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ishq hua
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Re: ishq hua
an oldie i chanced upon while fiddling with my windows media player. shilpa shetty looks fetching. i saw her in a tv commercial the other day - her nose is totally changed and she looks prettier indeed.
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Re: ishq hua
ya, i liked the movie too. saw nafisa ali for the second time on the silver screen (first was junoon). she was a familiar sight on the tracks when we used to ride horses (back in high school). her hubby bubbles sodhi was an accomplished polo player. nafisa was good at show jumping -- fearless woman.
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Re: ishq hua
this randomly triggered an old memory, of an event which, now that i replay it, must have been so awkward.
I would like to say I was less than 10 years old at the time, but just googled now, and I must be 13-14, so this makes it even worse.
There was this actor from tv serial Buniyad, forgetting his name now. We ended up sitting 2-3 rows ahead of him in a cricket stadium. And my seat was maybe 3-4 towards his right. He looked even handsomer in real life. Also realized people are whiter than they show on screen. He was wearing casual jeans and stylish sunglasses.
He knew he was the star there, but I mean he was there to watch the game. And what was I doing? Turning back to look at him. Frigging all the time. Watching his clothes, rings, watch, glasses, hair, shoes. No idea who the teams were. Maybe India with pak or aus, but who cared. What was I thinking, that I am invisible? He must have always known that this crajee little gal is turning back for long states at him. Am pretty sure there might be more like me (or atleast hoping there were). But graceful that he was, if he was annoyed, he made no obvious appearance of it. Initially, he turned his eyes towards our direction without turning his face, and then it was like he had no clue there are people sitting there, which gave me a full chance to check him out up and down.
memory is the only thing that can make you feel ashamed over and over for years.
I would like to say I was less than 10 years old at the time, but just googled now, and I must be 13-14, so this makes it even worse.
There was this actor from tv serial Buniyad, forgetting his name now. We ended up sitting 2-3 rows ahead of him in a cricket stadium. And my seat was maybe 3-4 towards his right. He looked even handsomer in real life. Also realized people are whiter than they show on screen. He was wearing casual jeans and stylish sunglasses.
He knew he was the star there, but I mean he was there to watch the game. And what was I doing? Turning back to look at him. Frigging all the time. Watching his clothes, rings, watch, glasses, hair, shoes. No idea who the teams were. Maybe India with pak or aus, but who cared. What was I thinking, that I am invisible? He must have always known that this crajee little gal is turning back for long states at him. Am pretty sure there might be more like me (or atleast hoping there were). But graceful that he was, if he was annoyed, he made no obvious appearance of it. Initially, he turned his eyes towards our direction without turning his face, and then it was like he had no clue there are people sitting there, which gave me a full chance to check him out up and down.
memory is the only thing that can make you feel ashamed over and over for years.
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Re: ishq hua
t w wrote:memory is the only thing that can make you feel ashamed over and over for years.
very well put. memory sucks. i still feel embarrassed by all the relations i had with girls in college. when it came to girls, i was very shy, awkward and naive. well what do you expect? i went to an all boys school. but, then again, i took a long time to mature as an adult (though not as an aspiring writer). i think i finally came into my own a couple of years after marriage and my fear of women vanished. my fear of people also vanished and i was no longer shy or reticent.
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Re: ishq hua
Guest wrote:this randomly triggered an old memory, of an event which, now that i replay it, must have been so awkward.
.
.
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memory is the only thing that can make you feel ashamed over and over for years.
You bet TW! You bet TW!!!!! It is as if you are sitting in your home theater and you have ten frames of ten events of your past in 16 mm celluloid (un dino yehi chalta tha sweetheart) and a projector. And you have an intricate merkle tree full of logical operators and infinite moods to choose from. You select the mood, one arbitrary causality to excite the chain and lie back for a full 3 hours of the first-day-first-show of your same past. You can run out of life but your past cannot run out of newer versions of itself with a new meaning every time. You think the more versions of your past you watch in your home theater, the more knowledgeable you would become about yourself. After many days of watching you will become knowledgeable for you too will learn how-to-lie about yourself. The brain is a prostitute -- ever obliging to sleep with you to make your fantasies (shame) real. But the brain also does not lie. I cannot deny that that young boy is my son and that woman is my wife. How do lies and truth happen at the same time in our brains? God knows. Won't stop me from living though. bye... got to go to factory.
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Re: ishq hua
In this complex, infinite lifespan if you and I, say, share a moment in the clouds somewhere, lasting only half a second, even if only in our minds, or just my mind, then that moment is probably as real or as true as my entire life it seems. This is how a man, at the border, can happily give up his life for his country and even mutter the obligatory Jai Hind before letting his PRAN flee. My friend who salutes to the video clip of that dying soldier, on whatsapp, and reprimands me for not knowing the difference between a dying man and a martyr, is also mad.
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Re: ishq hua
OnePlus5t wrote:Guest wrote:this randomly triggered an old memory, of an event which, now that i replay it, must have been so awkward.
.
.
.
memory is the only thing that can make you feel ashamed over and over for years.
You bet TW! You bet TW!!!!! It is as if you are sitting in your home theater and you have ten frames of ten events of your past in 16 mm celluloid (un dino yehi chalta tha sweetheart) and a projector. And you have an intricate merkle tree full of logical operators and infinite moods to choose from. You select the mood, one arbitrary causality to excite the chain and lie back for a full 3 hours of the first-day-first-show of your same past. You can run out of life but your past cannot run out of newer versions of itself with a new meaning every time. You think the more versions of your past you watch in your home theater, the more knowledgeable you would become about yourself. After many days of watching you will become knowledgeable for you too will learn how-to-lie about yourself. The brain is a prostitute -- ever obliging to sleep with you to make your fantasies (shame) real. But the brain also does not lie. I cannot deny that that young boy is my son and that woman is my wife. How do lies and truth happen at the same time in our brains? God knows. Won't stop me from living though. bye... got to go to factory.
ya i do see the same event in a different light many times. Not sure to call it a 'new version', but more like, 'why didn't this strike me earlier'. I become more knowledgeable about 'others', but the knowledge about myself is more in deltas, as in, 'wow i have changed now'.
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Re: ishq hua
OnePlus5t wrote:In this complex, infinite lifespan if you and I, say, share a moment in the clouds somewhere, lasting only half a second, even if only in our minds, or just my mind, then that moment is probably as real or as true as my entire life it seems. This is how a man, at the border, can happily give up his life for his country and even mutter the obligatory Jai Hind before letting his PRAN flee. My friend who salutes to the video clip of that dying soldier, on whatsapp, and reprimands me for not knowing the difference between a dying man and a martyr, is also mad.
sometimes an entire relationship between two people happens only in the mind of one of them. The other has absolutely no clue. Sometimes, two people may be in a relationship, but both their versions of it might be entirely different. My marriage is a prime example of that.
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