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Marry the person you met on your own terms. The one you first noticed poring over her books, ever so slightly adjusting the bridge of her spectacles as they slid delicately down her nose. The person who you approached with no reason in particular. The one who went from stranger to friend to confidante; from the person you never spoke to, to the person who kept you up at night. Marry her, because she will always be those things — friend, confidante and perhaps even accomplice, because she loves you so.

Marry the person who you know like the back of your hand. The back of whose hand you know better than everyone but her. The one who you’ve been ‘dating’ for quite a while now. Marry her because she’s the one person you want to spend the rest of your waking years with. Marry the person you love, the one who’s deeply in love with you, for that would be a wedding between two people and not between their families. Propose to her at the top of the Empire State Building or the Eiffel Tower, and watch her smirk as she tells you she knew of your plans all along. Marry her because she said yes even before you finished your sentence. Marry her because she doesn’t care if you’ve got a ring; she will marry you even without one.

Marry the one who makes you feel like you’ve just finished a large jigsaw puzzle when your hands are intertwined with hers. She’s the one who ignites all sorts of emotions in you — pain, rage, annoyance, indifference, happiness, comfort, bliss. The one who you fight with over the silliest of things, the one who you have the bitterest of shouting matches with, the one who apologizes for both of you, the one who cries on your shoulder because she feels bad for shouting at you. At the end of the day, all she wants is to be held close, telling her she’s in good arms. Marry her because at times, she needs a best friend and at times, her boyfriend, and you wear both hats quite well. She might miss her parents in the middle of the night, and want to visit them. Let her go, because you know she’ll be back.

Marry her, because you’re the one she calls right after having a nightmare, the one she looks to for comfort. She’ll want to hold your hand when watching a horror movie, so that she can squeeze it when she’s afraid. Give her a hug randomly. Tell her everything is going to be alright, even if you don’t know that it will be. She’ll take your word for it. Marry her because she trusts you blindly, and such trust is of the lasting kind. Marry her, because you aren’t always right, and she’s the only one who’ll tell you so. Your ego will take a hit but you’ll be happy she tells you everything she’s thinking. She’ll come to you when she’s confused, and confuse you too. You’ll chide her, pull her ear playfully, and you’ll forget the problem entirely. Marry her not because she comes from money, but because she values happiness over money (which you don’t have).

Marry her because she’ll reply to your long winded, handwritten letters, not just e-mails and texts. It may take a week for the letter to arrive, but she’ll be waiting from the day she wrote it. She’ll tell you everything down to the last detail, and she’ll scribble notes and little diagrams in the margins. You’ll probably call her after all that and tell her you can’t read her handwriting. She’ll go one better, and read that letter out to you. You’ll probably get bored halfway through and even fall half asleep because her voice is that soothing. You tell her this and you can almost hear her blush on the other side. Marry her because you want to tell her this every day, and that watching her blush makes your day.

Marry her because she knows all your quirks, and loves you despite them. Marry her, because she knows what you’ll say even before you do. You’ll tell her it’s cheesy that she completes your sentences, and get a harmless pinch in retort. Marry her because she’ll understand that sometimes, sports come before anything else, and tries to follow it just for you. You probably won’t sit down to watch her shows with her, but she knows and understands this. She’ll mock-fight you for the remote when there are clashing programs, but you’ll probably steal the remote and her heart by kissing her when she least expects it. Neither of you will get to watch your program that day.

Marry her because she’ll move ten cities in two years if she has to, for all she wants is to be with you. She’ll have expectations of her own, and you will fulfill them, but the journey will be cumbersome. She will stick with you through all of it. Marry her because, when she said yes, she said yes to the adventure that comes with marriage. She knows you like extra pickles on your sandwich, because she pays extra attention to everything you do. She probably added too many pickles once, and laughed at you while tears streamed down your face, but never again. Marry her because she’ll learn to make that perfect sandwich, just for you. She may not be the best cook in the world or she may not ever have cooked a thing, but for you, she’d go the lengths to be one.

Marry her because she knows that you enter a bubble of your own when you’re reading a book. She’ll want to enter that bubble with you, but she respects your space. She’ll spend hours in a bookstore waiting for you to pick up your books after she’s done with hers. She’ll watch you go through your routine of thumbing through books, sometimes stopping to read a few pages before buying them, just observing. When, after four hours, you don’t buy anything, she’ll smile at you and understand. She’ll design your bedroom to have reading lights so that both of you can read at night before you drift off. She’ll tuck you in when you fall asleep reading, and place the bookmark on the right page.

Marry her because you want to take her to a place she told you about when half asleep. The place might not even exist, but the adventure and the company makes it worth the effort. Surprise her, and watch her face light up. Marry her because she’s tried her best to impress your mother, and failed miserably. They’ll make for great tales to tell your kids someday. Marry her even if your parents come up with dozens of reasons not to and they will — caste, creed, religion, age, educational background etc. They know nothing of what you’ve been through and they’ll never be able to understand even if you explain. They’ll try to reason with you, resort to screaming, crying and emotional blackmail even, but they’ll come around to the idea, eventually. Five years down the line, they’ll know you made the right call.

Marry her, because it’ll make you happy, perhaps the happiest person in the world. It might disappoint her folks that they didn’t know of it, but on the big day, they’ll be the ones smiling the most. Marry her because you’ll need her to be all of the above things for you someday. She won’t bat an eyelid before dropping everything to help you. Marry her, because, when you look back a long long time from now, you’ll tell yourself you’d do it all over again if you had to, for her.


10…9…8…7… *echo*
Well, I can hear people out there yelling the countdown for the new year to start.. a new day to start something afresh.. to tear off the pages.. to burn the chapters which we’ve hated all through the year 2013.. This seems more like a day where we’ve got an excuse for every mistake we made, for every wrong we did.. Everybody is making wishes secretly for themselves.. New wishes.. New happenings.. Everything new for this new year.. But I just have one wish.. I don’t want anything new.. just something old I had owned long back.. I wish it to be mine.. again.. I know it’s not too much to ask for.. but that’s THE only thing I wish for.. Everybody wants to be happy at their will.. I want to be too.. and hence, the wish..Image

Three and a quarter..

Ever wondered how a relationship can last long? Like really long? Probably even the best of the couples who’ve survived so long may not be in a position to answer this correctly. I, of course, am not being judgemental. Well, they may state a dozen reasons, no one in particular. Nonetheless, it’s love what most of us would tend to agree to, but, that’s not the case. Yes. Love is enough but not good enough. The trust that you bestow upon your partner is probably the key. Okay, may not be the “sole key”, but yes, it definitely forms the base ingredient for a relationship to last long (yes, really long!). Love may bring into “existence” many relationships, but of all, the ones with trust are the ones which take a leap. But then again, there’s respect too. All women want to feel respected, and oh! cared too. Cuddled? Yes, indeed in bed! Hmmm.. Treated as princess? Hell yeah! Women want men to treat them like they are the sexiest woman on the planet and that no other woman compares. Treating her like she’s the only one can make her smile for quite a while, but what after that? Are we men supposed to instigate this “reign of terror” of faking around at times in our lives and end up a misogynist? Obviously not. We love women. We definitely don’t wanna end up that way. Then comes the million dollar question! What is it that women really want from a guy? We care for them, take them for walks, give them gifts, talk to them, listen to them, cuddle in bed and sometimes even end up giving away one of the best friendship shared just because your girl doesn’t like it.
Women always say they want a sensitive guy. But, do they really mean it? Truth is, if you go around apologizing all the time and crying frequently, then a woman will abuse you.

Now, for the most infamous part. Women say they want to be treated equal. Oh no, no, no. That is NOT true. A woman wants to be treated like a WOMAN, not like a man. So don’t be a Mr. Nice Guy, instead, be a Real Man (not being sensitive and nice at the same time because sensitive nice guys do finish last usually). We men can be bad boys, we break rules and sometimes behave rudely. If it means doing what you want rather than doing what she wants, then probably you should do it, but not often, because that again is rude.

Women want a man to listen to them. Yes, even to the gripes and details of all the craziness and not necessarily give advice. The concept of giving advice to a woman has always been bothering. If you try to give an advice, she tries to overrule it by calling it either immature or stupidly irrelevant. If you try not to give an advice, she calls you insensitive. What are you supposed to do? Keep mum or utter something? Either way you’re gonna be called names.

All these unanswered questions may evoke a tumult of question marks all around you, but don’t worry, you just need to be yourself. Learn to accept and admit your mistakes. Never disrespect a woman. Never. Whatever she opines on any issue, matters as much as yours does. I learnt my lesson the hard way. Now, probably it’s your turn.


Someday I am going to have to have the conversation with my son.  No, not the conversation all parents dread giving and all kids are mortified having.  I enjoy making people uncomfortable so that conversation should be fun.

No, I’m talking about another conversation.  The one that happens after I catch his eye doing what male eyes do well – following an object of lust.  We will probably be out at the mall, because that’s what dads do with their sons, and I’ll catch the look.  Maybe we’ll go to the beach and see it.  Doesn’t matter where it is, there will come a time when I will see it.  And then it will be time for this conversation.

“Hey, come here. Let me talk to you. I saw you look at her. I’m not judging you or shaming you. I know why you did. I get it. But we have to talk about it because how you look at a woman matters.”


A lot of people will try and tell you that a woman should watch how she dresses so she doesn’t tempt you to look at her wrongly.  Here is what I will tell you.
It is a woman’s responsibility to dress herself in the morning.  It is your responsibility to look at her like a human being regardless of what she is wearing.
You will feel the temptation to blame her for your wandering eyes because of what she is wearing – or not wearing.  But don’t.  Don’t play the victim.  You are not a helpless victim when it comes to your eyes.  You have full control over them.  Exercise that control.  Train them to look her in the eyes.  Discipline yourself to see her, not her clothes or her body.  The moment you play the victim you fall into the lie that you are simply embodied reaction to external stimuli unable to determine right from wrong, human from flesh.

Look right at me.  That is a ridiculous lie.

You are more than that.  And the woman you are looking at is more than her clothes.  She is more than her body.  There is a lot of talk about how men objectify women, and largely, it is true.  Humans objectify the things they love in effort to control them.  If you truly love a person, do not reduce them to an object.  The moment you objectify another human – woman or man, you give up your humanity.

There are two views regarding a woman’s dress code that you will be pressured to buy into.  One view will say that women need to dress to get the attention of men.  The other view will say women need to dress to protect men from themselves.  Son, you are better than both of these.  A woman, or any human being, should not have to dress to get your attention.  You should give them the full attention they deserve simply because they are a fellow human being.  On the other side, a woman should not have to feel like she needs to protect you from you.  You need to be in control of you.

Unfortunately, much of how the sexes interact with each is rooted in fear.  Fear of rejection, fear of abuse, fear of being out of control.  In some ways, the church has added to this.  We fear each other because we have been taught the other is dangerous.  We’ve been a taught a woman’s body will cause men to sin.  We’re told that if a woman shows too much of her body men will do stupid things.  Let’s be clear: a woman’s body is not dangerous to you.  Her body will not cause you harm.  It will not make you do stupid things.  If you do stupid things it is because you chose to do stupid things.  So don’t contribute to the fear that exists between men and women.

A woman’s body is beautiful and wonderful and mysterious.  Respect it by respecting her as an individual with hopes and dreams and experiences and emotions and longings.  Let her be confident.  Encourage her confidence.  But don’t do all this because she is weaker.  That’s the biggest bunch of crap out there.  Women are not weaker than men.  They are not the weaker sex.  They are the other sex.

I’m not telling you to not look at women.  Just the opposite.  I’m telling you to see women.  Really see them.  Not just with your eyes, but with your heart.  Don’t look to see something that tickles your senses, but see a human being.  

My hope is that changing how you see women will change how you are around them.  Don’t just be around women, be with women.

Because in the end, they want to be with you, without fear of being judged, or shamed, or condemned, or objectified, or being treated as other and that’s not just what women want.  That’s what people want.

Ultimately, it’s what you want.

Answer by Ritwik Kejriwal:

One of my favourite chain mails ever!

The following is supposedly an actual question given on a University of Washington chemistry mid-term.

Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?

Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant.

One student, however, wrote the following:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving.

As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different Religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell.

With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities:
1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.
2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.
So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, "it will be a cold day in Hell before I go out with you", and take into account the fact that I went out with her last night, then number 2 must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over.
The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct . . . leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting "Oh my God."


View Answer on Quora

Date a girl who doesn’t read. Find her in the weary squalor of a Midwestern bar. Find her in the smoke, drunken sweat, and varicolored light of an upscale nightclub. Wherever you find her, find her smiling. Make sure that it lingers when the people that are talking to her look away. Engage her with unsentimental trivialities. Use pick-up lines and laugh inwardly. Take her outside when the night overstays its welcome. Ignore the palpable weight of fatigue. Kiss her in the rain under the weak glow of a streetlamp because you’ve seen it in a film. Remark at its lack of significance. Take her to your apartment. Dispatch with making love. Fuck her.

Let the anxious contract you’ve unwittingly written evolve slowly and uncomfortably into a relationship. Find shared interests and common ground like sushi and folk music. Build an impenetrable bastion upon that ground. Make it sacred. Retreat into it every time the air gets stale or the evenings too long. Talk about nothing of significance. Do little thinking. Let the months pass unnoticed. Ask her to move in. Let her decorate. Get into fights about inconsequential things like how the fucking shower curtain needs to be closed so that it doesn’t fucking collect mold. Let a year pass unnoticed. Begin to notice.

Figure that you should probably get married because you will have wasted a lot of time otherwise. Take her to dinner on the forty-fifth floor at a restaurant far beyond your means. Make sure there is a beautiful view of the city. Sheepishly ask a waiter to bring her a glass of champagne with a modest ring in it. When she notices, propose to her with all of the enthusiasm and sincerity you can muster. Do not be overly concerned if you feel your heart leap through a pane of sheet glass. For that matter, do not be overly concerned if you cannot feel it at all. If there is applause, let it stagnate. If she cries, smile as if you’ve never been happier. If she doesn’t, smile all the same.

Let the years pass unnoticed. Get a career, not a job. Buy a house. Have two striking children. Try to raise them well. Fail frequently. Lapse into a bored indifference. Lapse into an indifferent sadness. Have a mid-life crisis. Grow old. Wonder at your lack of achievement. Feel sometimes contented, but mostly vacant and ethereal. Feel, during walks, as if you might never return or as if you might blow away on the wind. Contract a terminal illness. Die, but only after you observe that the girl who didn’t read never made your heart oscillate with any significant passion, that no one will write the story of your lives, and that she will die, too, with only a mild and tempered regret that nothing ever came of her capacity to love.

Do those things, god damnit, because nothing sucks worse than a girl who reads. Do it, I say, because a life in purgatory is better than a life in hell. Do it, because a girl who reads possesses a vocabulary that can describe that amorphous discontent of a life unfulfilled—a vocabulary that parses the innate beauty of the world and makes it an accessible necessity instead of an alien wonder. A girl who reads lays claim to a vocabulary that distinguishes between the specious and soulless rhetoric of someone who cannot love her, and the inarticulate desperation of someone who loves her too much. A vocabulary, goddamnit, that makes my vacuous sophistry a cheap trick.

Do it, because a girl who reads understands syntax. Literature has taught her that moments of tenderness come in sporadic but knowable intervals. A girl who reads knows that life is not planar; she knows, and rightly demands, that the ebb comes along with the flow of disappointment. A girl who has read up on her syntax senses the irregular pauses—the hesitation of breath—endemic to a lie. A girl who reads perceives the difference between a parenthetical moment of anger and the entrenched habits of someone whose bitter cynicism will run on, run on well past any point of reason, or purpose, run on far after she has packed a suitcase and said a reluctant goodbye and she has decided that I am an ellipsis and not a period and run on and run on. Syntax that knows the rhythm and cadence of a life well lived.

Date a girl who doesn’t read because the girl who reads knows the importance of plot. She can trace out the demarcations of a prologue and the sharp ridges of a climax. She feels them in her skin. The girl who reads will be patient with an intermission and expedite a denouement. But of all things, the girl who reads knows most the ineluctable significance of an end. She is comfortable with them. She has bid farewell to a thousand heroes with only a twinge of sadness.

Don’t date a girl who reads because girls who read are storytellers. You with the Joyce, you with the Nabokov, you with the Woolf. You there in the library, on the platform of the metro, you in the corner of the café, you in the window of your room. You, who make my life so goddamned difficult. The girl who reads has spun out the account of her life and it is bursting with meaning. She insists that her narratives are rich, her supporting cast colorful, and her typeface bold. You, the girl who reads, make me want to be everything that I am not. But I am weak and I will fail you, because you have dreamed, properly, of someone who is better than I am. You will not accept the life of which I spoke at the beginning of this piece. You will accept nothing less than passion, and perfection, and a life worthy of being told. So out with you, girl who reads. Take the next southbound train and take your Hemingway with you. Or, perhaps, stay and save my life.

—Charles Warnke

“She loved to walk down the street with a book under her arm. It had the same significance for her as an elegant cane for the dandy a century ago. It differentiated her from others.”

Found it so awesome that had to blog it here! 🙂

Goa Diaries-One

I’m standing here.. amidst the cold sea waters, touching my feet.. I can’t feel them.. I’m going numb.. Somehow I’m liking this numbness.. It’s giving me a ray of hope that all of those things which hurt me in the past few days aren’t hurting me anymore.. they can’t harm me anymore.. but inside, my heart knows that it’s not gonna happen so.. this numbness won’t last long.. the moment I get out of this water, those words that had hurt me are gonna come back rushing to me & all I can just do then is stare.. & take them as they come for me..
I don’t know why everything around this place reminds me of you.. I can smell your hair in this breeze.. I can hear your whispers in these waves.. I can even see you from a distance.. somewhere in the middle of the sea.. trying to call me.. I wanna go near you.. but I don’t think I can.. I just feel like turning my face away from you cuz somehow I don’t feel like looking at you anymore..
But, who am I kidding??
Aren’t you the one whom I loved so long, with all my heart?
Aren’t you the one who promised to be with me all through my life?
You defined love for me.. you became the definition of love for me.. you became the reason for my poetry.. you gave a new meaning, a new dimension to my writing.. you became my inspiration, my muse.. you were the reason I started realising how important life is, how important it is to love people around us, to make them happy.. it was you, who taught me to love.. but I’ll never be able to forgive you for breaking all those promises.. you’re the reason for us drifting apart..
The water is so damn cold that it’s starting to hurt me.. I’m still here.. standing amidst the sea..

When you’re choosing between two things that are making you happy, prioritizing gets difficult especially when you have no clue as of which one gives you more happiness. Sometimes life forces us to put more weight on one thing than another. Often, this priority shift may mean forgoing one goal in exchange for another, including weakening your professional aspirations in return for relationship growth. But they say you shouldn’t really sacrifice one aspect of your life for another. After all, what’s the fun of a promotion if you don’t have someone to share it with?
Prioritizing definitely doesn’t mean sacrifice. It means adjustment. It’s more like, you deal with things, you get to know stuff & then you end up asking yourself; worth it?
If you ask me, I would say adjustments are bad. They’re so bad that they might even bring out the worst in you. But then, I have this theory of convergence, that good things always happen with bad things. I know you have to deal with them at the same time, but I just don’t know why they have to happen at the same time.
These good & bad things will soon make you realise the kind of choices you have made & the kind of consequences you’re gonna face. After all, everything happens for a reason & the reason has always gotta be good.

For you Julia..

This one’s for Julia, who wanted this poem (call it a rhyme scheme rather :D) of mine to be here..
[AND Julia, you know it’s only on a special request! ;)]

You know you’re beautiful,
even with your hair tied..
What would have happened if you had loosened it?
I would have probably died..
You look really amazing,
The colour of your hair so tempting..
The way your lips go wide,
when you smile, my heart just takes a tide..
The colour you’re wearing is blue,
I’m not lying, it suits you!
Your eyes are so deep,
There’s something hidden indeed..
Something you wanna say,
or something you want me to read..
I don’t wanna extend my stupid lines anymore,
I know you’re laughing to the core!
I better shut it here & be done,
Hope you enjoyed this stupid one! 😀

P.S: Jules, You’re gonna get me killed! (*Bang* *Bang*)

This day is really special for me,
You can see me going crazy with glee..
I don’t know why today I feel,
Things happening are real or reel..
Well whatever it is,
I don’t want it to cease..
I wish I could capture them,
These moments I would frame..
But they’re still not too far,
They’re shut in my eyes like a star..
A star that is shining so bright,
That constantly reminds me everything’s going right..
That gives me a hope,
That it’s as easy as sliding down a slope..
Whatever decision I’m taking,
Whatever choices I’m making..
I wish they turn out as expected,
& then can I marry you,
Possibly spend the rest of my life with you..
I wish for all this to happen,
I wish for that smile to retain..
That’s making your pretty face gleam,
With the intensity of that of a sunlight beam..
I wish I could kiss you right away,
With these thoughts, here I lay..
Stupid me to dream so much,
Wanting so badly to clutch..
But nevermind, I’m still happy the things are going right,
Just like the day has passed & so will the night..
Just wanna say it again,
With much of happiness & a little bit of pain..
This day is really special for me,
I feel so loved & free..