If this aint love then how do we get out?

I came to Bombay in May 2006. 4 years and 6 months have passed since then….and HOW!! When I first arrived, I lived my life very quietly, just going about my work and on weekends visiting Hill Road to shop and then going to Mocha for a cuppa and then retiring as quietly. The enormity of the fact that I had actually rented my own apartment, I had my own unlimited (atleast at that time I thought so) money to spend and that I had no curfew (I had been staying in a hostel during college years) and there were soooooooooooooo many places to go eat/shop/party at, had obviously not sunk in. Few months into this lifestyle, I regained my strength (I had a bout of typhoid just before reaching Bombay) and my mother, after making sure that I had satisfactorily settled down, had left and soon thereafter my closest friend had made a new boyfriend who was from Bombay.

THEN there was no looking back. I plunged into what was about to come so hard, that my head still hurts when I think about that. I am occasionally found wondering “what came over me??”. I suddenly started going out ALMOST EVERY SINGLE NIGHT OF THE WEEK. It was crazy. I was perpetually hung over in office. If I dint end up going out on the then sacred nights of Thursday, Friday and Saturday, I underwent depression thinking that my social life is finished. I cant even recall the names of the sooo-many people that I met and befriended in those times and where all we partied. It was possibly the craziest time of my life. But alas…all good things come to an end. I never knew when I stopped enjoying going out every night, when I actually started making excuses for not going out, when I actually started looking forward to just having Chinese food delivered at our place and watching splitsvilla instead of getting plastered and throwing up.

My 2nd year was spent in making and retaining great friends and discovering the best places to eat in and around Bandra.

And ofcourse then I fell in love and the only thing that mattered to me a while after that was waiting and planning life around CC’s visits to Bombay. My 4^th year itch began I think towards the end of my 3^rd year. I started hating my job so vehemently that I cried for hours all together thinking why am I stuck in this city doing this crap work. I seriously started considering relocating to Delhi. But since I am such a sloth and such a wimp, nothing materialized even after my endless hours of raving and ranting. And then by the time I was actually able to build up my resolve, things took a different turn, and everything settled into place.

But when I look back at what I have lost, loved, lived and made in this city, I become almost nostalagic (4 years is not time enough to feel nostalgic)..but that’s that. I am so glad that I lived the way I did, met the people that did, ate where I did and loved the things that I did and I would never want to change anything about these past years (except may be I should I have started exercising a few months earlier J).

P.S: the title of this post has got nothing to do with this post, its just the song that I was listening to while writing this).

Flippity Flippity Flip

I am forced to think at times...do i treat my life too flippantly. I mean I see people all around me planning their lives so meticulously: what stream to pursue after HSC, which job to pick after graduation/post-graduation, which guy to date, where to live, what to eat for dinner, WHAT MOVIE TO WATCH!! (seriously!), how to plan a wedding. Just thinking about all this makes my head whirl. I have never ever ever EVER planned anything in my life. I am, what they call, a drifter. I have just gone along with whatever life presented at that instant. I never struggled against it, never sat back and thought "ok so what options do I have? what will the consequences of this be?" Now when I look back at all the "decisions" I made, I wonder whether I should have held back, whether I should have taken a moment to ponder and not jumped head long into whatever that life had offered. Well, I am not sure if I would be what I am if I would have waited for another opportunity to pop its head up. But then I think nah thats not my style. I mean I joined my college because i thought the college campus (which later turned out to be NOT my college campus) was pretty cool. If I feel like watching a movie, I watch whatever is playing that day. I picked up the first job that came my way. Anyways what is the point of pondering over all that. I, well almost, am always happy with whatever choices I have made. But it does irk me, at times when people think I am flippant. I am not sure why it bothers me, because collective historic data does suggest that I AM flippant. May be I want people to think that I am serious about my life and I am responsible with decision-making. But then what the heck, I will be bored to death if I have to hold myself back. I am a NOW person. If I want something, I want it NOW, this very SECOND. It gets a little annoying for people who have to deal with this quirk of mine...but alas I am who I am.

Booked

I am a huge HUGE fiction reader. A book is a hit with me, if it keeps me interested. That’s the reason why I usually don’t end up reading a Paulo Coelho or a Yann Martel. My absolute favorite books of all time are listed below:

Love Story (Erich Seagel)

What can you say about a twenty-five-year-old girl who died? That she was beautiful. And brilliant. That she loved Mozart and Bach. And the Beatles. And me.

Go on … finish off your sniggering. Done? Done. I am a girl and I like mush…I rest my case!
The first time I read the book was, I think, around eleven years back when I was constantly in the throes of one crush or another and, understandably, I was completely floored by the book. A couple of years later, I chanced upon a paperback of the book again. Just to check whether the book would have the same effect on me as 4 years back, I re-read it. I was reduced to tears the second time around (again!) at the end. I have read the book once more and it has managed to have the same effect on me and to the same degree.

Anyone who would actually have the nerve to tell me that they didn’t absolutely adore the book, would I know, be lying through their teeth and pretending to shrug off this poignant tale as a piece of mush chick-lit.
I must admit though, that the movie base on the book, was a complete DISASTER!

Dracula (Bram Stoker), The Historian (Elizabeth Kostova), Vlad: The Last Confessions (C.C.Humphreys)

First of all, let me clarify that I am no Vampire Tales junkie. The books listed above are listed here only for one reason- Once you start reading them, you just cannot put them down.

Dracula and The Historian are fictionalized accounts of Dracula, the Vampire. The Last Confessions is a near to truth account of the real Dracula, Vlad III Dracula. All the three keep you gripped for different reasons.

Bram Stoker’s Dracula is a cult classic and has given me many a sleepless nights. The Historian is something like the Da Vinci Code..it has the same mish-mash of interesting historical facts and is a complete historical thriller which will keep you engrossed from the first page onwards. The Last Confessions, on the other hand, has no supernatural elements and no vampires. Its an honest attempt to demystify the legend of Dracula by drawing out the person that Vlad Dracula was and the circumstances which lead him to commit the atrocities that he did. It’s a most compelling read.

The Palace of Illusions (Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni)

This is one of my recent reads. The portrayal of the big war (Mahabharata) and of the Pandavas and their lives, in the voice and view of Draupadi is fascinating. Apart from refreshing my memory of the Mahabharata tale (based almost entirely on the television serial), the book also managed to shed some interesting light on the core character of each of the Pandavas (I always thought them to be the greatest warriors/heroes of their times) by stripping them off their glorified versions. Must read for the sheer novelty of it.
Curfewed Night (Basharat Peer)

This is not really a fiction novel. It tells a gripping tale of Kashmir and of the eruption of the separatist movement and other developments that had lead Kashmir to become what it is today. For me, this book was an eye opener. The romanticism of the militancy which attracted young boys towards it, the reasons why kashmiri muslims have been spilling their blood for the right of self determination, is something that I could understand and now appreciate. If you are a tolerant Indian, I would strongly recommend this book.

And then there are the classicly inane books like Veronica Decides to Die, The Alchemist, Life of Pi, which I absolutely refuse to appreciate simply because the rest of the world appreciates. This genre of books does nothing (except wastes my time) for me.
Anyways, do drop in a word of recommendation, if there are any books that you feel everyone should read.

Humph!

To make friends and to maintain the “friendship”, is, I believe, one of the most arduous tasks on this planet. To begin with, it is next to impossible, to find a person that you genuinely enjoy having a conversation with, and conversation to me, dear reader, is the most important pre-requisite of striking the bond that we call friendship. Even if you manage to go past the initial hindrance and can indeed have a brilliant conversation with a person, this city does you in. It does not allow you the physical proximity, that you require for having the much desired conversation (I just CANNOT have any meaningful conversation over the phone).

I happened to have had an epiphany today which left me a little disillusioned. I realized that quiet a few of my friendships are not what I had hoped them to be. So I am simply going to prattle on about how I feel all wrong about certain friendships that I have maintained.

Certain of my friends treat me like the “Friend Finder” option on facebook! They make “my” friends “their” friends, which for some reason really ticks me off, and then the “my-converted-into-their” friends become better friends of theirs and then I get to hear things and developments about such “my-converted-into-their” friends from the Friend Finder friend. Yeah, I know, may be I am behaving like an over-grown kid, but that’s that…so sue me!

Another set of friends are those who follow the ideology that if one has to become their friend, then they must eat, drink, breathe and everything else together! Well, I am all for spending time with friends, but doing over-time is really not my cup of tea, which leaves me sort of at the periphery of this group, and that saddens me at times.

Then I have certain friends with whom, if left alone, I cannot have any conversation at all. These are, what I call, the “group-friends”. This category is rather strange, because I know all that is to know about these group friends and vice-versa, I know what are their likes and dislikes and vice versa, but STILL, if we are alone without the “group”, there is no consequential conversation that can be had between us. This really perplexes me to no end.

Then ofcourse I have the “party-friends”. These are the ones who share the most honest bond with me. With them there is no pretence of being BFFs or any such thing. The deal is clear from the onset. We drink together, we party together, we dance together, other than that we are nothing more to each other. I have, quiet often, wondered about what would it be like to be REAL friends with some of these “party-friends”. But then I do not want to spoil the perfectly balanced relation with them. What if they become too clingy, what if they turn out to be absolute bores when sober, what if they don’t bother about me at all. These fears have always restrained me from making any efforts towards being real friends with this set.

But thank God for small mercies. I do have a handful of friends who are just that – FRIENDS. They indulge me, yell at me, hate me, love me and never ever judge me. I have never pondered so much over the nature of their bond with me.These are the ones with whom I have shared the most interesting conversations and the most companionable silences. And these are the ones, I know, I will always be friends with.

Atithi Devo Bhava...

You guys must have seen the promotional ads for Indian tourism which are endorsed by Mr. Amir Khan. This post is dedicated to the attempts made by me and friends to make all visiting firangs feel at home in India.The success or failure of such events... you will be able to gauge by the end of this post.

The first account involves VR's bachelorette party in Goa. There were four of us (ofcourse all girls). Those of you who are familiar with the Goa scene, would know how a group of girls, unaccompanied by the male of their species, can find the absence of the latter, both boon-ish and bane-ish, since we were subject to a lot of unwanted and wanted attention from locals as well as firangs. So this one night, we are at Mambo's and we are trying to find VR a pretty boy to flirt with. Now VR is like this super-duper choosy one, and we are having a hard time finding a cute firang to make VR want to flirt with him. After a lot of people watching, VR suddenly starts a frantic tugging of my non-existent sleeve and then coyly points out this MAJOR HUNK (australian, so we thought). The rest of us went..phew! Then, in sync, we started beaming towards THE HUNK, who rewarded us with his pretty smile. VR decides that she needs a couple of shots before actually doing anything about the beaming happening across the distance. So we move towards the bar counter (where THE HUNK was standing too). For the second time, I experience VR's frantic tugging at my non-existent sleeve, only to be pointed towards THE HUNK cozying up to another hunk (!!) which eventually turned into you know what! So in this case our efforts to make visiting firangs welcome in the country were totally wasted, as you can understand by now that they had already made themselves quite comfortable.

The second account also belongs to the same Goa trip. Change the setting to Tito's, where this REALLY REALLY cute guy (a Brit .. Tom) took the initiative to smile his pearly whites at us. So I decided, enough of acting as the wingman for VR, and smiled back. Eventually we started chatting up (or rather communicating by writing notes on the table napkin...the music was really loud!). Oh FYI - I was not single then. We did some harmless flirting and when Tom suggested that I accompany him and his friends to some other shack or some such place , I politely excused myself and re-joined my friends. Next day, I get a message from Tom while I was relating the whole story to the boyfriend. When the boyfriend, who anyways was not very amused with the story, gets to know about the message, he asks me "He messaged you ...meaning??". Me "Huh...he smsd me..." mental note "Sheeeeetttt!!" (You see I had forgotten to tell the boyfriend that I exchanged numbers with Tom!!) And I ended up getting an earful from the boyfriend. So this attempt too, to be nice and friendly to the visiting firangs, got me no brownie points.

The third episode is a more serious one and involves a recent trip to Colaba causeway. SA and I were standing near a footpath sandal stall when this weird lady came upto us and started pointing towards a near by fruit stall. She was trying to make us buy her some fruits. Now if she looked like someone who really was in need, we would have bought her the fruits. But this one was pretty decently dressed and had that cocky manner of the streetwise which gave us that peculiar impression that after taking the fruits from us she would walk off to her air conditioned shanty and start watching some daily on a plasma screen television. So while we were ignoring her, this firang uncle came by and stopped at the fruit stall to buy some bananas for his kid. Predictably the aunty swamped him with her pleas and the firang uncle, just so that he is left alone in peace to buy the fruits, agreed to comply to her requests. In a split second, the aunty left us speechless when she actually started picking and choosing what fruits she wanted and even after the poor firang uncle had bought her the fruits, she generally kept haggling for more, till the firang uncle walked away exasperated. While I witnessed the entire scene, Mr. Amir Khan's virtuous face from the tourism ads flashed in front of my eyes, and when the aunty restarted her ranting while pointing towards SA and me, moaning how heartless we were companred to the firang, I lashed out at her saying "Aapko sharam nahi aati. Koi bahar se aaya hai aur aap usko aise pareshan karte hain". SA, egged on by my bravado, also added a couple of lines . Bad move. The spate of cuss words we had to hear from her after that, made us run away, red-faced, as fast as was possible from there, while the faces of all the surrounding shop keepers (who were watching the entire drama with much curiosity) lit up with amusement.

Understandably, it was MAHA embarassing and I dont think I need to tell you, whether this attempt was a success or not.

But rest assured, these minor bumps will not deter me from till being warm and welcoming towards all the visiting firangs, albeit from a safe distance.

I am sick of being sick

As the wheels of my life rotate, they pretty regularly, for some karmic reason (I suspect) end up getting stuck at “falling ill”. And when I fall ill, it is not usually the standard flu, cough, food poisoning brand of sickness…no that IS NOT what my sickness is about. Well I get sick with perplexing and outlandish diseases of the following ilk:
- Its not a UTI. It has all the symptoms of a UTI. Its not IC (go google it!). It has all the symptoms of IC. The gynecologist, the urologist, everyone is baffled by what it is. Its making my life hell ‘cos I want to pee like “ALL” the time. Then after a year of it raising its queer head, me having popped a gazillion pills and basically having lost all hope in the magic of medical science (isn’t it a cute oxymoron!), it disappears as mysteriously as it had appeared.
- Its not flu, because I am not running any temperature. Its not thyroid, because the tests negate it. It’s the middle of April, and I am having shivering fits! My general physician (who CC thinks, should now start giving me reward points or entitle me to some such scheme considering how often I make a trip to him) gives me a tired smile and tells me to go home as nothing seems to be wrong with me. Then, as is the case with most of my diseases, this one also disappears after 2 months.
- Its not arthritis (even though I have gone ahead and sobbed the story of me having arthritis at such a 'tender' age to anyone who would care to listen!!). But this one most definitely has all the symptoms of it. All my small joints keep hurting and blah blah blah. But this is the seventh month of the mystery and sadly it has not disappeared till now.
- The current cause of my woes is this peculiar headache that I am getting. This is not a disprin-headache, but it is something that makes my head go dizzy, and it is (strangely at times) accompanied by temperature.

So this time my resolve weakened and I came running to Mommy Dearest. Yes I am back home!!
Being sick at home and being sick in Bombay are two totally different experiences. In Bombay, if you fall ill, you are holed up in one corner of your flat feeling sickly and lonely. By the time you battle traffic and reach the hospital, after a crazy 20 minute rickshaw ride, you think it is not possible for you to feel any sicker. But…BUT, nothing on this planet can make you feel sicker than that one moment , when you gingerly look at the amount left in your bank account after paying the doctor’s consultation fee and the bills for the umpteen tests that you are made to take…they take your blood, they take your p@#$$, they take your s!@#$ AND they take your money…they take away everything that you have ever called your own (ok..I will stop the melodrama, but then I am sick right now, so these spurts are discounted.right? right.)
Then the repulsive oil-dripping food your maid will cook, will make you want to puke and the thought of ordering from outside (because of health and financial aspects involved) will make you want to puke some more.
Then you will slowly and steadily become delirious, the lack of money, lack of food, lack of company will make you hallucinate and (mostly when you are alone at home..which you usually are, because everyone else is at work) you will hear sounds of water dripping from the tap in the bathroom and you will “feel” that someone is brushing their teeth in there (don’t laugh..I totally freaked yesterday..and YES it did happen to me). And then all you want to do is run..run as fast as possible and reach the safe havens of your own home, filled with the smells of home-cooked food and inane chattering of your mother.
And what a relief it is! The path-lab guy actually came home to take my blood sample! The doctor was an acquaintance and took time to be nice to me (unlike the Bombay lot of doctors- frigid asses! Except my GP, who is always ready with a smile!) and cracked jokes. I am getting cut-washed-seed-removed-fruits to eat. I don’t have to get up to heat my milk or even get a glass of water, I don’t hear any weird sounds except my mom generally talking away to no-one in particular (don’t be alarmed..that is usual for her)…. I actually cant think of one good reason to go back to manic Bombay and fall sick all over again!

The End of Dreams

I have always had this dream of learning the guitar. I would fantasize that I had become a pro at playing the guitar and have become all cool and a total babe with the guitar slung on one shoulder, chewing gum, messy hair, walking on the streets with that brooding solitary look which one finds ooohh-so-attractive. A part of such day-dreaming has also been about playing “Eleanor” for my friends and playing so well that all of them become moon-eyed and keep thinking “Oh my God…she is sooo COOL!!” Well I know these are all superfluous reasons for learning the guitar and maybe just jaded versions of my dreams as a teenager…but whatever.

So after much procrastinating etc…I decided to join this class which is conducted once a week. The first Saturday I went there, I was turned away because they didn’t have a spare guitar. The second Saturday I entered the class only to be surrounded by around 10 kids aging anywhere between 6 – 16. I went…WHATT!! I mean I thought the guitar class would be full of some really awesome types, but all I could see as far as my short-sightedness would permit me, were masses of human bodies reaching anywhere between my waist to my shoulder. That was the first dip in my enthusiasm level to learn the instrument.

Thereafter I was given this really shiny red guitar which I held on to awkwardly and I was shown to my group (the beginner’s group). Now my group consisted of 2 small kids and when I say small, I mean really small (when they slung the guitar on their shoulders, the guitar seemed taller than them!!..get the picture?) and a grandfatherly uncle! I again went…WHAT (second downer)!! Then the tutors…who were really..REALLY bad. They paid absolutely no attention to our group! I kept sitting there with the guitar for an hour and fifteen minutes while the two kids in my group kept fidgeting, fighting, whining and the grandfatherly uncle kept looking on patiently at the rest of the class. It was so putting off and torturous that I decided “No more guitar classes for me”.

How the dreams of a lifetime come to an end so abruptly!....Big HMPH!

Friends!

I am the sort of person who lives in denial. I like to think friends are .. yeah whatever..I am ok with or without them. But in my subconscience I know that, if even for a day I have to live without friends, I would most probably be running wild on the streets while pulling my hair apart.

So here is my friendistory..

Chaube. She is my closest friend. I have a lot of other very close friends with whom I can discuss most probably all the things that I can discuss with Chaube, but then she REALLY understands me. She understands my flippant/moody behaviour. She understands if I don’t reply to her smses (which by the way I rarely ever do!). She understands why I get irritated with almost everything around me. She understands why I need to act all Cool at times. She understands without me saying so that I really hate such and such person even though I am very pal-y with them. She understand why the hell am I still then friends with such and such person. She is just basically the closest that anyone has ever come to understand me. She does not ever EVER judge me (atleast not to my face). She will nod along whenever I spew forth my verbal rants and I think she pretty much gets where I am coming from and that I will forget about whatever it is that I am pissed off in about a span of 10 minutes (You see I am a very nice person at heart …who does not hold grudges for long). And yes she makes the best chai on this planet!

SA. She basically is my chaddi-baddi. We have been together for God-knows-how-many-years. We have literally grown up together and have been friends right from, I think, the first standard. She is like a mother-hen and gal-pal rolled into one. She will mother me to no end (Oh…to clarify..we have been flatmates for like 4 years now). She will ensure that I eat properly, that I take my medicines. She accompanies/offers to accompany me for all my doc appointments (and believe me…I have had loads of them). She has nursed me with khicdi, avomine and disprin through all my hangovers. The best that I have enjoyed shopping sprees..is with her…rasta shopping, mall shopping, boutique shopping…all sorts of shopping. We sort of have this pact..we very rarely go out on “sprees” with anyone else. Even if someone expressly asks us to take them along for shopping, we ignore them, because we hate shopping with other people (yeah..we are sort of weird that ways)! She brings out the feminine side of me. We like doing, spas, parlors and ofcourse shopping together. We luuurrrvvvee getting dressed up for occasions together. We love painting our nails together. And when Chaube, SA and me are together we can bitch and gossip and bitch and gossip like there is no tomorrow.

GA. Considering the fact that this guy is diametrically opposite to me in everything, its extremely surprising that we have been such close friends for so long. I started talking to him because a-once-upon-a-close-friend had a crush on him. But once we started down the road of friendship … there was no stopping us. Though apart from the college days, we have always stayed miles apart, when we catch up, on phone or personally, its like there was no interval in between. He is the most sorted person (apart from CC) that I know. And I say that we are totally different from each other precisely for such reasons..while I am maha impulsive, he thinks through everything. While I don’t fall for anyone easily (for me it’s a very very long journey to get comfortable with some one emotionally), he is a complete romantic at heart, while I was the sort who would have fun and then think about studies, he always studied and then thought of fun. Also, he being the only close/best friend/ sort of a boy around me in college, we both have had our share of crushes on each other and the fact that we overcame the awkwardness and became normal again and know that we now are friends for life, makes me even more fond of him.

VR. She is my “practical” friend. She tolerated (and participated at times) in my heavy college days hedonism, but she exactly knew what life has in the offing and never got carried away (unlike me) with all that you can get carried away in college years with. She has consoled me over thousands of cups of coffee and hundreds of packets of cigarettes, whenever I had SOSd her over “bf is a jerk” problem. She never gave me romantic solutions (and sometimes I hated her for that) for any of the problems in life. Her mantra was simple .. black is black and will always be black and likewise for white..now take your pick. Gawd…it was frustrating at times to unload off to her, but in retrospect I know now that she always made perfect sense. Though she is married now and settled in a far-far away land, I know she is and will always be there for me. And BTW she has a “rare” temper, rare in appearance and rare in intensity..she once threw GA and me out of her car (late night and god-knows-how-many-miles-away-from-the-hostel) just because we happened to make fun of her bag..thats VR for you!

SK and GN. Both school friends. Both not in the same city as me. Parents’ of both hate me for being “bad” influence on their daughters. Both part of the SS group. Whenever we touch base, we know exactly what the other’s about. This kind of friendship is difficult to find, easy to retain, comfortable to be in and lasts a longtime.

SK is the most naïve person I have met…one has to keep warning her about the big bad world outside. She cracks me up with her innocent one liners which she will deliver without even knowing how hilarious she is! With her I am always transported back to school, because we are always bitch without reason, we throw attitude without reason, we boss around without reason AND our mandate is to make fun of EVERYONE. We sort of lost touch in between but now that we are back on track there is no looking back and I am desperately hoping that she will come to Bombay soon sooner soonest.

GN always has always been wiser beyond her age (or so she likes to think). We were next door neighbors in school and covered up for each other’s amorous meetings. We have had a lot of our firsts together, the most interesting being the first flasher that we ever saw. She loves to give me heaploads of gyaan and I love listening to it. She is also the most headstrong and sensible girl that I know. She knows what she has and can have and she has made her peace with it and decided to be happy…and surprisingly things have always turned in her favor. I wish she too would relocate to Bombay….

TA. She is like my baby (though she likes to think it’s the other way around!). She is one of my youngest friends. She has a crazy and infectious laugh and no matter what mood you are in, once she starts laughing, you cant help yourself from joining in. We have had crazy nights in college hostel. I would kind of like to take credit for the way she is turned out to be (so much gyan I had given her during her formative (lol!) years on everything from jobs, studies, friends, lovers, sex, marriage, parents, college jerks and college bitches (whether or not I had any personal expertise in any of the above areas), and she has always heard me out seriously and i suspect (or rather hope) tried to adhere to it as well at times!. I still love sharing my wisdom with her …whether she wants it or not.

My list does not end there as I have loads of other close friends too from office, from college, including but not limited to Apurv (there you go…you made your debut!!) but my fingers are aching now.

Me as a friend…I would like to think I am a good, though absent-minded, friend. I would probably come across as indifferent towards my friends sometimes (because I don’t reply to messages, I hate having conversations on the phone, sometimes I would not even respond if my friend is sitting in front of me and chatting, I may forget b’days, I may forget to call up and ask after a friend’s health when I know they are sick etc etc), but then all my friends know (hopefully) that I am there and will always be there. And this post is just dedicated to all my friends for being there in my life, I cant imagine how dreadfully boring my life would without each single one of them (MD,SM, GR, SS, PS, DA, MP, RD,RS,Apurv,MM). I feel like I am giving a Filmfare award speech.

As they say…Old Friends Are Hard To Grow.

So long!