On the road again - Day 1

The April hot air was cold at 0430 hours in Jharsuguda when I and Abir kick-started my Thunderbird for the longest journey that we had planned till date. His quota to drive in the smooth SH10 was receding as fast as the morning replacing the dawn. By the time, the first rays hit the face of Oriya roads, we were in Sambalpur. Sambalpur is famous for Sambalpuri silk sarees, which are a one of its kind in the nation. Sambalpur being an important junction connects Bhubaneshwar on NH42, Mumbai via Raipur on one limb of NH6 and Kolkata via Keonjhar on the other limb while Jharsuguda on SH10. 10km further on from Sambalpur on NH6 towards Raipur one finds the vociferous Mahanadhi getting banked on the humungous Hirakud Dam. Known for its magnanimous structure, Hirakud dam is the world’s largest earthen dam with the walls running in for 30km connecting Burla and Hirakud town. Standing atop, it feels to be wavering along the ocean with no boundaries.

Refilling our wallets with a few grands, half of what we were expected to have by 20^th of the month also and the fuel tank with Speed Petrol, we had imagined to hit the 120kmph mark at ease on NH42. Abir not letting go of the rider’s seat, our usual count of swapping the seats was increased to 100km keeping the magnitude of the journey in mind. Updating my FB status to the current happenings, I knew that by the time my friends logged into FB, I would have reached my destination comfortably. The scenic beauty of the hills on the right hand side and farms on the left hand side left us dazed about the place through which we were travelling. At 100km from Jharsuguda we reached Charmal, a place specifically needs the mentioning. We took a break and ordered the nation’s best beverage to rejoice – Chai. We had mistakenly parked the 200kg monster in the muddy service lane and it took a while for us to bring it back on to NH42. Kick it with all might and it won’t start. After 10 minutes of desperate kicking, the bird refused to budge. We identified the problem with spark plug, but the engine was too hot to be meddled with. After half an hour of rest, with help from the Chai-dukaan, we got hold of Sankara, the mechanic. He opened the twin-spark that always made the trouble, cleaned it with the Speed Petrol and roared the engine. As a blessing in disguise for him, 50 bucks transferred hands without the required amount of work being done.

I started the engine and the April heat was getting on to us. Abir carrying a decent amount of luggage, I was the culprit with carrying a huge back-pack inspired by the song “Aaromale”. The entire blame was not on me as I was carrying Abir’s HDD as well. Finding it difficult to carry and maneuver, we stopped the bike and were making the make-shift arrangements to reduce our burden. Finally, finding a solution to it, we put the back-pack on the fuel tank and cruised away. When it was 0900 hours, we had cruised 250km to Angul to stop for our breakfast. The stoppage at Charmal had badly hit our average speed, calculated to just 60kmph. We removed our helmets, our elbow and shin guards, paused our music players and ordered Upma for breakfast, which being a favorite of Abir. We planned our next course to reach our destination with a better average speed so that we were able to make up for our loss. After applying the necessary sunscreens and putting back the armory on, we left Angul on the same NH42. Angul, known for Naxalites and National Aluminium Company is one of the fine industrial cities of Orissa. With more number of thermal powerplants coming up in the vicinity, the Naxal movement is taking a head-on clash with the blessed, fighting for the unprivileged. One observation worth mentioning is that the roads of Angul have improved a lot since our last trip. The clutters were removed and dancing jacks had been replaced by roads of NH standards.

When we were nearing Dhenkanal, there was a huge line of vehicles on the left hand side. Trucks, buses, cars, bullock-carts, were lined one after the other. We thought a railway gate that we could not remember of, was closed. But, that would not mean to stop vehicles for a 20km stretch. Reading into the situation, there was chaos as well. There were unsettling nerves about something tragic that had happened. Not again, we thought. We could hardly accelerate above 30kmph and reached a place where there was absolute chaos with tyres being burnt with animosity in the air as fuel. The police officer controlling the situation was looking directly at us and was calling us towards him. We did not know anything, we are simple bikers caught in a myriad haywire. Gathering courage, we biked towards the officer to find that he has made way for bikes in the zone to pass. Salute him, I thought. The whole mishap was about a bike ramming into a truck and there was heavy bloodshed. A furor was created as the person belonged to the nearby village and the road-services were disrupted. Thanks to the officer, we saved some 4 hours to circumvent the situation. On the other side of the accident, we saw the same line of trucks, buses, cars, bullock-carts and bikes stranded for 25km on the right side of the road. With the sun-streaming down on us, my tanned forearms called for a hydration break.

We reached Dhenkanal and moved swiftly through the hot whirlwind and reached Cuttack at 1300 hours and took the mighty NH5 of the Golden Quadrilateral. Speed mellowed down due to traffic, Abir felt difficulty in driving as we almost skidded past a truck that was going mayhem. Tempers and frustration rising between us mainly due to the heat, both of us displayed tremendous control in not yelling at each other. May be that is what the hot shopfloors of Vedanta has taught us - To remain cool when the situation and the ambience is hot. We reached Bhubaneswar at 1400 hours, scouted a hotel and refreshed. The conditioned air and the cold orange-flavored Glucon-D did some good to us. We later went to the Royal Motors to collect back our Insurance papers and visited our favorite restaurant – Tangerine and had a sumptuous meal. Searching for Lassi in the capital of Orissa, the salty ones tasted yuck although Abir had two of them. We later reached our hotel and dozed off. A true CSK fan in me woke up at the right time to watch the IPL Semi-Finals which CSK won against DC. The first day of the huge bike cruise was over. An arduous bike trip that was ahead of us the next day, taunted us, even in the dreams. 

The In-dependence day

The last time I celebrated my Independence Day was on the 9^th June, 2010 and my country’s Independence Day on the obvious date of 2003. As a school boy, marching with the pluck-card of “Vivekananda House”, I listened to a gravitating speech by person, whose name I do not remember, but, he was from an organization called Alma Mater. My vocabulary was at horrifying levels that I did not even understand the meaning of Alma Mater. But, the speech was in simple English that I understood. It was a speech that ignited the spirit of “I can” in me. I can, I can and I just did the opposite. Fared badly in the 12^th boards, screwed up the JEE and the other EEs as well.

The next Independence Day of 2004, I found myself attending a quiz (Ragging?? Rectification??) in a place some 2000km away from my home. The dogma of marching a parade and the head of the institute hoisting the National flag was unconventionally replaced by the quizzes that we underwent. The whole agenda of gleefully singing the National Anthem which was written just 60km from where I was being quizzed came as a slap on my face (pun intended).

The next Independence Day of 2005, I was awakened by a few juniors singing the National Anthem outside my door and who were quizzed after the show. After the formal introduction, a yawning me went outside my hostel to see hoards of juniors returning after the parade. A new convention was started that year to hoist the flag. I vowed a breakable vow to attend the ceremony next year without fail.

Independence Day of 2006 was no better. There were more juniors and being in the pre-final year gave me more autonomy to dictate things. Not because I was in pre-final year, but, because, I was residing in a final years’ wing. There were different versions of the 52-second starched-chest-high-head-proud-anthem with the length of it variably varying with the geography of India. Pushed the breakable vow to the Independence Day of 2007, which will be my final year at the place. So, I had to attend it. Then the day came and I was cozily sleeping in my bed, without any of my wing-mates’ disturbance. I think we had a party the last night, with an afore-seen fact that the next day is going to be a dry-day.

2008, Independence Day was on a weekly-off day. Working in shifts had my off shifted to Friday than the normal beings’ Sunday. The village where I was working in had a new or the first supermarket opened. Flocking with a couple of colleagues, I bought my daily accessories (brand of my choice actually) after put into a jail for two months. When my Independence Day will come from this place was the thought that extended to infinity.

Surprisingly, for the Independence Day of 2009, I had booked my tickets to the place where I was physically present on the Day from 2004 to 2007. I was merrily spending on shopping thinking that the big bucks will stop one-day and my breakable vow remained broken. I did not wake up the parade for the fourth time out of the given four chances. Independence meant Freedom and I had it with me then. The real freedom to say yes for the thing you want to.

It was 0400 hours when my mom woke me up on the 15^th August 2010. A couple of text messages wishing me “Happy Independence Day” with a text-drawing of the nation. I thought how superbly they have included the whole of Jammu & Kashmir and Arunachal Pradesh in it without knowing the real state of affairs. After my Sehri, I slept off and woke up around 0800 hours to find my cousin brother getting ready to leave for the flag hoisting at his college. It rang some bell in me. The guy with the freedom in me has changed over the years. While fasting in the holy month of Ramadhan, I realized, this is how millions of Indians feel 365 days a year, although their lives. The mental agony of hunger and thirst haunts them day and night. Irrespective of millions of tons of food grains rotting waste at the mega-warehouses of FCI, the responsible government still imports food grains and increase the deficit. They won’t even distribute the rotting grains for free to the unprivileged. With millions swindled in the name of Wealth that was supposed to be Common, with Indian Rupee getting a new face, with Communist East India fighting the Fascist West India, both of whom are against the secular North India with a completely intangible South India, lest we forget the North-East limb of Mother India.

Independence did not bring order but chaos. Only if we would have been a little more patient, the Englishmen themselves would have granted us the Independence without all the bloodshed. Nothing against the martyrs, who laid down their lives! As an Indian I salute them. On the contrary, is this is what they wished their country to be after 63 years of Free State? 

India 2030

India – 2030, sounds like the title of another economic-scientific-progressive novel. We stand here at 2010, look two decades ahead and think how our plan of action would have been executed. We are a nation of 1.2 billion people who never forget to plan, but, rely more on superstition than reality. When we think of the number of hurdles that is confronting us in becoming a superpower, we can just count to infinity twice. Although over the years, the hurdles have exponentially decreased we still have a long way to go before becoming the superpower that the world is expecting of us to be and also that we are capable of.

Redefining the dream of 2030, the cricketing nation, by then would have seen five different sets of governments that would have shared the crown. With coalition becoming success and democracy taking an altogether different meaning, the vision of 2030 entirely depends upon the execution of plan by the last government that will be in power. A lot of things would have changed by then, fresh plans would have made by then and fresh start for India -2050.

Giving statisticians a break, a lay-man can say that our population by then would have doubled, if not tripled. A cynical way of looking at it would be that the divisor that will bring down the per capita income is going to be humungous. But, on the contrary, we can start planning on the optimistic fact that we are going to be master producers of human resource to the world. The human species would have gone through a generational change and a more intelligent species will take over the reins. Old habits die hard; so does our inaccuracy in planning and execution. A lot of us will be a lot more relieved if the then younger generation would not emulate our genes which has a met the deep abyss in the execution of the 5-year plans. Our population explosion is going to be our strength, for which we have no measures to control, so why not turn an adversity into opportunity for growth. We can have the largest defense force; we can have two cricket teams representing India; Brazil will be seeking us to pardon them in the World Cup Finals; largest exporter of human resource, even to moon, we never know. We have learnt to live with billion other people; fight for our rights and survive. Isn’t that an accomplishment in its own sense?

The year 2030 is going to be the point of inflexion as far as the energy resources are concerned for the whole world. With as much inventions in the nuclear science, renewable sources of energy are still occupying the backseat. India relying highly on the crude oil exports apart from its own Oil and Natural gas projects has now started to look at Nuclear Technology as the viable alternative. Well the ecological damage has been done to a greater extent with swindling monsoons, topographical changes, climatic disorders and the least-hyped altercations with nature. We must get started with investments in the Research and Development sector to develop an alternative fuel for diesel and petrol. The rich society has to realize that pouring in lakhs of rupees on petrol and diesel engines is going to make them proud of the antiques of 2010. Why are we turning a blind eye on the blazing sun, the perennial rivers flowing with occasional floods, steady winds atop high mountains and the least of all the potential biodegradable waste?

Imagining a situation that we found a way to deal with our population explosion and energy problems, a country with diversified flora, fauna and people has been closely knit with its neighbors. What we see in our neighbors is not a helping hand, but, nuclear weapons that can destroy us, as well as them. A political consensus to the eternal problems of infiltration along the borders has created much havoc. Although a generous nation she has been, someone tell her neighbors that she already has more than a billion people to accommodate with no vacancies for those terrorists. 2030 should not see the terrorists as terror maniacs, but as mentally retarded people needing help where Euthanasia is performed upon. Our political policies should be framed in such a way that Kashmir belongs to us and so does Arunachal Pradesh.

Neglecting the volatile political situation out of the equation, what we have next is our faster than light-depleting natural resources. India, being blessed with billions of tones of minerals is fighting hard at the moment to sustain them. Illegal mining on one side while, illegal money on the other. Without developing the mining affected areas, the mining conglomerates are wishing to dance in the rain of profits. The current insurgency created is an aftermath of decades of negligence. Before stepping into the realm of the vision of 2030, these problems must be sorted out. The question that needs to be raised here is not the Capitalist nature of the government or the multinational mining companies, but the poor laws that guide them. Ask any Indian you find on the road and he would not even remember when the laws that govern him were made. An educated Indian will answer the same question with much pride that they were made in pre-historic 1950s. Hasn’t India seen much change since then? Hasn’t the human race marched forward in evolution? Are we doing enough to upgrade the laws? By 2030, I wish the aam-aadmi of today is turned into a seb-aadmi. By 2030, all we need to have is a water-tight law system to take us on a forward march. Enough of waiting and walking, by 2030, we can be half-way through to our destination of a super-power only if we start with jogging now.

Reminiscence of Marina

The other day I was sitting at the Marina beach, reminiscing old times leading to the thought that could improve us, the people and us, the nation. I have been a frequent visitor to this 13 km stretch on the shores of the Chennai city, which is adorned with many historical statues. When I used to visit the beach with my family during my childhood, it used to be a 45 min ride on a bus. The Chepauk cricket stadium road perpendicularly leads to the beach road. From there, sitting inside the bus I could see the blue waves scripting their poems on the sands. Every time I see it, a euphoria moment would rise in me as if it was my first time. A good feel that just got wonderful.

 The walk on the sandy beach used to be a long one to reach the waters. To reach the waves splashing on us, thereby our legs getting buried under the sand. Let alone the English language, no other language can express that inexplicable feel, except for the fact that it only can be experienced. The beach used to be dirty then, with no rules and regulations. None cared for the ecosystem and thought that this is going to here forever. While returning back with frown faces of not leaving the waters, I used to have the beach-famous bhajjis made from a variety of dal powder and raw bananas, fried in oil. It used to be an enjoyable experience without a question in mind that life is fun to live. I used to wish why my home was 10 km away from the beach, but consoling myself later that to experience the euphoria, the given set of conditions were a blessing.

After 6 years being away from the city and the beach, I find the same euphoria hitting me when I drive on my bike and reach the aperture of the blue view. How something that I have experienced close to a thousand times, can raise the same feel every time, which is inexplicable indeed. Now, the walk is not a long one to reach the waters. Global warming had its share of foul play. The beach is a lot cleaner and more improvement programs are carried out to maintain it properly. People’s perspective of ecosystem has changed and they do not want to litter. The bhajjis are more costly, but a lot tastier. 10 km seems nothing when I heard huge exclamations from my friends in North India of how privileged I am. The only constant that has not been disturbed by the natural calamities or the cost of living or the spurge in economy or the topography is that inexplicable feel of your feet getting immersed in the sand when the waves splash which is for eternity, let alone the mortal beings.

Life is beautiful..

Life is beautiful. It is just that we human beings running behind the beautiful things that we see, hear, smell and feel around, forget the very true fact that life is beautiful. Every person in this world works, earns, eats, sleeps and plays to live life. But, what is the point in not appreciating a life that you live for. The life for which you put in so much hard work, yet, you do not value it?

Every emotions felt by every human being on this planet is special and unique. It is only s/he who felt such an emotion at such a time has felt it and although s/he can share it with others, s/he cannot replicate it again. That makes it very special and very unique because when you think of replicating it almost with the identical conditions you simply cannot because, you are older than what you were. So replicating a feeling or an emotion is the only thing in the universe that is impossible, if only time travel was possible.

But, working on this theory and considering a condition that time is stationary, we can do the impossible. But, when the time becomes stationary and nothing changes with fourth dimension, which is when the world comes to a halt around us. Neither we are able to feel nor move on, in that meta-physical state. We start repenting and nothing changes around us. We play the waiting game for far too long and lose it all. Instead, living life beautifully and enjoying every emotion one at a time is what the true purpose of every human because every life is special and it deserves to be beautiful.         

Go Green - Why a bicycle is better than a motorcycle..

1. I can travel my full journey on the wrong-side.

2. I can put the U-turn wherever I want. Just lift the cycle and jump over the divider.

3. I don’t need to worry about the traffic lights.

4. I don’t give a damn about where the nearest petrol pump is.

5. The left side of the road including the pavement belongs to me. (For the right side, refer points 1 and 2).

6. I don’t have any speed limits.

7. I get a healthy work out.

8. In case of brake failure, I can use the accelerator-my feet as the brakes.

9. I can put scratches on any other vehicle at freewill and still not worried about scratches on mine.

10. I don’t need a license or a RC book or an insurance and save India from corruption by not bribing the Traffic police.

Hey ya..

Dear Scooty Pep,

This is me, Thunderbird. How are you? I am fine. As you would know, I was born in a Royal family and initially used to chase the Ladybirds during my school days. Immaturely, I thought, the bird-bird connection would make it all work. But, as time passed, I was proved perennially wrong. Also, my luck ran out against the Sunnys and the first generation Scootys.

Since, I was born as a new generation cruiser; I was way too unconventional and was nothing like the classic Bullets. Not to mention the unilateral confrontations that I had with the ordinary Indian bikes. I was not just the normal bike around. Extraordinary sounds way too strong, but, abnormal sounds very apt.

Initially, I was born with a single spark plug, to redefine the meaning of a royal cruiser. Just like any other bike, I followed the single spark plug fundamental. But, with unconventionality prevailing in me, I was forced to change. My inventors clubbed with the markets, wanted me to perform better. Wanted me to give better mileage, better comfort thereby modifying the silencer initially. Later, the thought of introducing twin spark plugs made them happier. I burnt more fuel and gave better efficiency. But, never was I asked, if I would feel comfortable about the twinspark. It is the way I was born and from far, the society adores me. But, when asked to own one, they neither have the guts nor the power to handle. That is the reason, you see very less of me on the roads. But, with the ever increasing broad-minded people, you will see the more of me.

Be it any bike, a 150 or a 220 or a 350cc, its existence on earth is justified only when it follows a sub-100cc moped and actually wins her over. As hot cakes in the bakery, came those Saffires, Activas, Dios, Pleasures, etc., but, I was interested in none. To follow the girlie cars was never in my list. Hearing a lot about you, I never in my wildest dreams would have dreamt that I will follow you. I was fanatically in love with you. I went wherever you went. But, the family of bikes not accepting me because I am a twinspark is totally unacceptable. One day, they will understand me. That I was completely unaware of the mistake that they think I am. But, in the end, I am proud to be one. With millions of kilometers to travel in this journey of life, we will meet again. Till then, happy and safe driving!!

Yours lovingly

Thunderbird Twinspark

Cricket clock ticks back again!!!

There have been innumerous times, when the game of cricket in India has gone through phenomenal changes. Every now and then, the absurd situations of loss in interest leading to decline in viewership have baffled the cricket industry. And each time a disaster occurs, it occurs in its true sense. Etched in the memory of the present T20 generation, the century’s birth was marked by the match-fixing fiasco, followed by dismal performance in 2003 World Cup finals, 2007 World Cup first round exit and the recent T20 World Cup. Every time, the road along the abyss seemed deeper, but the anti-gravity force has proved stronger enough.

 After the match-fixing scandal, we saw the formation of a new team of youngsters taking the reins at the helm. A new dawn was on the horizon with fresh legs and smarter brains. The most successful Indian captain took the team to new heights and the front-end work thoroughly projected the back-end efforts. It was those individuals who brought the hopes of billion other Indians alive. Alas! When the going was good, the same individuals buckled under pressure, hay-wired on the March 23^rd finals and shattered the expectations.

The rebuilding this time was not that fast enough. Taking examples from the past, the team started playing consistently and were rightly rewarded, supported by stellar performances from the next pool of youngsters. Infusion of young minds once again proved that the juice of cricket is worth the squeeze for the Indians. But, they proved that watching cricket over studying for exams is not that great an idea for millions of students across the nation, during the jet-lagged 2007 World Cup.

After the falter, the recovery did not take much of a time, as the Indian board used the same old trick of betting on the youngsters and were rewarded with the first T20 World Cup. Cricket reached new heights and the pinnacle was right in sight. Cashing in on the cricketing craze that was generated and the adrenaline being pumped in, the birth of the Cricket League and the Premier League fanaticized the fans. With myriad controversies surrounding both the leagues, the common fan was very optimistic about the future of the game. His interest rocketed and the mere numbers of economical crashes never even bothered him.

Plummeting at the second T20 edition, did not bring that many hearts down until the IPL-III happened. Again giving way to controversies and conspiracies, the tournament thought-out as a preparation for the T20 World Cup, 2010, proved to be a devil in disguise. With fitness issues at the centre and personal issues in the periphery, the Men in Blue, portrayed themselves to be completely disordered. Finding solace and trying the same approach of investing in the new pool of youngsters in the Zimbabwe tour backfired and the next strategy to rejuvenate seems to be a looming asymptote. Was the thrilling India-Pakistan match of the Asia Cup the panacea? We got to wait and watch.

Spark Plug

"Station Ochunundi. Jaragandi babu.", shook my Telegu co-passenger. Yeah, I thought. Stepping out of the artificially cooled coach, I found the sky clear. At early dawn, birds starting to chirp, the platform no.2 seemed long. With a jolt from the blue, I remembered that my bike is on the parcel van. Ran to one extreme of the platform to make sure, it did not reach Allepey by any chance as it belonged to my place. As any Indian goes through the same trauma of paying bribe as if he is paying a non-receipted tax, I paid 200 bucks to make OR23-C-7860 stand on the platform. And I was informed by the tax collector that I can collect the bike from the other end of the platform. Lurching ahead, I went to the end of the train with my heavy backpack and the laptop.

With no petrol in the tank, I did not have a clue how to carry forward at 0400 hours. Carrying inflammable articles like petrol, kerosene is a punishable offense. They do not mind, if the tracks are wired, but, they are very particular about the petrol inside the bike. I know Safety precautions, but, what about the engine oil then. I feel this is where our intelligence fails. With seven kilometers to reach, I do not have the hydrogen-fuel-technology to power my way through. Then, the spark plug in me ignited. I called up my nocturnal friend and asked him to bring petrol along from any of the 24hour station. A big positive about big cities, things here are 24*7, mechanic shops not being taken into account.

After half an hour, he reached and without a second thought, I emptied two litres of petrol. If one has got to say about crime, carrying petrol in bottles from a Petrol bunk is a crime. Once again, an intelligence failure. Now, it was time for a thumping start. Kick-Dub-Dub-Dub-fail. Again kicked. Again and again. With all the cosmos filling in at 0430 hours, I doubted air lock. I blew air, fanatically into the tank to release the air lock. But, nothing worked out. Given another chance to my spark plug, and some telephonic conversation with my mechanic, I tried with the carburetor settings and as expected, nothing worked out.

Where is the mechanic shop at 0500 hours? So, called up the Just Dial service and asked them if they could help me in finding mechanic shops around the Central station for a bullet. Instant came the SMSes containing the name and contact nos. of the mechanics around. Tried calling those nos. and in vain, I found deep sleep on the other side. The only guy who received the call, was reluctant to come since, I was not his permanent customer. "Dude, this is the first time I'm in the city with my bike and you expect me to be your permanent customer?"

With all Permutations and Combinations drying out, the only other logical reason was that the fuel was not getting ignited. Then, I called up another friend who updated his FB status saying that he is jobless at 0500 hours. Thinking, "Buddy, I got a job for you now", he reached within 15 minutes to flaunt his control over speed on early-morning free roads. Chit-chatting for an hour, and well-knowing that the mechanic shops around the place opens by 0900 hrs, we had the company of soda, sprite and cigs. With the bike, under my friends custody, I went back home in one of their bikes, freshened up and then reached back at 0800 hours.

Reaching back, instantaneously, I started removing the spark plugs and cleaned them. With lots of Carbon deposits, it was all transferred to my hands. Then, my bike started, then stopped. The cycle went on for quite a while. To our great amazement, a mechanic shop close-by opened by 0830 hours. Towing to that shop, and with clear explanations, he cleaned up the spark plugs with petrol and then the clear dub-dub-dub started. It was a moment of co-incidence that Airtel sends me a SMS, "Welcome to Chennai. For assistance please call our Customer Care at 121."

Monica - Oh!! My Darling

I committed a grave mistake on 16th of June. I am not talking about joining Vedanta on the same date in 2008. There is this girl in my life who is very special to me. She is not my girlfriend, not my sister, not my mother or any other blood relative. She is my best friend. Bumped into her by accident and this shy girl from Bombay was reluctant to actually make a conversation. Being a strong anti-racist myself, I got to know that we speak the same mother tongue, after looking at her full name. As usual, this cuddly-puddly lady slowly bonded with me as a fish would with water. Months passed, through the ups and downs, there she was with me always. An excellent cook, she is the main reason for me fighting my medical disorders. I owe my bike to her and how often do you see a girl who is ready to travel thousands of miles on a bike. Love the way, she says "means" or her complete indecisiveness. But, she is never that immature as she portrays herself to be. A strong reason being, this cute girl knows to love people. Seldom, we find true love and she is the one who possesses it. Her love for friends transcends boundaries and many a times she proves a wise-man wrong. She is a diamond in the crown of a king and I am eternally indebted to her. Monica, my darling, I love you my dearest friend and I am really sorry for not wishing you on your birthday.

Tippu