newviewsonoldworld

All the small things! I“ Arre tame tamari gadiyal bhuli gaya “ ( you have forgotten your watch ) she shouted as she bade him goodbye that morning. “ na eno belt tuti gayo che .. akele main pehri nathi “ ( the belt is broken so I have not worn it) he smilingly replied as he waved and ran so that he would not miss 7.40am Churchgate fast. He loved his watch, she knew. It was his most cherished possession.. a gift from his father … when he appeared for his TYBCom. She could imagine how hard his mother and father would have saved to gift him the watch. She knew because she was also saving hard to gift him a pure leather belt for the watch on their first anniversary. And it was not easy to save when his salary was Rs300 and the hapta (EMI) on their one room kitchen was Rs 101. But she saved…. A Rupee here and there… selling raddi ( they both loved reading so newspapers and books was a luxury they allowed themselves to indulge in ) at the end of the month to tie the ends together. H

Ek mahal ho sapno ka …… “kabar man jai ne su so to faristao ubha karse Ahin befaam koi pan jagah tari nathi hoti “ - Barkat “befaam” Virani A house has changed many a psychological forms since times. To us it is an investment opportunity and inadvertently all of us think of our homes as property- an asset class with a marketable value. For our parents it was an aspiration.. a realization of their dreams ,a fruition of their struggles .. a loan from HDFC ( the only housing loan available then ) paid @ 18% interest, the do deewane is sahar main ..ek aabudana thoondte hain “ kind of thrill. For our grandparents the home had no attachable value.. it was a consumable to be used lifelong ;preserved and used with no thoughts entertained about parting from it. But the house .. a home of MY OWN is the single largest dream known to all man. “chacha .. bahut aachi khabar hain .. hum log ko permanent ghar milne wala hai.. Zhopadpati Navnirman Program hain BMC ka ..court ka orde

Pyar ke side effects! Yeh story hain do doston ki . Naam Abhijeet aur Siddharth. Dono cricket ke khiladi the aur cricket ki hare Indian ki tarah pooja karte the. That was until Pooja came into their lives. Abhijeet Hirani and Siddharth Asar were great friends and their friendship emanated from the fact that both of them played cricket – and played it really bad. Siddharth whose idol was Sachin ( though Sidd was left handed) had ambitions of opening the team batting. But he could not hit a football if it was thrown to him. When he tried to hit the cover drive the ball would edge to midwicket and when he tried to square cut like Saurav did all he could do was swing his bat wildly at the ball which if he was lucky would not edge to the slips.Abhi on the other end tried to swing the ball like Waqaur but found to his dismay that his ball never cross the 10mt mark and imperceptibly went short which at his pace would be perfect pull stroke for even a mediocre batsman.

" taro dushman tu che " - a gujrati saying. here is why : Kyunki saas bhi …. Their son was reputed in the entire family as being the most obedient of the lot ! they said he never did anything without asking his mother .. even playing football in college was affirmed by his Mummy .. and now he had done this to her !! One fine morning he had disclosed that he loved a girl and wanted to marry her : with or without consent. She and Mr.Shridhar ( his father) had to accept. And then he brought Shruti home. She was beautiful ( like the fair and lovely girl :as Mrs.Joshi called her ) with long wavy hair and a ringing laughter that filled their home.. a laughter that reverberated in Shri and Sonu ( her son Swaruup ) as an effect. Had she not loved them enough all these years that they had so quickly taken in to her !? Today she had taken a CL at work .. she was not feeling well. My god ! she will now interfere in my work the whole day. Trying to help .. may I cut the vegetabl

not every call that rings for a second and gets cut is a missed call ... here is why : Missed call … Mumbai was under siege ! with 7 bombs blasting along the western railways line ..the blood lines of Mumbai carrying a traffic of 25 lakhs commuters a day during the peak hours. And it was a peak hour. At 6.55 pm IST the bomb blasted in a 1 st class compartment in a Borivali bound train near Santacruz. Sam was lying somewhere along the grasslands between Vile Parle and Santacruz some 30mts away from the inferno that the train was now.. he was injured badly with shrapnel piercing his unconscious body like aabhlas on a Navrati dancer’s dress. Preeti bent over him trying to check his pulse.. praying .. for an indication that the boy was alive. Yes ! he was but he would not be for a long time ..she reckoned .. if he did not receive medical attention. Preeti an employee of the famous brokers Motilal Oswal was returning home on what was a smashing day at her workplace with the Sensex j