<?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-2938636899639041832</id><updated>2011-04-21T11:30:04.562-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And there is home...right there</title><subtitle type='html'>We all wish we were home.....back where we can sleep and rest. Where mornings would come with a breeze and nights would fade into the humming of an old farmer. I guess the emotions that go with the "Going Home" feeling are the hardest to define. Here I present some of my feelings...some visualizations that tell me....its time to go home and sleep....</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938636899639041832/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>abhi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TmD4Fl0oYuw/S1dlurOo9kI/AAAAAAAAARw/3m1hBHmSy6Q/S220/homer+simpson.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>7</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938636899639041832.post-6144720876028060778</id><published>2007-05-04T05:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-04T05:56:24.684-07:00</updated><title type='text'>तुम</title><content type='html'>तुम&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;बस&lt;/span&gt; आंखों ही आंखों मे&lt;br /&gt;चुपचाप सी कुछ कहती तुम&lt;br /&gt;हर सांस मे मेरा नाम लिये&lt;br /&gt;हर सांस मे मेरी रहती तुम&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;तपती धरा पर बारिश कि पहली बूँद सी&lt;br /&gt;सोंधी सी खुशबु लेकर तुम&lt;br /&gt;सरदी कि निर्मल धुप सी प्यारी&lt;br /&gt;गुनगुनी हंसी बिखराती तुम&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;चांद कि हलकी मधुरिमा मे   &lt;br /&gt;गेसुओं के गहरे साए सी तुम&lt;br /&gt;फूल कि पंखुदी पर मानो&lt;br /&gt;जमी ओस सी सकुचाई सी तुम&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;तुम्ही से आदि तुम्ही पर अंत&lt;br /&gt;मेरे जीवन का सार हो तुम&lt;br /&gt;इस क्षणभंगुर जीवन का मेरे&lt;br /&gt;चट्टान सा आधार हो तुम&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;एक पलक भर देखने से ही&lt;br /&gt;सर्वस्व अर्पण को तैयार हो तुम&lt;br /&gt;इस ह्रदय मे मेरे प्रेम से बना&lt;br /&gt;मेरी मृगनयनी मेरा संसार हो तुम&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2938636899639041832-6144720876028060778?l=almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com/feeds/6144720876028060778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2938636899639041832&amp;postID=6144720876028060778' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938636899639041832/posts/default/6144720876028060778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938636899639041832/posts/default/6144720876028060778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com/2007/05/blog-post.html' title='तुम'/><author><name>abhi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TmD4Fl0oYuw/S1dlurOo9kI/AAAAAAAAARw/3m1hBHmSy6Q/S220/homer+simpson.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938636899639041832.post-6682824927425368946</id><published>2006-12-14T21:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-14T22:03:28.293-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Till Life Do Us Part</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TmD4Fl0oYuw/RYI5-smTQ2I/AAAAAAAAAB0/gpEgH4gYAYE/s1600-h/heaven_01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5008629484875891554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 525px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 309px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="185" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TmD4Fl0oYuw/RYI5-smTQ2I/AAAAAAAAAB0/gpEgH4gYAYE/s200/heaven_01.jpg" width="260" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Till life do us part&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sorry Mr. Shakespeare….this is my story and I will tell it my way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;the curtains are still…no air no breeze&lt;br /&gt;its quiet all around&lt;br /&gt;inside I mean&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;outside…is an explosion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;screams, whispers, laughter and sobs&lt;br /&gt;so many people&lt;br /&gt;so many voices&lt;br /&gt;they all talk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;never listen…just talk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so many faces…lost&lt;br /&gt;not in the crowd&lt;br /&gt;but within….each one of them&lt;br /&gt;scared and lost&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;don’t know where they come from&lt;br /&gt;don’t know where to go&lt;br /&gt;they just walk and talk and keep walking&lt;br /&gt;till feet carry them no more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;crackers, guns, rockets and bombs&lt;br /&gt;cars, bikes, big planes….&lt;br /&gt;scared&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stand here at the window&lt;br /&gt;thinking….Remembering&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it seems like yesterday&lt;br /&gt;that I looked at you&lt;br /&gt;that I just looked at you and sighed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all the chill gone out&lt;br /&gt;warmth settled in&lt;br /&gt;like a large rum on a November night&lt;br /&gt;a big confession for a small sin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;your eyes…oh those calm, quiet, whispering lakes&lt;br /&gt;of warmth, love&lt;br /&gt;those eyes…they haunt me still&lt;br /&gt;your care, your love, your concern&lt;br /&gt;still remember those nights of crooning&lt;br /&gt;of loving….of playing dead to the whole world&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the curtains are still…no air no breeze&lt;br /&gt;its quiet all around…inside I mean&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that soft touch of yours&lt;br /&gt;told me…you were there…always&lt;br /&gt;never let me be alone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;those nights are playing again….&lt;br /&gt;when you held me tight&lt;br /&gt;you knew I was scared…you knew I needed you&lt;br /&gt;you just knew…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it was fun...&lt;br /&gt;by the river, on the beach&lt;br /&gt;on that cliff….to be with you&lt;br /&gt;to know you are there…always&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we were happy…were....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the curtains are still…no air no breeze&lt;br /&gt;its quiet all around…so very quiet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there you are…was looking for you&lt;br /&gt;you look beautiful&lt;br /&gt;serene and calm and beautiful&lt;br /&gt;the sunlight softly caressing you hair&lt;br /&gt;the light playing a kaleidoscope on your lips&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you look beautiful when you sleep&lt;br /&gt;I told you this a million times…I wish I hadn’t&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the curtains are still…no air no breeze&lt;br /&gt;its quiet all around…too quiet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;want you to wake up now&lt;br /&gt;want you to smile at me…&lt;br /&gt;the way you did every morning&lt;br /&gt;like the winter dew….fresh and lovely&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;want you to pull me, to hold me…&lt;br /&gt;want you to tell me…that you love me&lt;br /&gt;in that deep husky voice&lt;br /&gt;want you to know I am there…always&lt;br /&gt;want to hold you close to my heart&lt;br /&gt;to hear your heart beat a million times…to listen to your breath&lt;br /&gt;to wish we would define eternity this very moment&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you are asleep…deep asleep&lt;br /&gt;I know you wont wake up…even if I called you&lt;br /&gt;I know you want to…I know you cant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel you every moment I stand here&lt;br /&gt;I feel your pain&lt;br /&gt;you want to come to me…I know&lt;br /&gt;you want me to be with you…in eternal peace&lt;br /&gt;you want to...you cant…I know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not crying…you would not like it…I know&lt;br /&gt;not that I want to…&lt;br /&gt;why should I?&lt;br /&gt;you haven’t gone away…you are just there&lt;br /&gt;across the door…waiting for me…as always&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;don’t worry…&lt;br /&gt;listen....I said don’t worry…I love you&lt;br /&gt;won’t let you go alone&lt;br /&gt;I know your pain and your yearnings….I know…I am here now&lt;br /&gt;it will be ok&lt;br /&gt;it will be all over very soon…I know...for a new beginning&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;don’t you lose hope…I am here now&lt;br /&gt;I come now… to you my love&lt;br /&gt;to make you mine…forever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;noting can take you away from me&lt;br /&gt;no rain, no thunder, no storm&lt;br /&gt;no man, no beast, nothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;let us go now my love&lt;br /&gt;to make a new world, to fall in love…all over again&lt;br /&gt;to see the flowers and the butterflies…to fly&lt;br /&gt;let us go now darling….let us start&lt;br /&gt;we will always be together now…nothing can take you away now&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;we will always be together now....till life do us part&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;&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; &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; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Abhijeet Basu&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;15th December 2006&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2938636899639041832-6682824927425368946?l=almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com/feeds/6682824927425368946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2938636899639041832&amp;postID=6682824927425368946' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938636899639041832/posts/default/6682824927425368946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938636899639041832/posts/default/6682824927425368946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com/2006/12/till-life-do-us-part.html' title='Till Life Do Us Part'/><author><name>abhi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TmD4Fl0oYuw/S1dlurOo9kI/AAAAAAAAARw/3m1hBHmSy6Q/S220/homer+simpson.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TmD4Fl0oYuw/RYI5-smTQ2I/AAAAAAAAAB0/gpEgH4gYAYE/s72-c/heaven_01.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938636899639041832.post-861097863831933651</id><published>2006-12-07T01:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-07T02:00:00.765-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Feedbacks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TmD4Fl0oYuw/RXfmFR6jHqI/AAAAAAAAABY/m448zIhYxLA/s1600-h/beggar.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5005722489228304034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TmD4Fl0oYuw/RXfmFR6jHqI/AAAAAAAAABY/m448zIhYxLA/s200/beggar.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is a sincere request to all of you who read my blog and my works. Please write comments. Even if its a one liner, would be highly appreciated. If it is good, I would love it. If the comments are not good about my writings....I will be even happier as I will get a chance to improve. So please keep reading and please keep writing......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2938636899639041832-861097863831933651?l=almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com/feeds/861097863831933651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2938636899639041832&amp;postID=861097863831933651' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938636899639041832/posts/default/861097863831933651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938636899639041832/posts/default/861097863831933651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com/2006/12/feedbacks.html' title='Feedbacks'/><author><name>abhi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TmD4Fl0oYuw/S1dlurOo9kI/AAAAAAAAARw/3m1hBHmSy6Q/S220/homer+simpson.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TmD4Fl0oYuw/RXfmFR6jHqI/AAAAAAAAABY/m448zIhYxLA/s72-c/beggar.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938636899639041832.post-2180282270714608211</id><published>2006-12-04T23:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-05T23:08:41.715-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Zombie Soldier</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TmD4Fl0oYuw/RXWYyKYXzHI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xED4QkXHz1o/s1600-h/birds_flight.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5005074548439633010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TmD4Fl0oYuw/RXWYyKYXzHI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xED4QkXHz1o/s200/birds_flight.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TmD4Fl0oYuw/RXWUcKYXzGI/AAAAAAAAAAY/fSstG9JlUAU/s1600-h/DSC00952.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;he stood there…alone…tired&lt;br /&gt;his breath heavy, his shoulders burning&lt;br /&gt;the sword lay flat on the ground…the crimson ground&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he looked around…for the first time in days&lt;br /&gt;he looked around…when all was over&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;has saw faces&lt;br /&gt;innocent, precarious, troublesome, bloody faces&lt;br /&gt;he knew those people…or so he had thought&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he had walked with them&lt;br /&gt;taught them how to hold the sword&lt;br /&gt;how to kill a man and how to survive&lt;br /&gt;he had learnt from them….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he had lived their dreams&lt;br /&gt;their aspirations&lt;br /&gt;their pain&lt;br /&gt;their agony&lt;br /&gt;their newborns and their deaths&lt;br /&gt;their fear and their jokes&lt;br /&gt;he knew those people…or so he had thought&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they were all over…&lt;br /&gt;moaning, crying, writhing with pain…&lt;br /&gt;the pain he had given…the pain they had deserved&lt;br /&gt;the pain that sounded so good….when he had fought them…on this ground…the now crimson ground&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he knew their kids…their wives...their homes&lt;br /&gt;their generals were his best friends…or so he had thought&lt;br /&gt;he knew these people….or probably not&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they were evil…yes evil and sinister&lt;br /&gt;they were here…they had the sword&lt;br /&gt;they drew the first blood…&lt;br /&gt;to make him repent for what he did&lt;br /&gt;to make him say sorry for loving them…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here he was…surrounded&lt;br /&gt;by them that he loved&lt;br /&gt;by them he would die for&lt;br /&gt;by them who he thought would die…for him&lt;br /&gt;he knew these people…or so he had thought&lt;br /&gt;now it was all over….they deserved what they got…&lt;br /&gt;all was gone&lt;br /&gt;the pain, the agony…all over&lt;br /&gt;the screams turned into moans&lt;br /&gt;and the moans died down….fading into the tequila sun…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he looked away…couldn’t see it anymore&lt;br /&gt;he had given them pain…he liked the feeling…hated his own being&lt;br /&gt;the people he used to call friends…he had killed them himself&lt;br /&gt;he had made sure…that no one returns…&lt;br /&gt;not afraid…worried that he might have to hurt them again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;took the step forward and felt them all die….&lt;br /&gt;he walked on the slush&lt;br /&gt;of sweat, blood and gore…of his own men…his lieutenants, his sepoys…his men&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there were tears…he could not believe it…in his eyes&lt;br /&gt;his heart was full of pain&lt;br /&gt;the pain of his own…the pain he had given them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he wanted to end it all&lt;br /&gt;he wanted to go back…&lt;br /&gt;he wanted to hold them all..to make them rest in his lap&lt;br /&gt;to protect them from the hyenas…from the people…&lt;br /&gt;from the world…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he never stopped&lt;br /&gt;he heard someone call his name….but he never stopped&lt;br /&gt;he could not…he would not&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;before he killed them all….he had killed someone else&lt;br /&gt;he had killed himself&lt;br /&gt;he had killed his sympathy&lt;br /&gt;decapitated his love&lt;br /&gt;gored his passion and mauled his care….he was a zombie now…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he did not go back&lt;br /&gt;not again…not another Julius&lt;br /&gt;not another pang of trust, of faith…he was dead now…a zombie…&lt;br /&gt;no more…not again….no et tu Brute…not for him&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he walked tall and proud&lt;br /&gt;blood and sweat…he walked…tired yes….but a victor&lt;br /&gt;no one will know the general now…he had killed him&lt;br /&gt;he will walk now…with pride….with stealth…with just himself&lt;br /&gt;The Zombie Soldier….will walk now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abhijeet Basu&lt;br /&gt;5th December 2006&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2938636899639041832-2180282270714608211?l=almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com/feeds/2180282270714608211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2938636899639041832&amp;postID=2180282270714608211' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938636899639041832/posts/default/2180282270714608211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938636899639041832/posts/default/2180282270714608211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com/2006/12/zombie-soldier.html' title='The Zombie Soldier'/><author><name>abhi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TmD4Fl0oYuw/S1dlurOo9kI/AAAAAAAAARw/3m1hBHmSy6Q/S220/homer+simpson.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TmD4Fl0oYuw/RXWYyKYXzHI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xED4QkXHz1o/s72-c/birds_flight.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938636899639041832.post-1500695841322731514</id><published>2006-11-23T04:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-27T02:12:34.347-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I heard Me scream...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7976/358720324662968/1600/304019/Open%20doors_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7976/358720324662968/320/715025/Open%20doors_1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7976/358720324662968/1600/746572/Open%20doors_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just around the corner&lt;br /&gt;saw him there under the lamp post&lt;br /&gt;sitting with his eyes closed and his fists too&lt;br /&gt;wrapped in rags, with a bottle of sherry maybe&lt;br /&gt;staring&lt;br /&gt;staring into the sky, into oblivion&lt;br /&gt;thinking perhaps&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everyday, every moment&lt;br /&gt;he sat there staring&lt;br /&gt;in retrospect….&lt;br /&gt;confused and tired&lt;br /&gt;hungry and ill&lt;br /&gt;sleepy and far…from home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he heard his own breath&lt;br /&gt;being blown away&lt;br /&gt;he heard his own being&lt;br /&gt;being towed astray&lt;br /&gt;behind a bike&lt;br /&gt;like an empty beer can&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;our eyes met&lt;br /&gt;or so it seemed for a moment&lt;br /&gt;they were dark&lt;br /&gt;tired and ill&lt;br /&gt;tears dried but still visible&lt;br /&gt;like channels on the dust caked face&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh yes….the face&lt;br /&gt;the so very wrinkled face&lt;br /&gt;covered with soot and dust&lt;br /&gt;with tears maybe&lt;br /&gt;and crumbles from an stale bread’s crust&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the eyes knew it all&lt;br /&gt;they have seen them rise and fall&lt;br /&gt;those were haunting eyes&lt;br /&gt;they bore through your very being and asked you&lt;br /&gt;are you sure you wanna meet me?&lt;br /&gt;are you blind or you just wanna beat me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the eyes said….go home kid&lt;br /&gt;I trust no one&lt;br /&gt;you seem like too busy&lt;br /&gt;to come here and hold my hand&lt;br /&gt;you’re too busy&lt;br /&gt;to crawl up and stand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the face knew it all&lt;br /&gt;it screamed of pain&lt;br /&gt;it laughed of disgust&lt;br /&gt;but it was a very familiar one&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he turned again and looked at me&lt;br /&gt;I was just about to have pity&lt;br /&gt;but then…I remembered&lt;br /&gt;I knew him…..we had been friends&lt;br /&gt;we had grown up together….years back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we had debated through nights&lt;br /&gt;and I had always won&lt;br /&gt;he never cared much&lt;br /&gt;till I held him by the neck and beat the crap out of him&lt;br /&gt;even then, he would come back and apologize&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I waited for him to mould&lt;br /&gt;to change the way he was and be a bit more bold&lt;br /&gt;until that one day when he didn’t come back&lt;br /&gt;he just went for a stroll&lt;br /&gt;now I know why…with his backpack&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I searched for him…days on end&lt;br /&gt;but alas&lt;br /&gt;he was gone…for good I thought&lt;br /&gt;got tired of my beatings…felt sorry for the chap&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t miss him anymore….&lt;br /&gt;he didn’t deserve it&lt;br /&gt;my girlfriend did….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sometimes yes&lt;br /&gt;I thought about him&lt;br /&gt;wished he was there&lt;br /&gt;when I got married&lt;br /&gt;when I had kids&lt;br /&gt;when I got my first raise…but he was gone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and here he was&lt;br /&gt;old and shaggy&lt;br /&gt;looked like a beggar…smelt like one too&lt;br /&gt;Oh Lord…good Lord!! Was this true?&lt;br /&gt;I searched for him….eternity and beyond&lt;br /&gt;and here he was….finally found&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to hug him&lt;br /&gt;gave a damn what people would think&lt;br /&gt;I knew he was my best friend&lt;br /&gt;and I knew I missed him&lt;br /&gt;wanted to tell him I was sorry for all I did&lt;br /&gt;that I wanted to go back home&lt;br /&gt;and take him with me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we would live together again….brethrens&lt;br /&gt;and I promise I would never even speak&lt;br /&gt;‘cause I know now he was right&lt;br /&gt;I know he wished good…maybe the only one&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to take him home…my wife and kids are gone&lt;br /&gt;they left me ‘cause they thought I was wrong&lt;br /&gt;now I know....I was&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I go to him and touch his shoulder&lt;br /&gt;oh its so cold!&lt;br /&gt;I want him to look and me and say&lt;br /&gt;hey buddy! Wassup? I’m hungry…let’s go home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I touch him and he slips….&lt;br /&gt;I look around…frantic….anxious…scared…he’s not there&lt;br /&gt;did I touch him?&lt;br /&gt;or was it just the cold, damp air in my fists&lt;br /&gt;I want him here, right now&lt;br /&gt;I want to hold him and cry&lt;br /&gt;I want to tell him that I will never let him go again&lt;br /&gt;I want…..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;people are staring…I give a damn&lt;br /&gt;they are laughing now…I guess why&lt;br /&gt;someone yells “Hey!! Nutter!!! Go get a bath you fleabag !!”&lt;br /&gt;I look down….my bare feet stare back&lt;br /&gt;my shirt…used to be white…is beige now…fluttering&lt;br /&gt;I touch my lips, they feel like the scorched earth&lt;br /&gt;I see my shadow under the lamp&lt;br /&gt;there is a halo….can it be true?&lt;br /&gt;hh no…not halo…that is a head full of hair….my head….my hair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look around again….damn these kids&lt;br /&gt;a stone brings a warm trickle on my face&lt;br /&gt;I know its blood…my blood…I give a damn…&lt;br /&gt;I want him with me&lt;br /&gt;to hold me and to tell me its all right to be scared&lt;br /&gt;to shoo away these kids and scold everyone who is laughing&lt;br /&gt;I want to sleep….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know who he was…&lt;br /&gt;that was my soul….my very own being&lt;br /&gt;Yes…my own conscience&lt;br /&gt;hungry, poor, beaten and old&lt;br /&gt;and he will never come back…or maybe he will…I cant wait any longer…but I have to&lt;br /&gt;everything is dark now…dark and cold and mute&lt;br /&gt;I don’t hear a thing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no wait!!&lt;br /&gt;I hear a scream…far but its there…&lt;br /&gt;a painful agony…….&lt;br /&gt;I feel sleepy...and yet I hear it clear&lt;br /&gt;can it be him calling? No…he stopped speaking a long time back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear it every day…can’t be a dream&lt;br /&gt;I know now what it is….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear me scream………&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abhijeet Basu&lt;br /&gt;23rd November 2006&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2938636899639041832-1500695841322731514?l=almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com/feeds/1500695841322731514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2938636899639041832&amp;postID=1500695841322731514' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938636899639041832/posts/default/1500695841322731514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938636899639041832/posts/default/1500695841322731514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com/2006/11/i-heard-me-scream.html' title='I heard Me scream...'/><author><name>abhi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TmD4Fl0oYuw/S1dlurOo9kI/AAAAAAAAARw/3m1hBHmSy6Q/S220/homer+simpson.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938636899639041832.post-3798302155955155355</id><published>2006-11-22T20:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-02T21:56:16.438-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Old mates</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TmD4Fl0oYuw/RXJm9KYXzFI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8HcHCLEKayU/s1600-h/DSC00894.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5004175336906673234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TmD4Fl0oYuw/RXJm9KYXzFI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8HcHCLEKayU/s200/DSC00894.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;Met an old friend yesterday. The entire thing became kinda nostalgic. We remembered the "Good &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;ol&lt;/span&gt;' times" when we were learning and having fun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;It was such a gruelling experience for someone out of grad school to manage a team of experienced and very competent professionals. And these people used to teach us...of the ropes of life and job. And now....we are the ones that have experience....we lead the way. We teach the young ones about survival out there...about life and about professionalism. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;I am in a good mood to write something today and the way this entry is coming up....I am not quite happy. I can write better. I can think better. I guess I just need to get a hold of my mind and think...think and decide how to articulate my thoughts into good content. So just keep watching this space...who knows....I may just come out with a page compelling you all to think.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2938636899639041832-3798302155955155355?l=almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com/feeds/3798302155955155355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2938636899639041832&amp;postID=3798302155955155355' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938636899639041832/posts/default/3798302155955155355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938636899639041832/posts/default/3798302155955155355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com/2006/11/old-mates.html' title='Old mates'/><author><name>abhi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TmD4Fl0oYuw/S1dlurOo9kI/AAAAAAAAARw/3m1hBHmSy6Q/S220/homer+simpson.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TmD4Fl0oYuw/RXJm9KYXzFI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8HcHCLEKayU/s72-c/DSC00894.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938636899639041832.post-2016273304128528429</id><published>2006-11-22T04:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-28T18:16:42.736-08:00</updated><title type='text'>And there it is...right there</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7976/358720324662968/1600/643170/purple_sky.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7976/358720324662968/200/983094/purple_sky.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Almost heavens...he said&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Life is old there alright and I am just too nai've to judge or comment upon that...but if this is what Denver felt like when he wrote the song....kudos...wrote it with tears...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Why is it that after achieving everything life has to offer you....you want to go back and have some peace? I mean...this is what we all work for right? Safe and healthy parents, a lovely wife, awesome juniors and greatest friends and the wait for a lovely daughter or son to call you Dadda or whatever you want him/her to call you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Then why is it that something is always missing? Why is it that the world suddenly turns mute....and all you hear is your own blood gushing through the veins near your eardrum? As if like you just heard a bomb explode...meters away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Suddenly....nothing else matters....but to go home. Yes...home...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;A place where there are people who hate you, love you, pamper you, scold you and above all miss you. The point is...all those emotions are real. Yeah...R.E.A.L...They cry when you are sad, they scream when you are happy.....They wait for you when you are not there....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Guess I am bit blue right now. Damn! thats it... I am blue! I wanna run away where no one can ever see me. I wanna run back to my home. Yes....home....right there...around the corner....no no...don't look on the street. I mean the corner of life...just there you'll find home...a place to sleep and die....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Just there..around the corner...yes....just there...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2938636899639041832-2016273304128528429?l=almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com/feeds/2016273304128528429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2938636899639041832&amp;postID=2016273304128528429' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938636899639041832/posts/default/2016273304128528429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938636899639041832/posts/default/2016273304128528429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://almosthomealmostthere.blogspot.com/2006/11/and-there-it-isright-there.html' title='And there it is...right there'/><author><name>abhi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TmD4Fl0oYuw/S1dlurOo9kI/AAAAAAAAARw/3m1hBHmSy6Q/S220/homer+simpson.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
