I am Tagged again..
Sagar is the culprit this time ;).. I know this one is too early to do another, but stacking it in drafts would be foolishness :D
Here is 'Being Richa'...

I am: prone to mood swings :D

I think: therefore I am :)

I know: I am Super Lazy

I want: A pug

I have: an obsession for Branded Accesories :D

I wish: to visit Italy sometime for a vacation

I hate: getting up early in the morning ;)

I miss: my best friends

I fear: being left alone

I hear: whatever my conscience tells me (I follow it or don’t is just another story)

I smell: burnt crackers all around :(

I crave: for chocolate truffle :D

I search: the reason for my existence on the planet...

I wonder: how I am gonna live if my partner doesn’t know dancing!!

I regret: really nothing!! *proud!!*

I love: getting wet in the rains *blushing*

I ache: when I learn of female foeticide practice from people I know

I was not: this bore when I were young!!

I am not: a very expressive person

I cry: very rare :)

I believe: I’ll be famous someday ;)

I dance: whenever Peppy beats reach my ears :D

I sing: 24X7 (Bure bure hum shaitaan- zara zara bachna re humse ;))

I read: not very often these days (Bad. Very bad.)

I don't always: like getting noticed :D

I fight: against female foeticide

I write: my ‘random toughts’

I win: the fact race- most of the times :D

I lose: contact with people

I never: wish bad for any damn one!!

I always: try to avoid arguments- though discussions are more than welcome

I confuse: some peculiar pronunciations ;) viz. acoustics, vengeance

I listen: only when I want to :D

I can usually be found: at home- unemployment phase :(

I am scared: that I may die without accomplishing the task I have been born for..

I need: desperately to lose some weight *hmph*!!

I am happy: when I am happy :D
I tag: Everyone who is reading this and wants to do it :) juz lemme know who takes it

Shuffling through the I-pod, I just stumbled upon a very favorite track after long time.
(OST- The Name Sake, Artist- Susheela Raman- it is a remix version, original is from a Bollywood classic (B n W), ignorant of the name of the movie the Artist is Mukesh- I love the former version.)

Ye mera Deevanapan hai, ya mohhabat ka suroor,
Tu na pehchane to hai ye, teri nazron ka kasoor…

Dunno why, today I just feel draining myself over here.. Vacuum sucks man!!
(OST- Music & Lyrics. Artists- Hugh Grant & Haley Bannet)

All I wanna do is find a way back into love,
I cant make it through without a way back into love..

Till then, Cha.alo I'll Manage...

Preeti tagged me over this one—yeah I know Honey bunch that U missed me :D
I already have so many tags pending in drafts, thought to publish this one first-- let's follow LIFO.
Tough my blog is full of anecdotes but she says she wants to know me more so here I go--

The Tag:
Two questions in each category answer them and then tag your friends from the blog-o-sphere. (Simple enough right) Leave a comment on their blog letting them know they have been tagged and you are all set.

Yesterday

Your oldest memories
Late 80's
The officer's colony- Sundarnagar- H.P.
I have been the naughtiest kid in the whole family (I still am till date), prone to accidents and tod-fod :D
Paired with my elder cousin- Varun Bhaiya (Massi's son), no kid in the whole world could compete us in mischief. We were the gang leaders (;D hehe)
My grandfather (Naana Ji) was posted in the beautiful hills of Sundarnagar. I would have been some 3-4 yrs old, they had a Surd family in the neighbourhood, whose son- Mandy (Mandeep Singh – I still remember) we never let him play in our team, rather irritated him and teased him over something or the other.
It was a Sunday morning; I and Bhaiya were playing in the sun, making castles with the sand. Head-bathed Mandy came out of his house, (we never missed one chance of making fun of his long hair and that too loose) as always we did laugh over him for a while, but he was cool enough to not mind and wanted to join us for the castle making (I did not like him at all) but I let him, though my bro stared at me with annoyance, but he had recognized the naughty spark in my eyes and let Mandy join us (his loose hair were alluring me to pull them ;)).
I asked Mandy to turn his back towards me and winked at Bro, the moment he turned around, Bro held his arms tight so that he could not move and I hand-filled the sand and put it in his hair, Mandy was fighting us to let him go, he was crying, but the devil inside us was dominant over him :D
When we let him go, he ran to his house and brought his mom to our house to complain- though our moms punished Bro n I for the same, but this is one incidence I can never forget- One mischief that I enjoyed the most and even today, when I am keying it down, the copyrighted 6" smile is present on my face :D

What were you doing ten years ago?
Ten years ago- that makes 1998
I have to be in VIIIth standard.

That was the year when I sipped champagne for the first time in a party :D
That was the year when I lost a bet on gulping 7 bottles of Canada dry in one go (the winner gulped 7 n a half)

Prologue

The protagonist of our story is a girl. A "so-not-ordinary-girl". At least she thought so. Only until..

She always considered herself as "so not ordinary girl", a little more witty than the crowd, not the typical nerd looking, plump, pimple faced, 2 pleads, with glasses on her eyes- not a scholar, but just an above average, smart, alert n not so pretty girl.

Let's call her Dimple- (when even she smiled, her cheeks revealed beautiful trenches).

She read somewhere 'talk sense to a fool and he calls you foolish', and she dint only read it, but also experienced it. As I just said, she was a little wittier than the crowd, so whenever she talked senses, the rest would be agreeing on the same wrong facts, and call her foolish.

So she opted the easy way out. She talked less.

In the name of 'friends', she had a few people around her, but then again, the conflicting wits.

Only until this guy knocked on the heavy door of the rock-wall she had built around herself. He had come to deliver a message, but dimple did not even get to know when did he invade that rock wall and entered her life.

Zonal youth festival was the ground where she came across him for the first time, it was not the usual 'first sight click', but there existed some wavelength match, none of them was looking forward even to a friendship, though a faint smile appeared on both sides on the sight of the other.

The festival ended, the guy was back to his place, and Dimple was again busy with her usual routine. She never thought about him or missed him. Anyhow, they managed to add each other in friends list on a social networking site, but never communicated more than exchanging hi/hellos through scraps.

Now this Guy needs a name, so we shall take it to be Ghaint (for non- Punjabis, Ghaint is a peculiar vernacular term used for MIND BLOWING).

It was just a not so ordinary day in Dimple's life; she had had a very disturbing argument with one of her close friends and was feeling quiet low when her phone rang. Some unknown number flashed, she received the call, it was Ghaint calling. She was amused on how did he have her number; he told her that he had a message for her over some event of the festival they met in.

She talked to him for a while over the same and disconnected which after she felt she was no longer low, he had a voice and accent of a very down to earth and humours person which lifted her spirits. That was when the spark had ignited within her, which she pretended to ignore.

She usually avoided any communication with him for she had turned into a loner save a few close friends. Whenever he forwarded her SMS's, she tried not to reply to them, and it seemed a one way communication. Of what she had perceived of him in the few encounters, he was not a despo, he was just friendly.

Eventually, it became hard for Dimple to avoid replying to him for his SMS's were too tricky and witty to be ignored. She was allured to answer them and solve those puzzles. He was turning out to be riddle, waiting to be solved, and dimple could not overcome the temptation of knowing him more.

Ghaint was kindda person she herself was, less friends, more wits. Distinct from the crowd, busy with himself- in his own world, bindaas, cool, and more than talkative.

Gradually, as the story turns out to be, they became friends, the best of friends, dependent, confiding in each other, and now the "so not ordinary" girl was no longer so. For she had come across another "so not ordinary" person.

P.S.

I may continue this mock-tale.