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Showing posts from June, 2006

Viva Italia???

ha ha ha... well done to this chinese commentator, called Huan Jianxiang and his enthusiasm in the last minutes of the world cup match between Australia and Italy. Italy won a penalty, and well shot the ball in the net, knocking Australia out of the tournament. But i'm sure y'll already knew that, so.. here we go.. the video with the commentary is here.
the translation is here...

Penalty! Penalty! Penalty! Grosso's done it, Grosso's done it! The great Italian left back! Facchetti, Cabrini and Maldini, their souls are infused in him at this moment! Grosso represents the long history and traditions of Italian soccer, he's not fighting alone at this moment! He's not alone!

And after Totti's goal...

Goooal! Game over! Italy win! Beat the Australians! They do not fall in front of Hiddink again! Italy the great! Left back the great! Happy Birthday Maldini! Forza Italia! The victory belongs to Italy, to Grosso, to Cannavaro, to Zambrotta, to Buffon, to Maldini, to ev…

Mmm.. the 21st

Fuck.. I'm 21 and well thanks loads to everyone there at the party... i think it did wonders to my concept of celebrating non-birthdays instead of birthdays...

Abdullah: u were meant to leave!

Bhav: I've said my piece, thanks so much.

Davin: Traitor forever.. ha ha

DD: from right under my roof!

Hiro: Superman

Iskandar: Surprise

Jane: Gombak really.. Rajiv made it for mine :)

Loshini: Yay!

Nikhil: Sweetie.. muax muax

Rajiv: U made it.. he he he

Sarah: Thank u so much

Sanjana: The "single's" couch

Shida: All the way from cheras, sweeeet

Suet: Drunkard...

Sujan: Wassup nigga

Ujval: Your spirit was hovering over us..:)

Yamu: Akka!


Those weren't really comments bt wt the hell..

Thoughts abt turning 21: no difference really.. nt a cinderella transformation atleast
Surprises: They're pleasantly nice, altho the first couple of mins are crucial.. take a deep breath n handle it :)
Year ahead: Looks like a good year save some bad things
On friends: they have better memory compared t…


I put my hand on the uneven ridges of the tar. No one cared to make you even, only the multitude of traffic, of cold hard rubber pushing down on you is ever going to make you even.

Somehow I love you. I put my cheek against the very same ridges that have left my hand red and pock-marked. You hurt me, but the more you do the closer I want to get to you.

I want to dismantle you, I try to pry you apart, 'perhaps I can reconstruct you, even as Steven.' So i try, but instead I cut my fingers. They bleed because when they bleed they cry to you, asking you to understand, asking you to see what you are doing to them.

But you stay strong and wilfull. Qualities so much admired by yourself and yours truly and I still try. I want to taste you, so I put my tongue on your ridges, I press my lower lip on your uneveness, spread my arms all over you and press my body against yours.

Maybe if I stand up I will see what I claim to be mine is just one small part of your ever expanding self. That no …

The Collosus

You look into her eyes, clench her soul
Grab her arm, smother her lips
Play with her hair, hold her close
Speak what is on her mind
Only to leave her behind
To move onto the next colossus
You hold it
As if you want it
You kiss it
As if you love it
You measure
The depth of her eyes
The weight of her feelings
The capacity of her love
Feel her happiness
Her sadness
Her life
But move on to the next colossus
Just like you move on a new chapter
As the old one closes

Mansi Maheshwari
Copyright ©2006 Mansi Maheshwari


Field trips meant the man could take shelter from tht rain and run inside their little shack and wait up till the children came and he shook his hand with each and everyone of the tiny little hands till he couldn't stand without feeling the faint jittering in his legs. He welcomed them with a huge fake smile that came right from deep within. He hated his life and he hated the man that he thought he had become. Foul and perverse, a life half lived in an insane desire to up those who were around him. SO the next morning as he wakes up from a busy dream, he stuffs the pockets of emptiness around his wife's body with left overs of his warm blanket. Her body like the filling of puffy blanket pastry. He tip toes to the ledge of the window and edges his toes past the ledge and tips his body into freefalling. Soldier Number One Out.


Out of sheer boredom she wanted to loose her virginity soon and the sooner it was lost the sooner she had one less thing to do. She wanted to loose it t…


Amazing how friendster sometimes seems to be speaking for you with its dumbshit horoscope. Well i suppose if it was really so dumbshit i wouldn't be publishing it in here, would i now.

You'll be brimming with a heapin' helping of get-up-and-go, but it will be difficult to finalize anything. A lot of details are still up in the air, and the uncertainty around you will only grow for the next few days. Luckily, you have many new people and commitments to keep you busy. With the increase in activity in your life right now, concentration might be difficult to achieve and even more difficult to hold on to for any great length of time.

Ya, well.. it seems that, 'i dunno', might be the phrase of this month.. I realize now that if there was a month that i disliked, then June it would be. Most terms end then. It's been a very lunar month, for most of my life, waxing and waning, and changing and signifying so many things yet all these things always seem so little and small …


Long stick. Hauled over. Someone's back. At the end. A polka dotted bundle. Sings a whistle. Whistles a song.

Pweet weet Puweet I am going home soon. Yay Yay Yay.

Out jumps a rabbit.

- Home abound eh sweet richie?

'Someone' puts a bundle down to say

- ah yes missus.

- and where is this?

- the dusty road place.

-oh and who will u see when u get home?

- why? 'said Someone,' everyone I know.

- and i presume you like them all and miss them?

Someone steps back a take. Takes back a step.

- gee actually no.

-no yes?

-yes- I know.

- then why?

- To.. well, go home ofcourse. Everyone likes living out somewhere and then going home.

- that's true.

- Yea. Plus I've got holidays.

- Ah yea. Holiddays at home are fun. Where are you from though.. on your way to.. but from?

- Oh the house on the other end of the ocean.

- The ocean! You've seen it huh?!

- Ah yes, my 'place outside' home faces the sea.

- the sea? right there?! outside ur window!

- Yes.. and in the mornings I like to drink…


She smells of musty cloth. If a paradox was a living thing, then a paradox would smell like damp cloth that's dry. Her hair a wisty silver not often caught in sun, her eyes as bleak as a summer afternoon covered with heavy clouds of rain. She looks again in the mirror, watching as the lines of her face showed no signs of smoothing over.

She runs her finger over the creased edge in the mirror, the broken edge and watches while her finger pricks the sharp edge and gives way to soma. It starts like a lone pebble at the edge of a gigantic cliff, and threatens to stoop over and fall insignificantly into a deep widening gore in between a mountain.

She runs one creased finger vertically along the sharp edge, and as it reaches the joints of her palm, the end of the road, she presses harder on the lone sharp edge. By now, it's not sharp any more, somewhere it's lost its finer tip.. somewhere within her bleeding finger it lies dormant enjoying the movement of swelling blood.

She can fe…

The Lady Shallot

On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And through the field the road run by
To many-tower'd Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Through the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four grey walls, and four grey towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.

By the margin, willow veil'd,
Slide the heavy barges trail'd
By slow horses; and unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd
Skimming down to Camelot:
But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?

Only reapers, reaping early,
In among the bearded barley
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly;
Down to tower'd Camelot;
And by the moon the reaper weary,


If the world was a village of 100 people, there would be 57 Asians, 21 Europeans, 14 from the Western hemisphere (North and South) and 8 Africans. Eighty would live in substandard housing, 70 would be illiterate, 50 would be malnourished, and 6 would own 59% of the world's wealth, and all 6 would be from the USA.



done with the exams... still have assignments and ta da.. i'm DONE for good.. :(

something abt leaving and coming and then leaving to come again that's threatening and scary

well nite out at a punjabi club planned

wonder how it will go in execution...

think think think...



Because woman's work is never done
and is underpaid or unpaid or boring or repetitious and
we're the first to get fired and what we look like is more important
than what we do and if we get raped it's
our fault and if we get beaten we must have
provoked it and if we raise our voices we're
nagging bitches and if we enjoy sex we're
nymphos and if we don't we're frigid and if
we love women it's because we can't get a"real" man and if we ask our doctor too many
questions we're neurotic and/or pushy and if we expect childcare we're selfish and if we
stand up for our rights we're aggressive and"unfeminine" and if we don't we're typical
weak females and if we want to get married
we're out to trap a man and if we don't we're
unnatural and because we still can't get an adequate safe contraceptive but men can walk
on the moon and if we can't cope or don't
want a pregnancy we're made to feel