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;---------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;Ritika walked into the study and closed the door behind her. Walking to her shelf, she extracted an old blue diary from behind her books, somewhere no one would dream to look for anything special. The year engraved on the diary was exactly 20 years old. Taking the diary in her hand, she moved her fingers over the silver writing of the year and a sad smile crept on her lips. Sighing, she walked towards her favorite chair and sat on it. Bringing one knee to her chest, she rubbed her temples. Too much wine, she thought as she closed her eyes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;"Let me give a massage, trust me all the headache will be gone in a poof!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;Ritika opened her eyes with a start as the voice rang in her head. The playful, carefree voice with enough power to take away anyone's troubles away. Could she ever forget that voice? Could she ever forget the person to whom the voice belonged? Did she even want to forget him…? After twenty years, she was still clutching to the memories silently without giving away anything. Why? She sometimes questioned herself and the answer was always ready…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;Ritika opened the diary and turned the pages one by one just glancing over them without giving them much thought. She was 18 when she started her first diary and strangely on the last night of her 18&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;year, she stopped writing it. Ever since then, Ritika had never considered writing a diary. After carefully turning the old yellowed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;pages, she finally reached the one she was searching for. Running her fingers over her own writing, she read the words she had written long ago which she still remembered and all the feelings attached to it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;I am in love…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;These four words had marked the beginning of everything…all her firsts which Varun claimed that he was. And Ritika had never cleared his misunderstanding. He had no idea how hard, painful, heartbreaking being anyone's first was. So many feelings attached to being the first. Each one of them irreplaceable and she knew it because the special place that&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;he&lt;/i&gt;held in her heart was still not replaced by anything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;Him.&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;Jay Singh Rathore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;Her.&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;Ritika Jaiswal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;Them.&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;A dream still etched in her heart, never letting go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;Jay was her first; first best friend, first rival, first support and first love. He was first person who brought her out of her fairytales and made her see that the magic of reality went far beyond the boundaries of stories. The first person to break the walls she had created upon herself. The first person to give her wings. The first person to tell her just how beautiful she was…the first person to unlock all the emotions she never thought she would be able to feel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;The happiness of sharing the little joys of life with someone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;The eagerness to get by someone's side as soon as possible.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;The strange fluttering of heart just by assurance that in the crowd there was one person who quietly cheered her on with a smile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;The joys of seeing all the magical dreams come true.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;The sensation of soul being sucked from your body when someone kissed you…just what was that Jay hadn't done to her?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;He was like a storm who's each action swept her off her feet. His smiles, his laughter, his anger, his excitement, his childishness; he was so full on emotions and each portrayal of his emotion was so breathtaking, or maybe she was the only one who felt the world stop and people disappear whenever he smiled at her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;How could she ever forget when he had sneaked in her room in the middle of the night like a thief and danced with her under the light of the full moon in the balcony? The wind played the melody and the trees were the audience as they moved around perfectly with their arms around each other. All because she had carelessly wished for such a moment in front of her. And he had been the first one to fulfill it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;Or the time when he had sung her a song in front of the whole crowd, meaning every word as he sung it? She remembered her rapid heartbeats and uneven breathing when he started straight into her eyes as his hands moved on the keys of the Ritikano. It was like she was going die because her heart was going to explode due to happiness. He was the first person to show that he cared in such a dreamy manner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;And never could she forget the time when after their first huge fight, he had grabbed her hand and pinned her on the wall with eyes that showed anger like she'd never seen before. When she had demanded him to let her go with furious and hurt tears in her eyes, he had crushed her lips with his. Her first kiss. It wasn't gentle but furious. It wasn't demanding, it was commanding. His kiss had told all his unspoken feelings that she wasn't alone burning in the sweet flames of love, he was with her too. She had felt like her breath was going to leave her body if he didn't stop yet she hadn't wanted him to stop; she was welcoming that sweet breathlessness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;So many firsts…that Varun could never have in her life. And because of all these beautiful firsts, she was still fulfilling the first promise he asked her make. It was when he was going, forever. Parting was the gift he gave her on her 19&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;birthday. He had taken her hand in his' and asked her to promise her. That he would always be her last…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;"Promise me, I'll always be your last. Your last first kiss and your last first love…please don't forget your first promise with me…"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;After saying those words, he hadn't stayed but had walked away. Without a backward glance at her tears…he walked away. Never to turn back again. Never to be by her side again…never to be the first in anything in her life again. He had given her all his share of firsts…now she was left with seconds only…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;Ritika got out of her whirlwind of memories. Rubbing the traces of tears from her face, she got up and walked towards the window. For twenty years she had been fulfilling her promise to him and she would keep on holding on to it. Even if he hadn't made her promise to remember him, she still would've done in anyway. He was far too special for her forget. Her present may have Varun having all the firsts but her untouched pure past was filled with Jay. She loved Varun more than anything in the world and her whole future was no doubt be going to be spent with him by her side but that one year she had spent with Jay had given her so many firsts and memories that an eternity wouldn't be enough to erase them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;Even if Jay had given her such beautiful feelings, he had also given her first heartbreak which still throbbed whenever she thought about in loneliness. Maybe that was why she was persistent to keep Jay the first and Varun the last in her life…because Varun would be the last person to leave her with heartbreak…something that would never. She only wished Varun could understand the beauty of the word 'last' in her life without her trying to make him understand. Because if she did try to make him understand, she would have to taint the untouched snow of her secret one year with Jay, something she would never do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;Sighing, she stared at the falling snow outside of the window. It was going to a night to remember all her firsts. Even as she watched, in the screen of her mind her first ever snowfall became clear.&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;"Jay! It's snowing! My first snowfall ever!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Really? Then let's have another first!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"What?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span class="apple-converted-space"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Your first snow fight! With me…!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Who else would I have it with anyway?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"No one…because all your firsts belong to me Ritika…"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #31849b; font-size: 18pt; font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913326904642319680-367493526912458187?l=simplicityishappiness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplicityishappiness.blogspot.com/feeds/367493526912458187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://simplicityishappiness.blogspot.com/2011/05/last-and-eternal-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913326904642319680/posts/default/367493526912458187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913326904642319680/posts/default/367493526912458187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplicityishappiness.blogspot.com/2011/05/last-and-eternal-love.html' title='Last and Eternal Love!'/><author><name>Taniya Walia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04301236301501721182</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sUyDm2tyhVQ/TRL0GL9LGKI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/rktbxgOEHzg/S220/Image%2528117%2529.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eHgfVZds8WE/TcBVcydgnPI/AAAAAAAAAB4/oDePYXXrPUE/s72-c/First+N+Last+Love%2528MobileWap.Mobi%2529.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913326904642319680.post-604892395535370309</id><published>2011-01-16T06:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-04-18T11:03:59.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NO ONE KILLED JESSICA……</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sUyDm2tyhVQ/TTL9HMx8jwI/AAAAAAAAAAw/olDxiMqzTnQ/s1600/Jessica-Lal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sUyDm2tyhVQ/TTL9HMx8jwI/AAAAAAAAAAw/olDxiMqzTnQ/s200/Jessica-Lal.jpg" width="162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;(P.S.- This is NOT a film review, but its just what i feel about this case.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;This one incident happened on 29th April,1999. That particular night, many high-profile people of high statuses were present at the opening of a restaurant. There were people, there was DJ &amp;amp; music, there was dancing. There were 2 people at the bar-&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;Jessica Lall, a model-cum-part-time bartender, and her friend &lt;/span&gt;who was a model-cum-struggling actor, who were serving drinks to the people. Then, 3 young boys entered the party premises at about 2 a.m. and demanded for drinks. Jessica’s friend repeatedly told them that the bar is closed and no drinks are allowed, Jessica stepped in and repeated the same thing to them. One of them, Manu Sharma took out a Rs. 1000 note and tried to bribe them, but still Jessica &amp;amp; her friend remained adamant. Then, he took out a gun &amp;amp; threatened them. Then again, they refused him. His friends tried to calm him down, but it had been too late. After being repeatedly rejected just for a drink, he shot her down without even thinking once. Jessica’s friend saw Manu take out the gun &amp;amp; shoot her. He called up Jessica’s sister, Sabrina &amp;amp; told her about the whole incident once she reached the hospital. The police was called; they took the signatures of all the 300 people present. Jessica died in the hospital; her close and family friends attended her funeral. The police took statements of all the people who signed their presence, only to hear one statement from about 290 people- “12 o’ clock, I was out.”; “I was not in town”; “I was not at the party.” etc etc etc….. &amp;nbsp;Only few of her friends signed the FIR which stated that Manu Sharma had killed Jessica Lall. Manu Sharma was the son of a very powerful MP and so were his other two friends. Because of his father’s influence and power, many witnesses who had promised to help Sabrina, backed out at the last minute. The prime witness, Shayan Munshi (Jessica’s friend whom I was referring to), also turned hostile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;4 years later, in 1996, the lower court announced the accused acquitted.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;JESSICA LALL WAS DENIED JUSTICE.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;Journalists, media personnel’s, newspapers, news channels and even movies (to some extent) brought up this case. Various protests came up, people formed groups; candle-light marches were held for Jessica. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;DELHI WANTED JUSTICE FOR JESSICA;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;DELHI CAME TOGETHER ONCE AGAIN, FOR JESSICA!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;Then finally, on 19th April 2010, i.e. 14 yrs after the 1st announcement of the court; Sabrina’s prayers were answered, her efforts were paid off, Delhi’s efforts were paid off; Delhi High Court looked into the case from the scratch. They found that Manu Sharma was guilty, the bullets were changed, the witnesses were influenced and so, Manu Sharma was given life-term imprisonment; his friends got 4-years imprisonment.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;On THAT DAY, JESSICA FINALLY GOT JUSTICE!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"&gt;This was a real-life incident that happened in Delhi. When I first read about this in the newspaper, I thought- “HOW CHEAP! I MEAN, HOW A GUY CAN SHOOT A GIRL, JUST BECAUSE SHE REFUSED HIM A DRINK!? THAT’S STUPIDITY!”&amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;That time, I was just about 8 or 9 years old I think. That time, I felt that- ‘how can a guy shoot a girl just because she refused to HAVE A DRINK WITH HIM?’ Yup. That’s what I THOUGHT. But then, when in the class this topic was brought up, THEN I CAME TO KNOW THE WHOLE STORY! I and my friends were discussing about this in class in front of ma’am (it was sort of a discussion she wanted us to have.) When my friend asked me, ‘Tanu, what do you think about it?’ I was speechless.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; tab-stops: 409.0pt;"&gt;I thought for some time and then said, “I don’t know what to say on this. I think that if a boy can kill a random girl just because she refused to give him a drink, then I think that boy can do anything to girl whom he knows!” Came back home, did homework, had food, saw T.V. While watching, a particular news channel was discussing about this case.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; tab-stops: 409.0pt;"&gt;Didn’t know y, but after the discussion in the class and after whatever I saw on the T.V., I felt a little bit disturbed about this whole episode. I felt as if… as if I had lost a friend and I felt bad from inside. I FELT UNSAFE FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; tab-stops: 409.0pt;"&gt;At night, I used to pray to god to give Sabrina strength for bearing all this.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; tab-stops: 409.0pt;"&gt;When on April 19, 2010 I saw on T.V. that Manu Sharma had been proven guilty, I was literally happy. I was jumping up and down due to happiness and was shouting- “YES! YES! YES! FINALLY THAT BASTARD HAS BEEN SHOWN HIS PLACE!!” My Dad came in running to my room &amp;amp; asked me if anything was wrong. I replied- “No dad! Ab kuch galat ho hi nahi sakta! Ab sab kuch Achcha hi hoga!” &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;That day, I FELT SAFE! I FELT PROTECTED!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913326904642319680-604892395535370309?l=simplicityishappiness.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplicityishappiness.blogspot.com/feeds/604892395535370309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://simplicityishappiness.blogspot.com/2011/01/no-one-killed-jessica.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913326904642319680/posts/default/604892395535370309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913326904642319680/posts/default/604892395535370309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplicityishappiness.blogspot.com/2011/01/no-one-killed-jessica.html' title='NO ONE KILLED JESSICA……'/><author><name>Taniya Walia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04301236301501721182</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sUyDm2tyhVQ/TRL0GL9LGKI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/rktbxgOEHzg/S220/Image%2528117%2529.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sUyDm2tyhVQ/TTL9HMx8jwI/AAAAAAAAAAw/olDxiMqzTnQ/s72-c/Jessica-Lal.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
