<?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-8689539128655413352</id><updated>2012-01-31T22:43:51.953+05:30</updated><category term='In Laws'/><category term='Good times'/><category term='Roommates'/><category term='Theatre'/><category term='Memories of the Single life'/><category term='Rant'/><category term='Mr.Loony'/><category term='Travelling around Madras'/><category term='Movies'/><category term='Stranger than fiction'/><category term='Weakness'/><category term='The other Loonies'/><category term='Marriage and such like'/><category term='Me Myself and Loony'/><title type='text'>Something about Everything</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>31</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-2062870704760294555</id><published>2011-08-21T20:11:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2011-08-21T20:40:38.059+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Travelling around Madras'/><title type='text'>Restaurant at the end of the Universe</title><content type='html'>Well, not the universe, but definitely at the end of mainland India, that's where we went, this Independence day weekend. They say make hay while the sun shines, so while we are in the extremely sunny and hot Madras, the husband and I decided to travel to as many places easily accessible from here and one such place is Kanyakumari.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a 14 hour sleepy train journey we arrived at the Kanyakumari station which was in complete shambles. The one good thing about this train journey was that instead of reading, or playing UNO, we played 20 questions for guessing a celebrity. We stayed at the Vivekanandapuram, which I think was a bad decision because roughing it out and staying in budget accommodation is just not in us.  Once we settled in our dingy little room we decided to get out of it immediately.  A problem I seem to have with travelling around south India is that every tourist destination seems to have temples gallore, something that neither the husband nor I are really interested in. So if we leave out the temples then the only two things to do in Kanyakumari were to enjoy the Sunset and Sunrise and visit the Vivekananda Rock memorial and we were disappointed in both of these.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately it was very cloudy so even though we reached well in time, found a huge rock, managed to climb it and plonk ourselves on to it, we were not able to see much of the sunrise or the sunset and we had really picked the worse time to travel as there were hordes of people from around the country, it being he independence long weekend, which meant huge queues in the harsh sun. I love getting tanned but I would rather be tanned from lazying on the beach then from standing in a serpentine queue to visit some Rock. Sigh. All in all, I would recommend that you rather skip this place unless of course you are loony like me and think that it's fun to go to a restaurant at the end of the universe, oh I know it's just the end of mainland India but that sounds so lame doesn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A mention about this restaurant is really necessary, one of our biggest disappointment in Kanyakumari was the food. Now I really like South Indian food and stick to it most of the times but even the South Indian food was horrible to say the least, right when we were about to lose all hope, we found this little place called Sangam which thankfully served a mean fish fry and food that wasn't great but wasn't bad either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-2062870704760294555?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/2062870704760294555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=2062870704760294555' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/2062870704760294555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/2062870704760294555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2011/08/restaurant-at-end-of-universe.html' title='Restaurant at the end of the Universe'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-7300936613137762079</id><published>2011-05-21T14:03:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2011-05-28T12:09:50.581+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mr.Loony'/><title type='text'>From Murphy, with love.</title><content type='html'>My husband and Murphy seem to be at loggerheads always and this time Murphy really outdid himself. Every evening  on our drive back home husband and I  have recently been hooked to a radio show called 'The evening drive' by a fantastic RJ Disha Oberoi but once we get home we have to listen to the radio on the cell phone and hence I decided to get a FM transistor and on our next visit to Mercy electronics I wanted to pick-up a simple Philips transistor, but the husband refused. He said he wanted to check for better deals!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so furious, I mean the thing was for Rs.550 and he wanted to look for deals? But it's my geeky husband and when he says better deals it necessarily translates into an expensive piece of electronic junk that will do hajaar things that are really not necessary like for example it will say "God bless you" when you sneeze, if you spend an extra Rs.10,000/- * rolls eyes * So off he went and came back with this&lt;a href="http://amzn.to/lJaCLj"&gt; fancy IPod dock&lt;/a&gt;, that cost us 20 times any decent transmitter would have cost us. Oh well, I was happy as long as I could listen to the radio at home and the first thing I wanted to do was to tune it to  104.8 FM and well um we couldn't tune it. Seriously we just couldn't believe it, I mean it would go from 104.7 to 104.9, we were exasperated. I mean how difficult is it to tune a radio? To top it, there wasn't a user manual We tried everything we could think of including begging the radio to have some mercy on us. So there we were, trying to understand why, what and how did this happen! Hubby dearest felt really frustrated and bummed and I can imagine Murphy smirking smugly as if to say, so you just spent 20 times the amount required, now let me spoil it for you. So for this birthday I have a request for Mr.Murphy, can you please not mess with the hubby in matters where I am involved too?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: We finally found a online manual and were able to tune the radio, we just had to change the region under settings to Asia for which we had to press few buttons together which we would have never thought of! But for the hour or so we took to finally be able to do that, we felt really stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.P.S: I was recently telling a friend about Murphy's love for my husband and around 10 minutes later the friend remarked "Oh! You mean Murphy as in from Murphy's law. I was wondering if you were talking about your landlord." I didn't know if I should laugh or cry for having such intelligent friends, so if there are any more like him around let me clarify, Murphy most definitely isn't our landlord * Chuckles *&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-7300936613137762079?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/7300936613137762079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=7300936613137762079' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/7300936613137762079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/7300936613137762079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2011/05/from-murphy-with-love.html' title='From Murphy, with love.'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-5312082084473115877</id><published>2010-04-25T15:30:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-04-25T16:57:02.814+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me Myself and Loony'/><title type='text'>Just be yourself</title><content type='html'>That's the worst advice my dear husband Mr. Loony ever gave me. No really. After dating me for years when he finally takes me to meet his parents he advises me to be myself. That could only mean trouble no?  I mean an average person would take 5 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;mins&lt;/span&gt; of taking to me to tell that I should never ever be myself if I am meeting 'The Parents'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So well, I met his parents for the first time during Diwali. We met in a food court (of all places). I am super confident Ms.Loony but then hey it's the guys parents so I was nervous as hell but then I had to be myself as per Mr. Loony so I eased up a bit and started cracking bad jokes under pressure, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;OK &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ok your sniggering is so uncalled for! I agree,&lt;/span&gt; I crack bad jokes without pressure too, but that one time it went totally out of control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. loony in an attempt to show how creative I can get brings out this hand-packed fancy  basket of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;D&lt;/span&gt; goodies that I had gifted to him earlier in the day. His mom in a very prim and proper social response tells me "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Iski&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;kya&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;zaroorat&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;thi&lt;/span&gt; beta." to which myself replies "You are right, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;iski&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;zaroorat&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;nahi&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;hai&lt;/span&gt;." and looking at Mr. Loony I say " &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Wapaas&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt; do &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;isse&lt;/span&gt;." His mother of course looked like someone just told her that she was pregnant at the age ripe age of 55 and would really scream out loud. Mr. Loony being used me myself went on admiring the basket without giving a thought to my foot which was stuck in my mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forever I have been branded by the in laws as the one who has her foot growing from her mouth. This incident has be told and retold to whoever would care to listen, it has been exaggerated to an extent where some of his family members look very disappointed when they meet me and find foot on my leg which is on the ground. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Heh&lt;/span&gt;. So girls please note, being yourself is all dandy but not when you are meeting his parents, when you are meeting his parents only two things should be done; smiling and nodding while looking at the floor. Trust me you will thank me for this one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-5312082084473115877?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/5312082084473115877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=5312082084473115877' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/5312082084473115877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/5312082084473115877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2010/04/just-be-yourself.html' title='Just be yourself'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-6437100757472506762</id><published>2010-04-18T12:20:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-04-18T12:41:14.336+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mr.Loony'/><title type='text'>Why we are not ready to be parents yet</title><content type='html'>It's just been a few months but then lots of people (specially my mom) have been asking us to give them some good news. Of course it's good news for them for us on the other hand having kids will not be such a good news I feel. I know I know I am not getting any younger, post-30 pregnancies can be dangerous blah blah blah, but we really are just not ready to be parents yet. OK, let me give you an example. Generally when I can't sleep I ask my husband the Mr.Loony to tell me a story, he asks me to give him a few characters, generally whatever characters I give him end up having sex and the story ends up as a soft porn boring story. To avoid another soft porn story I chose a lion and a giraffe. Big Mistake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is his story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Many Many years later (he is very futuristic I must tell you) due to global warming the only two surviving animals in the jungle are a lion and a giraffe. The Lion is quite a romantic at heart and very horny too so he realises with the giraffe being the only option around he must woo her. The giraffe is very very old fashioned and needs to be swept off her feet. The horny Lion decides he can do anything for sex, so off he goes wooing the giraffe. After a few song and dance numbers, flowers and gifts, praises and poems the giraffe finally lets the lion kiss her. But now now, the lion can't really jump that high and the giraffe being old fashioned and shy won't come down. So our hero climbs up a really high tree to kiss her. He finds a branch that gives him perfect height, looks into her eyes, swears of his eternal love and just as he is about to kiss her, he slips and falls on her neck killing her instantly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lion looks at the dead giraffe and is heart broken (or an equivalent term for horny plans gone wrong) but then he thinks to himself 'What the hell! It's a good thing I can eat her dead too.' So he feasts upon the giraffe for many a days and is very happy for finding such good food considering there weren't any other animals around because of global warming.&lt;/blockquote&gt;To say that I was disturbed by the story is an understatement. But now I always crack up thinking of this lion who wanted to eat the giraffe dead or alive. Sigh. There you go now, he makes up a sick story and I find it funny, obviously we can't have kids. What kind of kids we would we raise with stories like these.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-6437100757472506762?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/6437100757472506762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=6437100757472506762' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/6437100757472506762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/6437100757472506762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2010/04/why-we-are-not-ready-to-be-parents-yet.html' title='Why we are not ready to be parents yet'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-7366532013385622347</id><published>2010-04-15T23:25:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-04-15T23:26:35.411+05:30</updated><title type='text'>You know you are married when</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;On my sitemeter I noticed that in addition to confused women who ask koschans such as ' If he kisses me am I pregnant' there are others who are even more confused and stupid because they search for koschans such as 'If he puts mangalsutra am I married.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For the benefit of such people , I and a few newly wed friends of mine (which includes my dear ex roomie Ms.Malhotra have compiled a ready reckoner sort of list here.If you answer 'Yes' or nodded sadly in agreement or suddenly go and bang you head on the nearest wall in response to any of the following then my dear reader, I pronounce you married and sacrificed:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You know you are married..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;When you wear the engagement ring, the mangalsutra, the sone ka chudhas, the diamond necklace giving major competition to baapi da, instead of wearing strange jewellery you picked up from random stores or exotic street vendors ;)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;When suddenly your bank balance is in the negative and the chances of it ever going back to it’s pre wedding high are non existent, thanks to the credit card bills. We all waited so long for this day just so that we could use marriage as an excuse to buy the overpriced things.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;When just because you are wearing a saree, mangalsutra and aforementioned jazz young boys and girls can call you aunty and walk away smiling, you also smile back coyly like the perfect newly wed bride when actually underneath that saree and jazz there is the old you which wants to beat them and say ‘Teri maa ki!’ or ‘Aunty kisko bola bey!”&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;When you are judged every now and then, of course the husband had a bee line of eligible women he could have married but he chose you, so you need to be judged against them, the Mehtas' loving daughter who cooks the best chiken tikkas, the Agarwals' daughter who is oh so pretty!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;When suddenly your phone bills drop to 3 digits from 5 digits.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;When you have a mummy and a mummyji at a same social gathering or function and you don’t know whom to give more attention.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;When you go to some random distant cousin’s shaadi wearing a really heavy lehenga giving competition to the bride, just because you wanna use your shaadi ka outfit and you better use it before your newly wed tag is not so new anymore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;When suddenly you have relatives on your facebook friends list, aaaaaaaaaargh, all his aunties and uncles are now your friends and in some cases you actually do have had the courage to not accept their request then keep faking how you never got it!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;When you enthusiastically bend and touch every tom, dick and harry’s feet since they have grey hair and are related to the husband, damn isn’t there any better way to show you respect (and we don’t actually really totally disrespect you then why the hell do we have to show our non existing respect).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;When your ratio of number of meetings with friends and relatives becomes inversely proportional to the one before marriage! &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;When everything you mother in law cooks is 'so yummy! I have to learn this from you!' &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;When instead of going and spending the entire Sunday at the spa followed by a coffee out with friends and a late night movie, you spend it putting your house in order! or instead of wondering which movie to watch at a surprise stay over at your friends place at Bandra, you are wondering what you can cook for dinner!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-7366532013385622347?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/7366532013385622347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=7366532013385622347' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/7366532013385622347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/7366532013385622347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2010/04/you-know-you-are-married-when.html' title='You know you are married when'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-7181958708988708527</id><published>2010-03-16T20:40:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2010-03-16T21:25:15.841+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marriage and such like'/><title type='text'>My Name is my business</title><content type='html'>After I have been married a lot of people (mostly well meaning) have asked me "So what is your name now?" to which I politely reply "I am retaining my maiden name." I have been getting mixed reactions about this, some people shrug it off, some people raise their eyebrows (including my parents!) but the worst kind question my decision. It's one thing to want to know why I decided to retain my maiden name, it's totally another to question my decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, so let me tell you one thing: My name is My business, really, that's surprising huh? I am sure there are plenty of women who go about embracing the hubby's last name or as in our (Sindhi) custom even changing their first name without a thought. I have no opinion or rather I have no time to sit and judge their decision. As for myself, it would kill me. My blog, my email ids (official and personal), visiting cards, passport, bank accounts, trading accounts, assets, insurance policies and what not. Why should I go through the pain of updating so much even if it can be done with minimum effort! I sign Rohra,not Kusum. To me 'Rohra' has a nice ring to it. I've been arguing with hubby that our name plate will read 'His last name and Rohra'. To me Kusum Rohra is a brand. I am not going to change that. My marriage is the most important part of my life, read that properly, it is *the* most important thing in my life, still I see no reason to change my name specially since my loony heart loves it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing wrong with my hubby's last name but I see no logic in giving up mine. If I ever get bored with being a  'Rohra' or feel like I need a change I will change it but that will be my decision and not something that comes in the package when one marries.So people who think  that a woman who is old enough to make her own people can't take her own decision about her  name, let me kindly ask you to shut the eff up. Thank you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-7181958708988708527?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/7181958708988708527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=7181958708988708527' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/7181958708988708527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/7181958708988708527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-name-is-my-business.html' title='My Name is my business'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-5463987032399022766</id><published>2009-12-23T00:50:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-23T01:17:21.975+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me Myself and Loony'/><title type='text'>Messing Around</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://thebloggess.com/?p=4528"&gt;This super hilarious pos&lt;/a&gt;t reminded me of how &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;facebook&lt;/span&gt; also tries to mess with me. I mean have you guys noticed sometimes on the right hand side it produces the picture of the most meek in your friend's list and asks you to 'Poke him'! I do not want to poke any of my friends, stab with a steely knife maybe, but poke, never.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;helloooo&lt;/span&gt; just because I occasionally hit the husband doesn't mean I am violent, on the contrary I am very very non violent and docile.I don't get the poking bit at all, why poke? I mean I can understand stab with a steely knife or tie around a pole and electrocute , or *eyes shining* dip in boiling water er sorry I got carried away, what good is a simple poke I ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there is the other ads it has, from the friend list it will pick the most irritating person and it will as to reconnect with him. I get online on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;at least&lt;/span&gt; for 10 minutes daily and still if I have chosen to not connect to that person there is a reason. Then there are other irritating things &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt; says, '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Say hello&lt;/span&gt;', '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Help her find her friends&lt;/span&gt;' er no thanks, '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Share the latest news&lt;/span&gt;' there is NO news and so on and so forth, these social networking sites have their &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;leetal&lt;/span&gt; ways of messing around, don't they.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-5463987032399022766?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/5463987032399022766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=5463987032399022766' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/5463987032399022766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/5463987032399022766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2009/12/messing-around.html' title='Messing Around'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-1788607380345244817</id><published>2009-12-20T16:25:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-20T16:41:35.083+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me Myself and Loony'/><title type='text'>Mind games</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;7.00 am:  it's 7.00 am already!! :( &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; so I have to get up make breakfast, make lunch, pack our snacks *deep sigh* but I feel like a zombie *&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;zzzzzzzzz&lt;/span&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.10 am: I really should get up now, I have to reach work by 9.30, finish the damn &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;thingie&lt;/span&gt; I am working on by 11.00 am. Just the thought of being at work is making me sleepy *&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;zzzzzzzzzz&lt;/span&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.15 am: Er, if I make Dal and Rice, instead of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;subji&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;roti&lt;/span&gt; for lunch and ask the hubby to make breakfast then I can sleep another 10 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;mins&lt;/span&gt; :) decided then, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;dal&lt;/span&gt; and rice it is :) *&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;zzzzzz&lt;/span&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.18 am: But it's not good, I am becoming very very lazy and taking too bloody much advantage of the hubby, God I feel like I haven't slept at all! *&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;zzzzzzzzz&lt;/span&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.21 am: Wait a min!! I really haven't slept much, what time did we go to bed last night? 5.00 am or 5.30 am, I really need to stop watching movies all night, *sigh* how do I get myself out of bed now *&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;zzzzzzzzzz&lt;/span&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.25 am: Wait a min! I saw movies all night, all night? Er, why, er it was a Saturday, so today is Sunday so er I can *&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;zzzzzzzzzz&lt;/span&gt;* ...... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;YAY&lt;/span&gt; *&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;zzzzz&lt;/span&gt;* &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;YAY&lt;/span&gt; *&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;zzzzzz&lt;/span&gt;* &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;YAY&lt;/span&gt; *&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;zzzzzzzzz&lt;/span&gt;* * turned around and hugged the sound asleep husband*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.30 am: But anyways must make husband make breakfast and lunch and dinner, taking advantage is must for a healthy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;marriage&lt;/span&gt; *&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;zzzzzzzzzzz&lt;/span&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such an torturous half an hour I spent early Sunday morning all because my mind which is not supposed to be existing in the first place lost track of what day it was :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-1788607380345244817?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/1788607380345244817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=1788607380345244817' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/1788607380345244817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/1788607380345244817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2009/12/mind-games.html' title='Mind games'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-3339768587743989374</id><published>2009-12-19T02:07:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-19T02:37:30.911+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movies'/><title type='text'>Avatar - A Must-Mast watch</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Everyone loves the story of good winning over evil, even the sarcastic smart asses do, ram winning over &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ravana&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;pandavas&lt;/span&gt; defeating the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;kauravas&lt;/span&gt;, harry potter beats the crap out of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Voldemort&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Bhuvan&lt;/span&gt; and team beat &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;gora's&lt;/span&gt; at their own game, so Avatar is a simple story of the age old good winning over evil, so what makes it special? The very very colourful  and vibrant visuals, the stunning frames and the very much present Hindi-movie type of surety that hero hi &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;jitega&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;James Cameron has done what &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Valmiki&lt;/span&gt; did long long back, he took a simple story, added stunning visuals and made it much lovable. I doubt if &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Valmiki&lt;/span&gt; were to remove the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;vanar&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;sena&lt;/span&gt;(the army of the monkeys), the super powers of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Hanuman&lt;/span&gt;, the very visually evil 10 heads of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;ravana&lt;/span&gt;, the small stories in the big story, the flying saucer type of vehicles of  the Gods, would it be interesting as it is today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Avatar has all the standard must haves for a good V/s evil story, common forces unite against the evil forces, one face to face good  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;dishoom&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;dishoom&lt;/span&gt; between the bad and the good guy, one strong leading lady to support the Good guy, (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;un&lt;/span&gt;)expected help thrown in from super powers to whom ardent prayers have been offered by the common forces and a special prayer from the good guy. Even then it's a must watch, the visuals are that good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weekend has begun on a very good note for us, hope you guys have a good weekend too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-3339768587743989374?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/3339768587743989374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=3339768587743989374' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/3339768587743989374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/3339768587743989374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2009/12/avatar-must-mast-watch.html' title='Avatar - A Must-Mast watch'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-2597552109713211530</id><published>2009-12-16T18:43:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-16T20:33:00.384+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='In Laws'/><title type='text'>The look</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;You raise an eyebrow, you purse your lips, sometimes you roll your eyes and take a deep breath. At other times you heave a deep sigh and look away, you know how to widen eyes very  subtly but dramatically, so basically you know how to give Khunnas a.k.a the look without speaking a word. You are every woman. Most of the days when the hubby is being himself I just give him one of my looks, environmental friendly you see, I am conserving my energy.But then the problem is in the pitch dark at night when the hubby is still yak yakking and making bad jokes we go something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hubby: You know I am smarter than you.&lt;br /&gt;Me: *silence * *sigh*&lt;br /&gt;Hubby: In fact you can never be as smart as I am.&lt;br /&gt;Me: *One eyebrow raised* *pursing of lips*&lt;br /&gt;Hubby: You do know that I can't see you so whatever look you are giving me; it's wasted.&lt;br /&gt;Me(since getting up and switching on the light for him to see 'the look' will be too much of an effort): *kicks him in the tush*&lt;br /&gt;Hubby: Of course you are smarter and more intelligent, I am just beginning to develop a strange sense of humour, I don't really know what is wrong with me. *sobbing meekly*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now let's get to the point of the post (finally!). During my brief stay with the in laws at one of the lunches, hubby was sitting right next to me, chomping away. I totally hate people who make a chomping noise when they eat, but I am with the in laws, I can't look up and yell at him, can't kick his tush, such unjust restrain of emotions.  Ah! But to the rescue comes my environmentally friendly looks, ever so subtly I widened my eyes to express my displeasure and looked down immediately like a shy new bride and fluttered my eyelashes smiling coyly.  My very attentive husband, who happens to the man of my dreams as in everything I liked about him is now a dream, totally missed my signal, but it didn't go unnoticed, well the ma in law saw it and quickly reprimanded me in her quintessential I-am-the-ma-in-law tone,  "Well I noticed he makes that chomping noise, but I feel I should just let him be so that he can enjoy his food." I was shell shocked that she noticed my ever so subtle, blink-and-you-miss signal to the husband. Ah! Mother in laws.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-2597552109713211530?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/2597552109713211530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=2597552109713211530' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/2597552109713211530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/2597552109713211530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2009/12/look.html' title='The look'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-3343638685809858268</id><published>2009-11-28T01:46:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-28T02:25:41.131+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movies'/><title type='text'>Kurbaan = Friday Night ruined</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Warning: Spoilers ahead, so read this post to save your money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had booked tickets for De Dana Dan for the much awaited Friday night, since husband and I are in Chennai we have too many options for the weekend,  however we ditch all those options and choose to see bad movies.The very snooty husband told me De Dana Dan was trashed badly so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;in spite&lt;/span&gt; of my intelligence and prior bad experiences on taking his advice, well I sold my tickets to De Dana Dan and bought tickets for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kurbaan&lt;/span&gt; and along with it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kurbaan&lt;/span&gt;-ed a Friday night and my money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't people like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Karan&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Johar&lt;/span&gt;  stick to their core (in)competencies. Song,dance, clothes, location. At least people know that it's a song-dance routine and just chill. Is it too much to ask?What exactly was the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;point&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Karan&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Johar&lt;/span&gt; tried to make with his story? Anybody? The movie obviously was a joke from the moment &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Vivek&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Oberoi&lt;/span&gt; with his very bad acting decided to deal with the terrorist gang himself instead of alerting the authorities. I mean really, what the hell was the point of the movie? In this one particular scene Om &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Puri&lt;/span&gt; is to drink coffee when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Kirrrrron&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Kher&lt;/span&gt; stops him and says "oi, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;tumko&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;diabities&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;hai&lt;/span&gt; and coffee main &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;cheeni&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;hai&lt;/span&gt;.....blah blah blah' I think the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;scence&lt;/span&gt; would have been better if she said "Oi, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;tumko&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;diabities&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;hai&lt;/span&gt; and coffee main &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;cheeni&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;hai&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;tumhe&lt;/span&gt; bomb blast main &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;marna&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;hai&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;diabitites&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;se&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;marega&lt;/span&gt; to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;tumhe&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;jannat&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;nahi&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;milegi&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To add to the anger and confusion I was feeling while watching the movie, (anger because I am sure no matter how bad it was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;dana&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;dan&lt;/span&gt; could never have been as bad as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;Kurban&lt;/span&gt; and confused because I kept hoping that may be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;D'Silva&lt;/span&gt; tried to add something to the movie and maybe there was a point to it after all) was just aggravated in the interval, the lady who used the loo right before I entered had wet the entire seat. I stepped out and asked her how can she just leave the seat all wet. To which she said it was already wet. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;Grrrrrr&lt;/span&gt;. When we were leaving the theatre, I saw her walking on the sidewalk and yelled out to her "Dirty &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;unhygienic&lt;/span&gt; woman!!" The hubby has disowned me after that, but then it's time somebody yelled at idiots like that.  We should put pictures of these people in public places and ban their entry. If you don't have basic civic sense then bloody nonsense you stay at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I would complete trash this movie, a word of praise for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;Kareena&lt;/span&gt; and her make up man are a must. She acted the best I guess and her make - up well oh la la &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;au&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;naturale&lt;/span&gt;' . So there if you think the movie is still worth watching than I am damn sure its only because of the ( love-making scene! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;Hmpf&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-3343638685809858268?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/3343638685809858268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=3343638685809858268' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/3343638685809858268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/3343638685809858268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2009/11/kurbaan-friday-night-ruined.html' title='Kurbaan = Friday Night ruined'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-2271339907651432690</id><published>2009-11-22T17:00:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-03T20:05:32.088+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me Myself and Loony'/><title type='text'>The Menu for the week in Rohra's Kitchen</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_neK70GpFWTM/SxfMGn7AQ0I/AAAAAAAACS0/MYwBiy0b5a4/s1600-h/IMG_7695.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_neK70GpFWTM/SxfMGn7AQ0I/AAAAAAAACS0/MYwBiy0b5a4/s400/IMG_7695.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411017891476685634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I am a working housewife (do you realise how much I harp on this, full footage I want from the fact that I slog so much to earn money for buying diamonds and feed the husband to make him fat and ready for the kill. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;heh&lt;/span&gt;) I like to try and make sure I can cook in the least required time. If you have cooked 4 meals a day, regularly and are looking for adding variety then you know that one of the toughest and time consuming activities is deciding the menu and to avoid wasting time in this activity I hereby present to you the 'Menu of the week' hung carefully on our fridge with my lovely fridge magnets :) This saves me time every day and is handy every &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Saturday&lt;/span&gt; when I am shopping for the coming week. I know, I know what you all want to say; What an idea &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;loonyji&lt;/span&gt; * smiling from ear to ear *&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-2271339907651432690?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/2271339907651432690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=2271339907651432690' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/2271339907651432690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/2271339907651432690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2009/11/menu-for-week-in-rohras-kitchen.html' title='The Menu for the week in Rohra&apos;s Kitchen'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_neK70GpFWTM/SxfMGn7AQ0I/AAAAAAAACS0/MYwBiy0b5a4/s72-c/IMG_7695.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-7222674711567609277</id><published>2009-11-12T16:21:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-12T17:08:22.683+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The other Loonies'/><title type='text'>Santo and Banto</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Long long back I was blessed by this &lt;a href="http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2008/08/real-estate-broker-with-deep-interest.html"&gt;mysterious charm&lt;/a&gt; due to which all the room-mates were getting married leaving me behind on a long and tiring room-mate search. When I moved out of my parents' house for the first time I moved in with couple of my colleagues who now are my best friends, since I was lucky to have them as my first roomies the thought that room-mates can make your life hell too never crossed my mind until both of them got married and I moved into Palm villa where the roomies &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;made&lt;/span&gt; my life hell. So after these women left (thankfully) I was very sore from the experience and decided to scrutinise the next girl moving in very very closely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;One evening I get a call from this punju girl, we decided to meet close to my house. I being the loony I am reached 15 mins late and the poor Santo stood there waiting for me. When I finally reached there she had this lovely smile on her face, I was surprised I was expecting her to make a face or at least get pissed silently instead there she stood smiling. Once we reached home and settled and spoke to each other I knew she was the one ( I know it's sounding like I was looking for a spouse but believe me finding a good room-mate is just the same )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She asked all the relevant and important questions 'Where is the nearest theatre?', 'Where is the nearest mall?' when I told her how she easily get a bus to her work she said "Bus is good, but don't we get rickshaws from here? Just that I am too lazy to take the bus."  She didn't bore me with the regular questions like Do you drink? (I have a post coming up on this stupid question) Do you smoke? Do guys come here? How do we split the expenses? Those question would be sensible  but heck, what can be more sensible than theatres and malls?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I approved of her in fact I sent her desperate smses to  move in and then what followed was total fun. First memory of her to me was changing the pale off white curtains we had in our house, they were very classy but classy wlassy is one thing but having life and colour is another, so we got bright red curtains for the house. Next thing we got plants, next we got round pillows to rest our lazy selves while watching tv. Just like that one night she says Ms. Rohra if we had round pillows on our royal mattresses wouldn't it be very comfortable? Off we went in our sleeping clothes to get round pillows, sorry I mean the cheapest available round pillows, we were after all broke but surprisingly never to broke to buy totally unnecessary but wonderful things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now we had colour, life, comfort et al in our cosy little house in palm villa :) Both were broke thanks to our shopoholic-ness but did we stop? No. We shopped for small little things to make it more of a home than any. Thanks to her I fell into love with colours :) the roomies before her wouldn't spend Rs.50 extra bucks on the maid to dust the house!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now my favourite memories of her and me are of our super lazy days. We would sit our tushies in front of the t.v. for dinner, finish our dinner and then without even washing our hands would go from sitting to sleeping and watching t.v till we HAD to go to our rooms. and call it a night Other times we would watch back to back episodes of friends taking turns to change the CDs. That to us was a very tiring exercise. I remember one Sunday morning or rather afternoon we woke up and since we couldn't decide which one of us could make coffee, we just went to Hyatt to have breakfast. Ah, Hyatt the place where a huge % of our salaries were spent thanks to our love for their pizzas and disregard for our wallets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here is this post to thank the wonderful roomie who made life fun, coloured it with brightness, shopped with me no matter what the capacity of the wallet and most of all was their during the toughest part of my life and somehow helped me through it. Here is the two of us at one of our favourite places in good old Mumbai 'Prithvi theatre'  which was only 30 mins away from our home :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_neK70GpFWTM/Svvx5yflTHI/AAAAAAAACRs/WMcivxVAy5Q/s1600-h/Santo%26Banto.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 221px; height: 166px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_neK70GpFWTM/Svvx5yflTHI/AAAAAAAACRs/WMcivxVAy5Q/s400/Santo%26Banto.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403178153070120050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;P.S: The title of this post is keeping the spirit of people in mind :) She Banto; the happy punjaban) me Santo; the er healthy  like a punjaban ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-7222674711567609277?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/7222674711567609277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=7222674711567609277' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/7222674711567609277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/7222674711567609277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2009/11/santo-and-banto.html' title='Santo and Banto'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_neK70GpFWTM/Svvx5yflTHI/AAAAAAAACRs/WMcivxVAy5Q/s72-c/Santo%26Banto.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-5678448534691136057</id><published>2009-11-09T19:04:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-09T20:06:47.818+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Memories of the Single life'/><title type='text'>Chai Time in Palm Villa</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The best thing about being married so far has been the husband's desktop. It has a 19' monitor, just right for the aging and semi blind me. A very typical morning in the Rohra and Advani house has us; the loony couple, sitting on our very sweet built for two breakfast table hogging on our hearty breakfasts. Perfect you would think? Wait till you hear this. *singing tadna tadna tadna tadddddna * The loony husband *pauses for effect * &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; drink tea or coffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which means on the lovely breakfast table, eating our hearty breakfast there is this  awful  disconnect! I drink my pudina chai and he drinks his * cringes her nose * Bournvita. So you see we haven't really bonded yet. What do we bond over? Over BOURNVITA, really? I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;am&lt;/span&gt; loony but not that much, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yet&lt;/span&gt;. Anyways, in the evenings too when I do come home at a decent hour, I sit with my lonely cup in front of the desktop pinging ex roomies about how much I miss our chai sessions together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That brings me to the 'Chai time in Palm Villa'. Palm Villa was the apartment I stayed for the last 2-3 years of my single life * sigh * how much I miss it. Enjoying chai in the morning or after a hard day of work, was a ritual in our house, all the roomies, Vineeta desai, Swapnagangha Joshi (the one who got me addicted to pudina chai), Raji, Rubina Chowdhury (the Bengal tigress cum singaporean babe who used to have black tea/coffee right before sleeping), Pranati Mohapatra (who lives geographically the closest now and hence MUST drop in for tea sometime after all Bangalore is not that far from Chennai)  and last but not in the bit least Vidhi Malhotra were into it like it was a cult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all respected the chai time so much that we could give up anything to be at home at the chai time. Poor Malhotra worked the farthest from home and so would miss the chai session in the evenings. So one Friday I get a call from this very chirrpy, happy sounding punjaban saying "Ms. Rohra, I have finally managed to reach home before you, let me know when you are about to reach, main chai chadda dungi" I could almost hear her grin away happily, to which I very very sadly replied "Ms. Malhotra, I am stuck at work and doesn't look like I will make it anytime soon." The very optimistic Malhotra reminded me it was weekend so no matter how late I got home we would have chai. She kept smsing me in between expecting an Main-aa-rahi-hun reply however I only got home in time for dinner and the chai time that evening was Qurban corporate slavery ke naam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next day morning I had to go to work whereas a very peaceful Malhotra lay sleeping (one of her favourite things to do in the whole world), before leaving I just nudged her a bit asking "I am making some tea would you want some." She just nodded a no sleepily. As I was about to make tea suddenly she come running and says, "I have been waiting to have tea with you since yesterday! Akele toh chai achi nahi lagegi, I can always sleep again after you go, bring it on ji." and thats exactly what she did, she had chai and went back to sleep. Such is the importance of having tea with some people around you. Having chai just doesn't feel right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-5678448534691136057?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/5678448534691136057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=5678448534691136057' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/5678448534691136057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/5678448534691136057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2009/11/chai-time-in-palm-villa.html' title='Chai Time in Palm Villa'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-263004971144958487</id><published>2009-09-06T10:21:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-06T10:54:24.513+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me Myself and Loony'/><title type='text'>Thoughts of a dying bride-to-be</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Last time I was to come to Indonesia, I had to postpone my trip by a few days since one of my pre-marital ceremonies, the lover boy's birthday and his thread ceremony all were during that same week. The very same floor for which I was booked in the Marriot was blown up in a bomb blast. Had I not postponed my trip I would have died. Scary. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This month during my second visit while I was in a meeting, suddenly I looked up to notice that the Operations Head of my client's team was under her desk. I must say I love Indonesian people for their little quirks but this was a little too much so I yelled at her saying "Hey is that a new operatinal process?" to which she replied "NO! this is an earhtquake". Holy smoke! Only then did I realise the tremors, my foundation is too strong and my weight too much , you can't easily shake me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Within seconds we were evacuating the building, coming down from the 12th floor by stairs. There was a pregnant lady right in front of me so there was no running and people respected her speed and didn't panic. By the time we reached the 8th floor the tremors were still strong and the building swayed merrily. We noticed paint cracking on the walls of the under construction building we were in. Thats it. Thats when I choked knowing I would be dying for sure in that massive glass house.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So what do you think would be your last thoughts if you knew you were gonna die? Would you think of your family? Your lover? Would you be thinking of God? I don't know, but the first thought that came to my mind was 'My God, the many hajaar rupees Lehenga that I have bought for my wedding reception would go waste now.' Talk about being loony. Well the next I am calculating my life Insurance amount and wondering if natural calamity is covered by my policies *Notes down: Check your bloody policies woman! * &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;By the time I reached the ground floor I had calculated the amount, I had to just add the sum assured in the two policies I hold, but with the world trembling under my feet it took a very long time to do that :). When we were standing in the emergency assembly area we could still feel the earth trembling under us. I wondered if it was a figment of my imagination but people around confirmed the ground still grumbled. I have been told this was the longest the tremors have lasted in a very very long time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Once it all settled down and I was back in my hotel room on the 31st floor in the very comfortable Mulia Senayan, I wondered how would I ever get down to some safe level if something were to happen again. My knees buclked up thinking of the tremors * phew* For now it is business as usual. But what is it with Indonesia? It's a nice place. The people are slow and easy, generally very peaceful. So why is it that every visit of mine is marked by life threathing events such as bomb blasts or earthquakes? I think that by the time this project goes live I will surely die in one of such incidents and my lovely lehenga would indeed be wasted * sobbing meekly*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-263004971144958487?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/263004971144958487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=263004971144958487' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/263004971144958487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/263004971144958487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2009/09/thoughts-of-dying-bride-to-be.html' title='Thoughts of a dying bride-to-be'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-6973515343574443906</id><published>2009-08-22T23:20:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-22T23:20:44.507+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me Myself and Loony'/><title type='text'>Waah Taj</title><content type='html'>In about a month I would be getting married, so as a very demure and shy (get rid of the grin people) bride-to-be I thought it is necessary to book a super sexy place for the wedding night. My first choice was a place in town, I just love South Mumbai. But travelling to the domestic airport for flying the next day to the honeymoon destination * trying to blush * from South Mumbai can be a pain, hence after careful consideration of various things (read king size bed and sea view) that are to be considered for booking a good place for the wedding night I decided Taj lands End was a good option. As a true sindhi I wanted to see if I could get some good offer. Their website lists too many option to be useful hence I decided calling them would be the best way to get a good deal. Ha!&lt;br /&gt;The shy demure bride-to-be: Hi I am Kusum, I would like to book a room for my wedding night, I would like to know if you have some good offer going on for a two night stay.&lt;br /&gt;After going through the endless useless offers the conversion came to the most useful and relevant offer Taj could have:&lt;br /&gt;Person on the reservation desk: Hi Kusum, we have another offer (for the sake of simplicity let's call it WAAH TAJ.) which will be very good for your wedding night stay.&lt;br /&gt;Me(feeling very excited and shy as well): Great what all does it include?&lt;br /&gt;POTRD: Free use of the club facilities such as gymnasium, sauna etc.&lt;br /&gt;Me(feeling very disappointed that the POTRD too is pushing me to the gym): What else does it include?&lt;br /&gt;POTRD: Choice of newspaper's&lt;br /&gt;That's it, I was laughing so hard in my head I could not hear what she said after that, I mean what the hell is wrong with these people. Why exactly would a offer which gives you your choice of newspapers and free use of the gymnasium would be relevant or even useful to a couple on their wedding night!! Isn't that supposed to be relevant after the fourth day of the honeymoon? He will read the paper and I will go work out in the gym. At least for the first four days and no more, with the way things are four days should be enough for us to realise saala kidhar phaas gaye hum ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend suggested that I could make exotic lingerie out of the newspapers, but then I realised if I do that the chances of the hubby falling asleep while trying to read a lingerie are quiet high and then just out of frustration I might actually hit the gym. Heh heh, so for now Waah Taj is surely a No Taj for me. Any good ideas from you my dear readers which do not include newspapers and gym?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-6973515343574443906?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/6973515343574443906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=6973515343574443906' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/6973515343574443906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/6973515343574443906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2009/08/waah-taj.html' title='Waah Taj'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-6308127960900755172</id><published>2009-05-18T23:51:00.010+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-19T00:38:09.023+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me Myself and Loony'/><title type='text'>My last birthday as a Miss</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_neK70GpFWTM/ShGqkHLAQ0I/AAAAAAAABts/2r54npDlm2A/s1600-h/Carnations.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337234570787963714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_neK70GpFWTM/ShGqkHLAQ0I/AAAAAAAABts/2r54npDlm2A/s400/Carnations.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Since my marriage is planned for later this year, today is my last birthday as a single, sexy, smart, superra (I went to chennai, remember?), sweet, sensational, lovely, most amazing, superra (oh I already said that one) OK I'll stop here stop rolling your eyes people! I must say it's been one of the best birthday ever. It began with a lovely bowl full of pink carnations and a cake being delivered at my door ordered by the lover-boy-soon-to-be-husband from Chennai and ended with dinner at Hyatt, the place where I've religiously donated most of my salary month on month. I have a strong feeling the lover boy is being naughty and is dating some madrasi chick in Chennai, I see no other reason for him to send my favourite flowers and a cake, our marriage is fixed and he is a sindhi! Only an affair would explain such behaviour on his part. I will surely get to the bottom of this *rubbing chin and eating gajar in karamchand style *. Anyhoo another most lovely surprise was a treasure hunt my friend who is staying over at my place organised. She handed me the first chit which has the clue for the second chit and so on and so forth I ran around my house looking for my gift which turned out to be a very sweet idol of Radha Krishna which she hopes I will keep in my new house as a married madrasi auntie :) without such friends where would we be now!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As if friends and family weren't enough even strangers made my day. Congress did their best to surprise me, but I had sort of anticipated the rise in Sensex. So here is me saying cheers to my last birthday as a Miss. I will Miss thee my dear single hood. Here is one more picture of the lovely Carnations coloured with the cheating boyfriends guilt. The image quality is not too great as it's taken on my new cell phone which is again gifted by the lover boy, wait a minute, I can see clearly now, he definitely is cheating on me! *jumping with joy * If he is cheating on me, maybe my single hood won't end after all! YAY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_neK70GpFWTM/ShGvMuyxWBI/AAAAAAAABuE/kf7LNhj9sXI/s1600-h/18052009(001).jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337239666665019410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_neK70GpFWTM/ShGvMuyxWBI/AAAAAAAABuE/kf7LNhj9sXI/s400/18052009(001).jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_neK70GpFWTM/ShGuK_Q1R5I/AAAAAAAABt8/f_TtGxQzk-Q/s1600-h/18052009(001).jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-6308127960900755172?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/6308127960900755172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=6308127960900755172' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/6308127960900755172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/6308127960900755172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-last-birthday-as-miss.html' title='My last birthday as a Miss'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_neK70GpFWTM/ShGqkHLAQ0I/AAAAAAAABts/2r54npDlm2A/s72-c/Carnations.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-37592567338603501</id><published>2009-03-16T16:01:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-16T23:47:40.135+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me Myself and Loony'/><title type='text'>Guide to survival in Chennai- Part 1</title><content type='html'>The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;bindaas&lt;/span&gt; bum-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;baiya&lt;/span&gt; er that is me is stuck in Chennai to spend sometime with the love of my life. * sigh * of all places I am in Chennai on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;holi&lt;/span&gt;. However instead of being sullen I decided to make the most of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;sambhar&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;idli&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;vada&lt;/span&gt; situation I am in. My parents always gush about how I was a very fast learner and keeping up to my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;bachpan&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ka&lt;/span&gt; habits I am learning very fast to survive in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;chennai&lt;/span&gt; too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the most difficult thing about being in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;chennai&lt;/span&gt; is dealing with the dark, sweaty, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;lungi&lt;/span&gt; clad auto rickshaw drivers here. But ha! in just a few days I have learnt to deal with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Consider this dialogue today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Besant&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Nagar&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Murugan&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Idli&lt;/span&gt; shop &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;pagatla&lt;/span&gt;. (Meaning close &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Besang&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;nagar&lt;/span&gt; close to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;murugan&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;idli&lt;/span&gt; shop)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Auto driver: Something in Tamil which I suppose means: oh you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;bleedhy&lt;/span&gt; Hindi speaking nut I will take you to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;besant&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;nagar&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Ayevalo&lt;/span&gt; (Meaning how much)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Auto driver: Fifty rupees madam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: * Giving auto driver a look that you would give to a kid who has just peed on you favourite newly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;vaccumed&lt;/span&gt; rug * &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Tch&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;roomba&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;jaasti&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Auto driver: Something in Tamil which I think means: Oh come on! You look like you are from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;mumbai&lt;/span&gt;, you pay such heavy rents there, why can't you just shut up and pay the exorbitant charges I am asking you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: * Still giving him the look which says you disappoint me bugger * No, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;roomba&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;jaasti&lt;/span&gt;. Rs.30 Only.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Auto driver: Something in Tamil which I think means : You are such a mean lady. You can spend on Channel and MAC but you would not support my drinking and I just drink the cheapest stuff available at the local &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;liquor&lt;/span&gt; store!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: (By this time I get irritated) &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;Poda&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;poda&lt;/span&gt;! (Which means get lost you bugger )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Auto driver: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; Rs.30.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;Heheheh&lt;/span&gt; you see? I have not become proficient in such bargaining that I have managed to save total of Rs.55 in about a week of me being here, if I stay longer I might just end up saving &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;enuff&lt;/span&gt; to buy my own car. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;Heh&lt;/span&gt;! So people the step by step survival techniques can be obtained from the above mentioned conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Step 1: No matter how much the auto quotes you need to give him a very stern * you disappoint me * look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Step 2: No matter what happens you need to bring down the rate by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;at least&lt;/span&gt; 40 to 50%&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Step 3: No matter what happens please do not say &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;poda&lt;/span&gt; my Tamil speaking friends have been trying to explain that it is highly insulting specially if it come from women that too beautiful women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy travelling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-37592567338603501?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/37592567338603501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=37592567338603501' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/37592567338603501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/37592567338603501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2009/03/guide-to-survival-in-chennai-part-1.html' title='Guide to survival in Chennai- Part 1'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-4765195885921488645</id><published>2009-03-13T13:09:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-13T13:31:17.227+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me Myself and Loony'/><title type='text'>Certified Loony</title><content type='html'>I think I am ready to be thrown in one of the loony bins now. Friends who know me know my love for shopping and also my extreme love for shopping &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;knick&lt;/span&gt; knacks for my er non existing house (as of now). I have a closet full of these sweet little things that cost some sweet money. I have these jewelry boxes I picked up in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kodai&lt;/span&gt;, small knitted scissor cases I picked up from Chennai, fancy wall hangings and the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;loveliest&lt;/span&gt; small show pieces I picked in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Faridabad&lt;/span&gt;, I have even bought small little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;kullhars&lt;/span&gt; for tea from Calcutta.All to be used when I buy a house fancy enough to use all these collectibles. * sigh * You get the drift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I think I went to far. While browsing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;through&lt;/span&gt; Victoria Technical Institute in Chennai, I fell in love with couple of cute little pink vests for new born baby girls. Now I am not anywhere close to having kids in the next 5 years but still I almost bought them thinking I can always store them for the next 5 years and if I have a baby boy instead of a girl I can always dress him in those cute pink vests with lovely pink handcrafted lace and small &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;rabbits&lt;/span&gt; in the centre. * sigh * Someone &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;pliss&lt;/span&gt; throw me in a loony bin before I end up buying stuff I will use couple of decades from now, I am running out of storage space!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-4765195885921488645?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/4765195885921488645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=4765195885921488645' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/4765195885921488645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/4765195885921488645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2009/03/certified-loony.html' title='Certified Loony'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-86712449752242283</id><published>2009-02-22T20:57:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2009-02-22T21:32:43.257+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movies'/><title type='text'>Motorola and ram leela 6</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I think that's what they should have named Delhi 6. Such terrible terrible movie. I am surprised that this movie has got so many good reviews. Unbelievable. I wonder if it is really a good movie and there is something wrong with me for having hated it so much! Dear readers please tell me you hated the movie as well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I had come back from a wedding in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Faridabad&lt;/span&gt;, for which I travelled through Delhi but didn't get a chance to see it or meet the mad momma. Something about the city was lovely, maybe it was the wide roads and narrow rickshaws peddled by men or the lovely cold weather. So I already had Delhi on my mind and then I heard the song which says 'Ye &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;shehar&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;nahi&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;mehfil&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;hai&lt;/span&gt;' . That's it. I had to see Delhi 6. When I think of it now, I hate being so overtly sentimental and enthusiastic about a line in a song. After seeing this movie I have images of ram &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;leela&lt;/span&gt; running all year long at all possible places in Delhi and people running around clicking away on their &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Motorolas&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The day before I saw this awful Motorola's advertisement of a movie, I saw the movie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;billu&lt;/span&gt;. Let me tell you it's very difficult to decide which one is worse! My lost faith in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;bollywood&lt;/span&gt; just got lost some more. The only thing good about the movie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Billu&lt;/span&gt; was the dinner we had before it. I went for this movie with my looniest friends who never leave on time due to which we had to get parcels from subway etc and eat it in the rickshaw. Occasionally with my mouth full from a huge bite of the chicken &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;sheekh&lt;/span&gt; sandwich and my face covered with thousand island dressing I would yell at the driver "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Bhaiya&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;jaldi&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;chalao&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;humari&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;bahut&lt;/span&gt; important meeting &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;hai&lt;/span&gt;!" Fine dining it was.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Tired of me badgering him to drive fast he asked "Meeting &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;hai&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;ke&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;koi&lt;/span&gt; show &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;hai&lt;/span&gt;." to which I replied "Meeting &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;hai&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;bhiya&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Shahrukh&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;ke&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;saath&lt;/span&gt;." I must say it was terrible meeting both &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;Shahrukh&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;Abhishek&lt;/span&gt;. I want my money back and some diamonds too as compensation :(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-86712449752242283?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/86712449752242283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=86712449752242283' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/86712449752242283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/86712449752242283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2009/02/motorola-and-ram-leela-6.html' title='Motorola and ram leela 6'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-7060394513705714577</id><published>2009-02-04T07:55:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-02-04T16:18:05.228+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me Myself and Loony'/><title type='text'>Loony Train Accident</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I always have had a strong feeling that some freaks up there watch me all the time and every now and then they decide to have a laugh or two at my expense. Long ago, in the comforatable land called parent's home, I was a princess, I travelled in a private rickshaw to school and my college was very close to home so there had been no exposure to travelling in Mumbai's local train, which according to me is not a mode of transport but some experiment conducted by highly frustrated aliens. One evening a friend of mine Anju* (another princess like me) and I were returning from a friend's house which was close to the Ulhasnagar station, instead of walking all the way over to the station and crossing the bridge we decided to cross the railway tracks . Now no sensible person should cross the tracks so it would be safe to say we qualified to cross the railway tracks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It was late in the evening and there were no lights on the tracks. Now Ulhasnagar station has two railway tracks with little space between them and almost no space on the sides. As we walked ahead we realised that there was a train coming on the track we were walking on. We quickly ran onto the other track only to realise there was a train coming on that one too. In a fit of confusion we stupid girls jumped onto the side instead of lying low in the space between the two tracks. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;On the side that we were standing was a small gutter and the only way we wouldn't be hit by the train was our standing in the gutter. Anju being the sensible smart princess jumped right in to save her life and I being the loony princess thought it would be better to be run over by the train then stand in the gutter. Hmph. *slaps people who rolled their eyes *&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So now the freaks watching me don't like the attitude, they feel it is their prime duty to teach me that 'Jaan hai toh Jahaan hai' (Loose translation: The world is if there is life, er or something like that, anyways I said loose translation, didn't I?) As the train approached Anju shrieked and begged me to step into the gutter, but I refused steadfastly. Her highness would not step into dirty gutter! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The train kept coming closer and closer till it was in my face and the railing of the train hit me first and put me off balance and zhhhhhhhooooooop I dived head first into the gutter * slaps people clapping at the unexpected turn of events * I survived unhurt, not a single broken bone, not a single scratch but fully soaking in the gutter in which I refused to set my lovely feet in. Now I have learnt my lesson no point in avoiding little troubles of life as the people watching me from above will throw me right and very deep into them if I resist. So troubles are now met with a lovely smile and a quick jump :) and it goes without saying I always well almost always use the bridge to cross over a station.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-7060394513705714577?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/7060394513705714577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=7060394513705714577' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/7060394513705714577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/7060394513705714577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2009/02/loony-train-accident.html' title='Loony Train Accident'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-1715546616247169196</id><published>2009-01-12T18:17:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2010-04-02T13:24:13.198+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me Myself and Loony'/><title type='text'>My Tom Ford Mangalsutra</title><content type='html'>One bright morning a very sweet room-mate of mine came back from the kitchen looking sad and exasperated. According to me our kitchen is a place which people generally are very happy to visit, so I asked her the reason for her exasperation she replied, “This new room-mate doesn’t understand my jokes.” Most sad situation to be in I must say, when you crack a silly pj and have to explain it to people! Kills you.The least people should do is pretend to find  your pjs funny! Apparently this sweet room-mate who happens to be a deadly singer (quiet literally, insects die when she sings) joked while gargling that it was time for her morning riyaaz, to which the not-understanding-jokes room-mate responded “Oh, so you do riyaaz?” Tch tch tch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sweet room-mate and the not-understanding-jokes room-mate have left and now I live with someone who doesn’t understand my jokes *gasp*. Has anyone of you seen this episode of Seinfeld where he is dating a girl who never laughs at his jokes, I think it was called &lt;a href="http://www.seinfeldscripts.com/TheSwitch.htm"&gt;The switch&lt;/a&gt;. I’m living with that girl, no not the one who acted in that episode, duh. I’m living with someone who doesn’t laugh, at least not at my jokes *sigh*. I have recently fallen in love with a pair of Tom Ford sunglasses, which I can order from &lt;a href="http://www.apni-aukat-main-reh.com/"&gt;http://www.apni-aukat-main-reh.com/&lt;/a&gt; however I have membership to only &lt;a href="http://www.apni-aukat-main-reh.com/"&gt;www&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.boyfriend=cashcow.com/"&gt;.boyfriend=cashcow.com&lt;/a&gt; so I guessed it's best I ordered from there and for that I have come up with a brilliant plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not too fond of gold and I don’t see myself being thrilled by a mangalsutra [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mangalsutra]. So I feel that when the boyfriend and I get married and the pandit says “Abhi app vadhu ko mangalsutra pehnao.” He should just put the Tom Ford on my eyes instead of tying the mangalsutra around my neck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See the sunglasses will definitely be cheaper than any Mangalsutra I pick, so that way I am guessing the boyfriend will be happy to save money if we buy sunglasses instead of mangalsutra and I will be the happiest bride ever wearing my favorite Tom Ford! * beams with joy at the very thought of it *. However when I told this brilliant plan to my new roomie she just looked at me as if I had just told her the number of cockroaches that died since 1986. No laugh, no smile, no expression! Gah! I feel the look on peoples faces when they would see a new bride wearing Tom Ford sunglasses instead of mangalsutra would be very funny but the new roomie apparently doesn't have a sense of humour :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now my only option is to come and tell you people of all my brilliant plans in life. At least I can ass-u-me that you guys laugh while you may actually give those blank irritated looks to your screens. Tch tch tch poor you peoples, look what the Internet is doing to you. Heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Edited to add:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A friend from Singapore whose name I must not mention as her husband also reads this blog :D just pointed out that getting sunglasses as mangalsutra will also mean that I will be married only during the day, during the night I can be single and oh so happy ;). Also my marriage will get a seasonal off, during the rainy season I can get naughty. Ah! I always new my ideas are puuurfect!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-1715546616247169196?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/1715546616247169196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=1715546616247169196' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/1715546616247169196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/1715546616247169196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-fendi-mangalsutra.html' title='My Tom Ford Mangalsutra'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-8675480377449623539</id><published>2008-10-30T12:14:00.009+05:30</published><updated>2008-10-31T13:00:10.419+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good times'/><title type='text'>My 30 smiles to this city on Diwali</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;One of the weekends last month, beau and I went to &lt;a href="http://inorbitmalad.in/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Inorbit&lt;/span&gt; in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Malad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, as I walked by the perfume section, I sighed when I looked at &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Water-Davidoff-Women-Toilette-Ounces/dp/B0009OAHCS"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Davidoff's&lt;/span&gt; Cool waters&lt;/a&gt;. I have been wanting this perfume (?) for a very long time now. But somehow my mind is not tuned to spending for this one. I pay almost double that amount for anyone to do my hair *gasp* but no for the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;parfum&lt;/span&gt; somehow my purse strings won't loosen up. So I stood there watching it and sighing for a longish time almost on the verge of being physically dragged away from there by the security personnel when suddenly I had this brilliant idea. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Say I were to buy this parfum..perfume..whatever(!) still I would not really be happy as I am not comfortable spending that much for it. So that would mean I would be miserable even if I bought it. Then why spend that kind of money and be miserable? I thought Diwali was around the corner and if I choose to give away that money or buy gifts for people out of it, people I don't know and people who don't expect a thing from me, 30 strangers.Wouldn't that be great? So thus I began. I had to find 30 people and gift them either money or some gift each and I am sure their smiles would make me way more happier than owning cool waters :) This decision made my mind is off buying cool waters( for now that is). I thought how would I decide who to give the money/gifts to, as in how do I decide who deserves a surprise buck but then I realised what an ass I am being, it's just a small sum of money, I mean frankly I am quite lucky to be living a very luxurious life and I don't know if I have done anything per &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;se&lt;/span&gt; to deserve it, yet God has been kind enough, so even I would just give away the gifts without analysing who deserves it or some such bull.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first person was the delivery guy from a restaurant close by, this guy is a teenager, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;quietly&lt;/span&gt; he delivers the food, collects the payment and leaves &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt; without even looking up. This time when I tipped him, he looked blankly at me, I wished him "Happy Diwali" and there in his smile, in the way his face lit up, I knew cool waters can wait, these smiles are much more cooler. My Diwali was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;mucho&lt;/span&gt; happy that way, such are the virtues of selfishness because I didn't do this as charity or out of kindness but out of pure selfishness to be able to buy a lot of happiness from my money which otherwise would have been spent on some perfume and best part is I have only begun, I am down with six smiles, there are twenty-four more to go *does the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;hippy&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;hippy&lt;/span&gt; shake*.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I hope all of you had a great Diwali too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-8675480377449623539?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/8675480377449623539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=8675480377449623539' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/8675480377449623539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/8675480377449623539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-30-smiles-to-this-city-on-diwali.html' title='My 30 smiles to this city on Diwali'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-611769516536172859</id><published>2008-10-27T17:44:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2008-10-29T13:03:43.532+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rant'/><title type='text'>Body of Lies</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;No. This isn't a review of the movie. Actually this post is not about the movie at all. The Saturday beau and I went for this movie, we choose to go for the last show (11.15 pm) so that we could have an unhurried dinner and catch the movie at ease. But no, thanks to the rising number of insensitive parents it was not to happen.Right behind our seats was this couple who bought their barely-one and a half-year old kid! Throughout the movie the kid kept screaming and kicking our seats so we missed some of the dailogue and kept shifting uncomfortably. The beau suddenly yelled a 'Susssssh' to the kid and I yelled at him, the kid won't be able to sush specially if he is to sit in one place for about 2 hours in the dark watching a very violent movie. An irritate beau replied the sush was for the parents * rolls eyes *. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I tried my best to let it be but I have had enough of stupid parents bringing kids to late night movies which are totally not suitable for kids, so I decided to take this up with the parents during interval. Here is the conversation: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The first thing I asked them was, "Forget about how much it's disturbing us, but isn't it unacceptable to bring a two year old for a violent movie like &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0758774/"&gt;Body of lies&lt;/a&gt; and that too for a late night show, shouldn't the kid be in bed or atleast at home at this hour?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Stupid Father replies "No, No, No, he is not even two, so we bought him." My jaw dropped and at that point I felt like tying him up and torturing him but his wife was even more irritating (match made in heaven, I say) and torturing two people in a short span of 10 mins( the interval time) would be difficult so I let go.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Stupid Mom (Making a sad face): "There is no one to look after him at home, so we bought him, we see very few movies." ( I'm sure thats such a huge sacrifice. *sniff sniff*) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Me: "But then why don't you watch them on DVD?  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Stupid and Mother both Father start rambling about how they totally have the right to torture their kid and disturb other movie goers. Stupid Mom: "Are you trying to tell us that we should not see movies in a theatre." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Me(Without skipping a beat): YES! Do you even have to ask! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;At this point the interval ended and we ended the discussion there. During the second half of the movie we actually played a bit with the baby, what to do * sigh * you can't beat(quite literally) these insensitive parents atleast you don't take it out on the poor kid, such a deadly combo of parents he is got. I swear one more time I encounter parents like these I am going to snatch their kid from them! After all loony parents should be anyday better then stupid parents! HMPF.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-611769516536172859?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/611769516536172859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=611769516536172859' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/611769516536172859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/611769516536172859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2008/10/body-of-lies.html' title='Body of Lies'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-6024230277744203265</id><published>2008-10-10T20:53:00.009+05:30</published><updated>2008-10-11T17:18:05.925+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good times'/><title type='text'>Italian Dhashera with Ganeshji and Elvis</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Early morning I received an sms from a friend wishing me a Dhashera free of all evils, I read it as free of Elvis and wondered did Elvis ever sing some bad dhashera songs, of which my dear friend wants to free me, only to realize that it's evils he was taking about. Heh, thus began the whole fusion on my Dhashera 2008. Our house has lots of Ganesha idols and generally people remark that as per vaastu there should just be a single Ganesha in the house, so we decided to unite all of them and pray to them for helping us loose weights and the terrorists to gain immense weight. Since weight loss is such a tough and time consuming task we figured if the terrorists gained weight they would have no time for terrorizing junta. My friend remarked looking at our make shift temple "Isn't it Dhashera today?" Well what to do! As kids we were taught that all Gods are one, so instead of Durga Mata we worshiped our dear Ganeshaji and we seriously hope our prayers are answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_neK70GpFWTM/SO94Pl0QmEI/AAAAAAAABXE/XrCkn0apaRg/s1600-h/Ganesha_lovely.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255551499409332290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_neK70GpFWTM/SO94Pl0QmEI/AAAAAAAABXE/XrCkn0apaRg/s400/Ganesha_lovely.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_neK70GpFWTM/SO97PRCL6mI/AAAAAAAABXc/U8Ez_5KKDck/s1600-h/Home+sweet+home.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255554792365484642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_neK70GpFWTM/SO97PRCL6mI/AAAAAAAABXc/U8Ez_5KKDck/s400/Home+sweet+home.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that thanks to the punju roommate who cooks sexy Italian food we ate a lovely Italian lunch (pasta, garlic bread et al). We did get white wine to go with the food but well er, we didn't have a wine opener and ended up having cranberry juice instead. The wine sits nicely in our fridge and to honour it we will cook a deserving meal this weekend I hope. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-6024230277744203265?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/6024230277744203265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=6024230277744203265' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/6024230277744203265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/6024230277744203265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2008/10/italian-dhashera-with-ganeshji-and.html' title='Italian Dhashera with Ganeshji and Elvis'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_neK70GpFWTM/SO94Pl0QmEI/AAAAAAAABXE/XrCkn0apaRg/s72-c/Ganesha_lovely.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-9196913838847552864</id><published>2008-09-28T13:13:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2008-09-28T14:30:54.369+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stranger than fiction'/><title type='text'>Blink</title><content type='html'>She had a long shower. It was a lazy Sunday after all. Coming out of the bathroom, she caught a glimpse of herself in the huge, full length mirror on the bathroom door. She had always hated that mirror, suddenly she realized she hated mirrors in general. They told her more than she needed to know. She was never a looker and then she slowly became too fat, too ugly, too old. Sigh. But she knew she was beautiful, her eyes made her that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she looked closely she realized that the eyes that stared back at her from the mirror were not hers. It was unnerving. She looked again, closely, those were definitely not her eyes. In school one of her class teachers always scolded her " I know you are up to something I can read it in your mischievous eyes." on some other days when she was quietly trying to grasp the formulas being dished out by this very teacher, suddenly she would look up to the teacher and the teacher would complain " You have such mischievous eyes!" It was so funny to watch her teacher fume like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She knew she could talk through her eyes.She felt betrayed by the display of her emotions sometimes, her eyes told everything like it was. Her eyes would laugh when she was thinking of something funny, her eyes would drool when she saw the guy in office she had a crush on for the last 5 years. When she was angry the fury in her eyes was unbearable. But her eyes were most beautiful when she saw him.They danced playfully, sang happily, giggled joyfully and were dizzy with the happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But these eyes staring back from the mirror were not hers. They were hollow and still like death. She suddenly wanted to scream at the person staring at her from the mirror daring her, challenging her 'We'll see who blinks first'. To be able to stare at a person and not blink for hours was her talent. She remembered in college she had dared everyone and no one could beat her. This was her game. She would command the person she challenged to blink and till date everyone had obliged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The person in the mirror stared back, for a long time neither flinched, then suddenly  there was emotion in those death like eyes,instantly tears rolled down her face and then, then she blinked, defeated at last, by self pity.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-9196913838847552864?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/9196913838847552864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=9196913838847552864' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/9196913838847552864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/9196913838847552864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2008/09/blink.html' title='Blink'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-5426421828285101838</id><published>2008-09-25T12:55:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-07T14:11:29.638+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me Myself and Loony'/><title type='text'>Remembering Myself as I was</title><content type='html'>Last few days have been the worst days of my life. Bad enough to drive me do try crazy stuff. *shudder* I have become bitter, sad and gloomy but then, I sadly smsed my beau "Please try and remember me as I was, and not as the person I have become." I guess it's then I realised it might be a good idea if I tried the same. I was a loony happy hippy person. I can't randomly decide to be happy, but then then I can try to not be gloomy and bitter. The problem in the whole situations is no one intends to hurt other so thats what I will do now on and I hope to God some of you still read this blog, because this was the happiest part and I plan to revive it back again!Right now I feel I am blessed to have my current roomies, Raji and Swapna. They barely know me but have been very very sweet. Making exemptions for my behavior, trying to lift my spirit and best of all just letting me be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-5426421828285101838?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/5426421828285101838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=5426421828285101838' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/5426421828285101838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/5426421828285101838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2008/09/remembering-myself-as-i-was.html' title='Remembering Myself as I was'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-3247313346954935885</id><published>2008-09-22T13:49:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2008-09-25T13:08:42.978+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good times'/><title type='text'>Tandoori Kusum Rohra......Spicy!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Last weekend the pilot babe &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;roomie&lt;/span&gt; and I decided to go to the very famous &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Mohd&lt;/span&gt;. Ali Road to try out the delicacies dished out on this place during the month of Ramadan. As we neared this road a warm wind blew into our faces bringing with it the mixed smells of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;kababs&lt;/span&gt; and burning oil. I was surprised that in all the places that I read about the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Minara&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Masjid&lt;/span&gt; lane I no where read about the local flea sort of market which is open till dawn. It was my dream come true! Being a total shopaholic I ofter crib about the fact that the malls aren't open all night. Going through rows and rows of stalls selling shoes, bags, dresses without having to worry about them shutting down was so great that I almost forgot that we were there to sample the food! Since I am brainwashed by the brand brigade I couldn't buy much from these markets but it sure was fun doing window shopping in it's truest sense for once. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We walked through the entire lane, picked up a stall called 'Status' and sat down to begin our gastronomic journey. The one thing that kept distressing me was the sight of caged '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;teetars&lt;/span&gt;' kept on all these stalls. While I thought that the chicken &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;tawa&lt;/span&gt; was good, the other dishes chicken &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;tikka&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;kheema&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;masala&lt;/span&gt; were not to my liking as they had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;toooooo&lt;/span&gt; much oil and spice in them so I was a little disappointed and I feel the food at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Badhe&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Miyaan&lt;/span&gt; would have been better &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;anyday&lt;/span&gt;. But after this disaster we &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;surprisingly&lt;/span&gt; found a great place named 'Chinese and Grill' if I am not wrong, we &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; expect the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;iftaar&lt;/span&gt; specials to be good but strangely we ate the best brain &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;masala&lt;/span&gt; there, not too oily nor too spicy, everything was just right.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The place that made this visit totally worth it was '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Suleman&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Usman&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Mithaiwala&lt;/span&gt;'. Between the two of us we tried their &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;rasmalai&lt;/span&gt; (which was to die for, fresh, not too sweet and melted in your mouth) black current &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;phirni&lt;/span&gt; (which was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;gooood&lt;/span&gt;) and regular &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;matka&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;phirni&lt;/span&gt; which is in the fridge humbly waiting to be eaten. I am yet to try their double &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;malpua&lt;/span&gt; which I couldn't since the chicken and brain were already in a massive fight for space in my tummy. Next time for sure that delicacy will also be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;alloted&lt;/span&gt; some space. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;If you are wondering about the title of this post well, the place was so hot, humid and crowded that I felt I was being &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;tandoored&lt;/span&gt; and the spices in the air obviously stuck to me. If I would have waited for some more time I am sure I would have been cooked just right and would have made a great food experience for the crowd there!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-3247313346954935885?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/3247313346954935885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=3247313346954935885' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/3247313346954935885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/3247313346954935885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2008/09/tandoori-kusum-rohraspicy.html' title='Tandoori Kusum Rohra......Spicy!'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-988035926266057988</id><published>2008-09-20T13:35:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2008-09-20T14:26:33.938+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Weakness'/><title type='text'>In her shoes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Too Good to Leave, Too Bad to Stay. I guess this is the tittle of a book, but thats how my relationship has become for the last one year. Long one year. A time in which I have turned bitter, sad and am not myself. A time in which I have lived what would be a dream life for anyone, living my life on my terms, making the best of everyday, but have wept almost every night. A time when I have been more confused than ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Generally I am never indecisive, in fact most of my friends think I make impulsive decisions, but to me my instinct knows better. So I let my instincts guide me and take all the decisions. But this once,  have been suppressing my instinct for over a year now, hoping to God my gut feeling is wrong this time, knowing very well it's never the case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost a year back, one of my closest friend came home to invite me for her wedding, a wedding which was doomed from the beginning. That day I advised her, to ditch the wedding, come and stay with me. I offered her my place and support till she is independent. But she got married and is sad and miserable ever after. Till date I nod sadly thinking that if only she were strong enough to walk away when she could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I am here. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;In her shoes&lt;/span&gt;. And I am worse than her, I am independent, I can take my decision and for a year now my decision has been to put up with the totally unfair, manipulative, paranoid parents of my beau, my decision has been to put a brave front through the day, to laugh to joke and to smile when people ask me so when are you guys planning to take the plunge and then home and cry myself to sleep, to look longingly at children and  bite my lip and drink a ton of water to avoid myself from weeping in public. It has been my decision to let my heart ache when I start to think of how this is affecting my parents. It has been my decision to put up with the fact that his parents get to decide if we marry, if we get to be happy or if we get to be a normal couple and reach the point when we wonder what the hell got into us to have married in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been my decision, to ignore the fact that as right he may be in not wanting to dessert his parents, he is equally wrong in letting me suffer for their unfair judgment,   it has been my decision to let his parents insult me, my father and still want to marry into that family just because I love him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am walking out of it now. And this is here, for the day when this will be over, for the day when there will be peace, for the day when I will have grown out of this pain. For a day when, I can read this and kick my butt, for the day when I will read this and smile at my weakness, until then,  my feet hurt from being in her shoes and my heart aches with all the love lost.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-988035926266057988?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/988035926266057988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=988035926266057988' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/988035926266057988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/988035926266057988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2008/09/in-her-shoes.html' title='In her shoes'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-1488969151360825478</id><published>2008-09-18T11:03:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-09-18T12:22:50.530+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Theatre'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good times'/><title type='text'>Queen of Good Times</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Yup. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;That's&lt;/span&gt; what I have been rechristened as, thanks to my sweet delusional new roommate.  I finally have two new &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;roomies&lt;/span&gt;, one of whom is a hot Pilot babe *tries to hog undeserved limelight as always* . Now we all are reading about, crying about and trying to fight the monster called 'inflation'  and yesterday we three women like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;desi&lt;/span&gt;  charlie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;bhaiya&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ke&lt;/span&gt; angels beat it to pulp. For under Rs.200 we saw a play and had dinner at my most favourite theatre &lt;a href="http://www.prithvitheatre.org/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Prithvi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went out for the play 'The Crown Prince' all I can say is it's the best comedy play I have seen in a long time, we all hooted whole&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;heartedly&lt;/span&gt; when the play ended and came out with our jaws hurting and eyes watery from all the laughing out loud. Even now I am shaking like unsettled jelly thinking about the play which is not a real good thing considering I am in office and I am sure that it's common knowledge that no one feels particularly happy working with excel so people around me know what I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;up to&lt;/span&gt;.   Enough said I will now take my re-christened self seriously and order all of you to head to the lovely  and cozy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Prithvi&lt;/span&gt; in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Juhu&lt;/span&gt;. Go to it's lovely cafe and enjoy a hot &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;sulemani&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;chai&lt;/span&gt; with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;masala&lt;/span&gt; '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Amlet&lt;/span&gt;' before the play, even their now-torn-and-tattered menu cards are innovative and interesting. After that watch the play '&lt;a href="http://www.mumbaitheatreguide.com/dramas/english/12_preview_hamlet.asp"&gt;The Clown Prince&lt;/a&gt;.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I am sure you all will thank me for this advice I will also advice you to send me some entertainment charges in Euro and not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;dollahs&lt;/span&gt; and if you come back from the play dissatisfied then you should probably take your doctors advice seriously about not missing your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;meds&lt;/span&gt; or therapy sessions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-1488969151360825478?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/1488969151360825478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=1488969151360825478' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/1488969151360825478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/1488969151360825478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2008/09/queen-of-good-times.html' title='Queen of Good Times'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8689539128655413352.post-4538939561084248805</id><published>2008-08-08T16:34:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-08T18:46:45.844+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Roommates'/><title type='text'>A real estate broker with deep interest in women.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Yup! Thats what I am turning into. All because I have this lucky (?) charm because of which whoever shifts in with me, gets married within few months of living with me. Really. You don't belive me fine, let's see how many women has it been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.Pranati Mohapatra.&lt;br /&gt;2.Rubina Chowdhury.&lt;br /&gt;3.Prachi Mohapatra.&lt;br /&gt;4.Swati Nanda.&lt;br /&gt;5.Hafsa Noorie.&lt;br /&gt;6.Vidhi Malhotra&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phew, all of them in less then two years! Which means every few months I am back to my 'Looking for a female roommate' stage! And you guys have no idea how bleedhy difficult it is to find a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;good&lt;/span&gt; roommate, I have been stuck with horrible roommates. Now before I take in any new roomie I try to ask them as many questions as possible which means I end up spending a lot of  time trying to know these women *abruptly stops blogging and runs off to meet another woman hoping this one is 'The one' *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8689539128655413352-4538939561084248805?l=kusumrohra.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/feeds/4538939561084248805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8689539128655413352&amp;postID=4538939561084248805' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/4538939561084248805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8689539128655413352/posts/default/4538939561084248805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kusumrohra.blogspot.com/2008/08/real-estate-broker-with-deep-interest.html' title='A real estate broker with deep interest in women.'/><author><name>Kusum Rohra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry></feed>
