Is there anybody out there?

Untouched for years, my first brainchild, is there anybody out there?

What the fuck!

The drama that was played through the last night, which is not under control even after almost 24 hours of its commencement, was nothing less than the most dreaded nightmare of us Mumbaikars. For the facts, it was something unprecedented in independent India, something that would have easily gone in as a tall story if talked about earlier, and rightly so, because the way the drama unfolded in was simply unbelievable.

Around 20 - 25 men dock a ship at Sassoon dock, in the heart of Mumbai, with ammunition that outplayed the imagination of our top cops. They get inside what probably is one of the most known identities of Mumbai, The Taj, and later go on to destroy it; they go inside the Oberoi, which has been the prime face of Mumbai's extravagance over the years; and they also get inside the Cama hospital where patients were heartrendingly held hostages as in the formerly mentioned places. Moreover, some gunmen hijack police vans, and fire randomly at the common Mumbaikar. The men also cause a Taxi explosion at Vile Parle, leading to beliefs that the attack was going to spread over the suburbs too.

101 reportedly dead, and over 300 injured. We lose 3 top cops.

I managed to get back home safely from Malad which was thankfully an unaffected place, before I got hooked to the television that spoke of the grand scale attack that has shaken Mumbai at the roots.

What the hell! Isn't it utterly shameful that these men come right into the heart of Mumbai, and execute such a devastating plan? Can our intelligence be called even moderately intelligent if it wasn't aware of this efficacious plan? Is Mumbai police just good enough to harass middle class and lower - middle class people? Did they have no information network or disaster management scheme at all? And how the fuck could people dock ship loaded with heavy ammunition at the sea coast of Mumbai? Does our coastal security exist? Are there really so many loopholes in the security system the great city of Mumbai?

Is it an epitome of the incapability of our government to take a stand against the relentlessly repetitive terrorism? These and many other questions have haunted me since 9.40 pm, last night. I have perhaps missed many things that I would have written in a better state of mind. This is not an article. I don't care a shit for language or quality at the moment. It's time to get back at these people big time. Find them from their roots (which quite obviously lie to the north - west of India), and kill them! It's high time Manmohan did a Bush. It would surely require planning and patience but start the eradication process right away. The city of Mumbai that has given us so much over time cries for help. It's time to pay her back.

Anomaly

I’m holding on to the last strands of lucidity that I think I possess.
The sleep that I didn’t sleep is all pervasive.
She engulfs me like a thick mist.
She beckons me like a sweet temptress.
But I’m afraid it is not to be.
She will not let me enjoy her. Exploit her.
She would rather keep me waiting, so I don’t stop wanting her.
She delights in my agony, reminding me of Him.

He, the man of my dreams.
A face I can put a name to but not much else,
who has made me less than myself.
He says You’re my best friend.
He says I’m giving up on you.
He says You slut!
He puts himself first.
He lacks the courage to be vulnerable.
He is not faithful.

This elusive duo has shattered my existence.
Sleep.
Him.
Sleep.
Him.
I resent both.
I desire both.
I am scarred.
Living, but not alive.
My gut says this morbid state of being will not subside.

I am going out today, all dolled up.
The kohl in my eyes hides the circles around them.
Caused by the Two.
My archenemies.
Today I will rise
Above the power they hold over me.
I will defeat them.
Conquer Her and set Him free.

Again, a night!

It's 3 A.M. The darkness of the night intrigues me to write, and it's appearance provides me with the words. The window of my hall is half open. An astonishingly empty road separates me from the vast field on the other side of it. The road is lit by the light of a street lamp hidden behind the window. The light is intense on half of the road, and gets tame as I look towards the empty field, leaving passage for an evoking darkness to be seen and felt.

It's just a fractional part of the cosmic darkness spread over eternity that I am looking at. And how simply intriguing is the experience! These nights are transitory worlds. Experiencing them is a pleasure of an unmatchable satisfaction. The night comes to you with a new tale everyday. Hear it carefully until you, yourself, become one of the popular ones!

The Sinner's Paradise

As I sit by the window
and watch the sun go down,
down the cliff, the glittering waters fall
they've always stopped my frown

As I see the greens extending towards the horizon,
I see an angel gliding through the fields,
her beauty shines through as much as the sun,
the purity and the whiteness, it is love revealed

Her hair catches the flowing wind
Her hands make a slow breeze
I forget that I've sinned
as her gracious steps make the time freeze

She comes near, now closer to love I am
My hands on her hips
her kiss on my lips, a permanent ecstasy
I can't help but believe, real is this fantasy

She holds my hand
and caresses me tender,
but since I'm a sinner
why did God send her?

I'm lost in the trance
wanting the magic to continue,
but she's got to go, she's called back above
she whispers to me
"I am your angel
who's been looking for a chance
to replace your heart of hatred, with the heart of Love"

She lets go of my hand
and glides away into the sky,
She looks back with her diamond eye gaze
assuring me that
she'll be back soon, in a new phase

I rub my eyes and wake up from the beautiful dream

realize that the lost paradise awaits the sinner,
but the warmth in my heart confirms that God resides in me

so I'm ready to start again as a humble beginner.

The Drummer

A song was being played in the background. Two typical beats per second. The process was continuous. They all enjoyed and swayed to the song untill an aberration was heard. It was an extra beat. "Where did it come from?" They all wondered in unison.
"How did that transpire?" Most of them asked. "Was the sound unprecedented?" asked the others expressing panic.

She was unmoved and serene. She hardly bothered. "I have a different question," she announced,
"I wonder who the drummer was."

SkEtcH mE

lying down trying to figure out
me and myself
all i have are doubts
stuck in a corner with no help

trying to collect
pieces broken of the past,
to figure out myself
of a known me last

can u sketch me?
a figure in the shade?
can u figure me?
I'm a sketch never made

down and frayed
lost and never found,
though i prayed
hope never made a sound

weeks gone by
with nothing to remember,
can ticking time be a lie
like this onset of cold december?

free yet caged,
moving but still,
feeling yet numb,
is this HIS will?

can u sketch me?
a figure in the shade?
can u figure me?
I'm a sketch never made

in the light i lay
but wander still in the dark,
once bright as a sunny day
searching now for the lost spark

once i knew me
and knew myself,
now there's many me
and i can't find myself

can u sketch me?
even now a figure in the shade?
can u figure me?
i'm a sketch once made

The Comeback!

Well, many of us have truly longed for this moment.
Here I am, launching The FRW Magazine again.

FRW has come out of the sabbatical with a new structure, new ideas and the old fervor. It learned a lot in the time of inactiveness while introspecting on a large scale. Some of the major changes that FRW has gone through can be understood while reading the new features listed below.

1) Increased Flexibility: FRW will now have registered authors, who can post their articles, poems, reviews or any other random write-ups directly on the blog at any time and on any topic.

2) Freedom of Expression: In spite of it being one of the most important characteristics of the first era of The FRW Magazine, it will be implemented in a new manner this time. Anything that an authorised author posts shall go up without editing.
Spelling, grammar and content editing will be a responsibility of the respective authors.

3) No Editor: I, Mihir Chitre, will not trouble any of our writers with their write ups. Individual writers are solely entitled to them. I shall just be the blog admin.

4) How to get a login?: Our old writers will get a 'writer-invite' right away. Anyone else, who is interested in contributing to the blog, may contact us with a valid blog link or a demo article on edit.frwmag@gmail.com or/and (since multiple copies of the same mail do not cost more) mihirmumbaikar@gmail.com

Come on! Let's share a word again.

A Sabbatical

Dear readers,
Due to reasons, strong enough, The FRW Magazine shall be on a sabbatical for a month or two. We hope to return with the same fervor that was missing lately.

The exact dates and other details of all the happenings shall be updated on the blog.



** I shall miss FRW as much as anything else in the course of time. **



- Editor
(edit.frwmag@gmail.com)

The Prodigy

Once upon a time in the city of Zwolf, lived a painting prodigy. He did magic with colours. He painted not only people’s faces but also their emotions with a splendid elegance. His fame, fortune and skill were revered and envied across the country.

As the unidirectional time flew, the ace artist began to turn into a narcissist. He began to believe that there is no better artist than he, himself. He proclaimed ‘art’ to be esoteric, and would often deride others who called themselves ‘artists’. His influence on the city’s culture was immense, and his opinions were often understood as facts.

It rained that day. The morning was embellished with spectacular butterflies and the few rays of the morning sun which successfully made their way out through the clouds to reach a surface that blossomed with colours. The melodious chirping of birds provided a sublime musical effect to the beauty, and the breeze kissed the man’s face generating a heavenly delight inside his body. Naturally, the artist in him started releasing strong urges to paint the splendor all by himself and make it his own. He took out his paint brushes, as if he were challenging the nature; his colours, as if they were to compete with the ones that were dancing outside. And, now, on a clean, white drawing sheet hanging on one of the huge halls of his quaint villa, he was all set to duplicate, or rather better, the beauty outside.

Magical, as it may sound to a few, he finished the painting within a few minutes. He stared at it twice. With the first stare of scrutiny, he smelled it. And with the second one of a distinctive pride, he drank it.

“There!” he said to himself ardently, “Even the nature, itself, would be jealous of my artistry.”

And then, he turned around to, once again, fix his eyes on the show outside, as if to tease the nature. But his eyes changed the language, as if hit by bewilderment. It was merely for a few minutes that he had his eyes off the scene outside, and much to his surprise, the picture of the outside had changed its shades and skin. It was ravishing, just as it was before; but now, it was different. The artist was shocked to see this versatility, as if it exploded in his mind, destroying his pride in a single moment, and the very next moment, he was ashamed of himself for doing what he did throughout the morning.

“Thou art is greater in the truest smiles,
Thou beauty is superior in the eternal joys,” he uttered unclearly as he walked out of the house of his art, to get lost in the art of his house.

- Mihir Chitre
mihirmumbaikar@gmail.com

A Photograph

Delusions in the mirror,
Blood-smeared frames,
Caught his fancy,
Often.
And yet the brush lay
Unused, dry and colorless.

Lost in a delirium,
Counting his last pennies,
As a mellow tune
Drummed his ears,
He wondered sadly,
Was this the death knell?
Darkness filled his world.

As this picture was unraveled,
His dilapidated world came alive.
Onlookers gasped,
And she won her prize.
Her eye made his life,
A reverence.


- Janvi Gandhi
Janvi.87@gmail.com

The End of 'US'

It was two years since I was seeing her
Her sudden absence was causing a stir
It felt like I was fighting the world
I felt alone, so alone without my girl.

We stay away but it’s gonna be fast.
Not too long, will this feeling last.
Just stay together, she said to me.
We'll be one forever, she said to me.

I said yes. So I vividly remember.
But then how could I do this to her.
How could I forget that tear in her eye.
She could just whisper, couldn't even say good-bye.


And I! I asked my colleague for her body?!
Oh my God! I was so stupid and now so sorry.
We did it; without a fuss.
It was the end of love and trust.
No. It was the end of 'US'.


- Samir D. Bellare
sambell111@gmail.com

The Face

I saw a peculiar joy, enclosed in those eyelashes.
An unusual smile escaping that dispirited face,
After ages, there was a vigor amongst the ashes,
After ages, by the light, dark was embraced.

The smile widened its horizons.
The face blossomed with sheer ebullience.
The spark in his vivacious eyes paid a tribute to his optimism,
As I eulogized the mirror’s invention!



- Mihir Chitre
mihirmumbaikar@gmail.com

My Best Friend

I wish you were still alive. Fuck… why did you have to go? My brother, my heart, my fucking best friend! I had tried everything, everything possible to keep you safe. I used to keep telling you, keep warning you, keep pleading you… but you, you really never cared for what I had to say, did you? Would it have been so bad if you would have listened to me? For ONCE? You would have still been alive! You would have been somewhere far, far away from me, but you would have at least been alive!

I wish you didn't have to go. You were too nice, man. You were too fucking nice. You knew we can't be too nice if we have to survive in this world. We learnt that early enough, didn't we? This fucking world isn't a place where you are nice to each other. It's a place where you fight. You need to fucking fight for what you believe in. You need to fight to have your say. You need to fight to fucking survive! Did you forget that? Did you forget OUR goal? Isn't that why we were fighting? To survive? To have our say? To stand for what we believe in?

I wish things would have turned out right. But if they went wrong, it was only your fault. Only your fucking fault. You betrayed me, man. You betrayed all of us. You betrayed our fight. You betrayed yourself. You betrayed my dead mother and sister. How could you forget the atrocities of the Indian soldiers in our valley, in OUR home? How could you forget the death of your aunt, my mother? How could you forget Noor? She was only 12 years old! How could you fucking forget what they did to her? We were into this together! You had wanted to fight! How could you forget?? It was our fight! Our jehaad! You betrayed our cause… you betrayed our people, man. You shouldn't have turned snitch, brother. You shouldn't have.

I wish there was some way out. Even after what you did, even after I found out, I prayed to the Lord, to the Almighty, to tell me if there was a way out. There was no other way out man. That's why I had asked you to run away. I had asked you to run away, before it was too late. You should have left. You should have taken ammi with you and you should have left. Now how would I face her? What would I tell her? I was supposed to have your back! But you left no options, did you. I gave you enough warnings, enough signs, I told you enough times that you should go away, before they found out! But you couldn't fucking listen to me, could you?

I wish you would have understood. You thought it was the RIGHT thing to do, didn't you? Betraying your brother, betraying your family, betraying your people, that was the right thing for you? What did you turn into, brother? You had always honored our cause. There was only one more mission left. And then we would have been free. Forever. For the sake of the lives of a few hundred people, you betrayed your entire community? You knew, our cause demanded sacrifice. You were doing this for ammi. For my mother. For Noor. For the hundreds of Noors who the fucking Indian soldiers rape every single month! You knew, only a fucking blast can wake these people up. It's a cruel world out there. It was always going to be a life for a life. And you KNEW that! Then why did you turn snitch? It was our lives at stake. Against a few of theirs. And you chose them? You fucking chose them!

I wish there was an easier way for it all to end. I tried, brother. I tried. I prayed, day and night. I thought of all the possible ways in which it could have been easier. But there was no other way. There was not a single way. I didn't want them to find out. And trust me, they would have. They fucking would have found out. And then, and then they would have cut off your head. They would have punished you in front of ammi. I didn't want that! I didn't want ammi to suffer. At least now, at least now, they think that you died for our cause! At least now they think you died saving my life. You died a martyr, brother. You died a martyr. You are immortal now. I saved you from disgrace. I saved ammi from being condemned. I have done her a favour, I have done you a favour, I have done our community, our people a favour. And yet, I wish there was never a need to do this.

I wish you were still alive, my brother, my heart, my best friend! I wish you didn't have to go. I wish things would have turned out right. I wish there was some way out. I wish you would have understood. I wish there was an easier way for it all to end. And I really wish, I really fucking wish… I really fucking wish that I didn't have to kill you...

- Nikhil Taneja

nikhiltaneja@gmail.com

Two

Two folks saw the most spectacular of the sites,
Lit up the roads to reach unprecedented heights.
He laughed her smile once in a while,
she illuminated his darkness on every travelled mile.

His bewilderment came to party,
as he abstracted something upright,
She was lost in the peculiarity of the moment,
as she returned him the delight.

On her way back,
she wasn't lonely, though alone.
And he had sunk in the splendor,
like a crazy rolling stone.



- Mihir Chitre
mihirmumbaikar@gmail.com

The Rise and Fall of My Fantasy

Fantasy! As I came to think of it first, the word painted pictures of extraordinary characters studded with supernatural powers and pictures of ravishing women flaunting their bodies in minimal clothes, in front of my eyes. Though, as I gave it a deeper thought, many more aspects of the word invaded my mind in a short while. I observed that the very definition of the word fantasy has seen many changes in its dimensions with an increase in the number of days I have lived.

‘Fantasy’ once visited me with characters that outgrew realism and with an aura that exuded extravagance. It would be colourful and splendid and exorbitant. It was boundless. The only thing that stood between my fantasy and reality was time, which again was a fantasy (or perhaps, the only reality?). As a kid, I always believed that I were soon going to actualize the world of my fantasy, where everything was ruled by my dreamy, juvenile fanaticism, and I had the right to turn any ‘X’ to ‘Y’ at my will. In fact, then, I wouldn’t know why fantasy was fantasy and not reality. But I would always embellish my fantasyland with the most spectacular inputs I could think of, and would try and get a queer compensation for the much desired things that I could not experience in reality.

For me, fantasy has always been a way to live through a world that is unlikely to be actualized but, at the same time, is craved for. Over time, fantasy has permitted me to live in a specious world and satisfy some of my unrealistic desires at a superficial level with a remarkable consistency. In short, sweet fantasy has been my most lethal weapon against the harsh reality. Now, ‘how close can fantasy get to reality?’, ‘Can fantasy be perceived entirely as reality at a level of extremely high intensity?’, are questions whose answers range vast and are pretty controversial; but the concept can surely enable one to design his own world of mystic and permit him to be temporarily satiated with it by using dilatory strategies to avoid reality.

Today, life tells me that I am grown up enough to stop fantasizing. I see darkness scattered over every aspect of my life. Though I try and digest the fact as a byproduct of the austere process of growth and maturity, melancholy phases become unbearably long and torturous at times. A minor savior in such times is again my good old friend whom this article is about. And today, unlike my good old definition, fantasy isn’t about extravagance at all. Today, fantasy is just a true smile on my face with the anachronistic innocence that’s lost pointlessly in the course of time. It’s just a smile, a pristine smile! But unfortunately, now it’s fantasy; and by my definition, it’s the thing that is craved for but cannot simply be actualized.



- Mihir Chitre
mihirmumbaikar@gmail.com

Soaked

Atop the massive waves,
Of the deep blue ocean,
I walk along calmly,
Barefooted.
In glee, I wet myself to
Emerge, dry as the wind.

An unhurried express
Full of vacant passengers,
Drives me through wilderness
Till,
A besotted prince,
Returns to my kingdom,
Only to be driven away.

Tonight,
I lie at my bedside,
Reliving my other,
Exploring the world within,
I am soaked in fantasy.


- Janvi Gandhi
janvi87@gamil.com

Primal Instinct

Sex! Male or female, everyone wants it, but not everyone admits it. No wonder then, that everyone's so sexually frustrated. We always underplay this instinct that's been around since the time of cellular beings. You need to switch to Airtel and express yourself (who'd want the Hutch puppy jumping into bed at a perfectly intimate moment anyway?). Sex has been connecting people even before Nokia was just a way of telling people you were rejected.

One of the major reasons sex isn't spoken about as freely as, say, chocolate ice cream is that it's an activity (naturally) involving a male and female and the two hardly understand each other. Women expect men to pick up subtle signals like Dish TV (Ha, girls, thoda AUR wish karo). Men, well, the less said the better. You see, kinks in men's amour are the chinks in men's armour. Every ass only wants a piece of, well, ass. Someone said: Women give sex for love. Men give love for sex (of course there are exceptions such as *ahem* me and homosexuals). I'm sure whoever said that never got any more sex in his life. So it's really true that truth hurts eh? Ouch!

I'm sure moans, hormones and harmony have the same origin. What I really don't understand is how sex went from “woohoo!” to taboo. Who brought civilization to sex? Or sex to civilization for that matter? Sex is best enjoyed with animalistic passion (I guess, I wouldn't know), a sort of primal instinct. I mean, there wasn't really a need to make it ethical/moral/religious, was there? Don't try to make sex 'propah' is what I'm saying. Let it remain a natural activity between two that brings pleasure to both (Usually one! Men, are you listening? the girls aren't satisfied). It's a natural desire, like hunger or peeing. Like Nike, you've gotta just do it. But like Reebok, we keep running from discussing it. Well, I'll confess that for most of us, who look the way we do, sex is just a distant fantasy. But buck up people, impossible is nothing. If you aren't so choosy, I'm sure you'll find some action.

Sex is, without a doubt, the most powerful expression of love; and of course, the climax of lust. The most beautiful (transgender) activity two people can indulge in. Having said that, let's keep it safe and beautiful. The importance of protection cannot be overstated. I now know why that pestilence on computers is called a virus. It's easy to see the correlation. One infected pen drive can infect every motherboard. Similarly, one man's overdrive can infect every mother (to be) bored. And of course, you know how the other pen drives too get affected. In the time I take to write this article, 235 people will have died of AIDS. And of course there are other diseases like Herpes, Hepatitis (not to mention addiction) too, that spread through sex easily. In a very short while, the only activity that produces people will also be the very activity that destroys the most. Not only can sex make a person's day, it can also make a person! And kill him/her too. So keep it safe, okay?




- Nikhil Kini
Nikhil.skinny@gmail.com

The Sea of Fantasy

“I want to go alone to the beach next Tuesday,” I said to mom. “You know that’s not possible, sweetheart. Moreover, we do take you there every week, because you love it so much”

“But it’s not the same with you all around!”

I had decided firmly at that very moment that I wanted to go alone. I have had a close affinity towards the sea ever since as long as I remember. It began when mom and dad took me there for the first time. They had thought that I would like it there. In fact, I had fallen in love with it the very same day. Then week after week, they have been taking me there every Sunday evening. And of course, with every other visit, my love for it has just grown. There are a lot of people and a lot of chaos on Sundays. At times, it irritates me since then I cannot enjoy the visit wholeheartedly. That’s why I wanted to go on a weekday. I didn’t want to share the place with other people, not even mom and dad. I did not want the sanctity of the moment to be spoilt by other people’s presence.

Mom always holds my hands as we walk towards the shore. I didn’t want that. I wanted to touch the waves with my hands. I wanted to feel the waves as they touched my feet – the waves I’d heard so many times. They sounded so magical, as if calling out to me. I would jump on them a hundred times and splash water all around with every jump. It would be fun to have the water splash on my face. The water would then trickle down my face and I would feel it against my cheeks like a kiss. I wanted to walk the entire length of the beach; all by myself. I wanted to feel the sand playing with the back of my feet, trying to mingle with my toes, teasing me. Then, when I would grow tired of walking, I would just lie down on the sand and go to sleep for a while. I wanted to feel the coldness of the sand below me. I wanted to feel the warmth of the setting sun above me. It would feel like a tight embrace from someone you loved. After I wake up, I would buy balloons, the gas ones. And I will stand on the shore, and right when the waves kiss my feet, will fly them away. I will stay back till late evening. I want to be there when the sun sets.

It has always been a fantasy to watch the sun-set with my own eyes. I had heard mom and dad always talking about the sun-set looking so beautiful. They used to describe it as one of the most beautiful things they had ever seen. They say the sky looks orange and the sea glows in the light as the sun tries to touch the sea. I have always tried to give people and things a face; a face which would not necessarily be theirs. But I associate them that way. But it is a challenge for me to give a correct picture to the sun-set. I have seen the sun-set so many times in my fantasies and it looks different each time. I don’t know what orange is. I don’t even know, how the sea, which I have always loved so much, looks like. I can just feel its vastness. I can hear its constant turbulence. I can only touch it as it advances towards me with some kind of an exigency; perhaps it will always be a fantasy to see it outside of my eyes.



- Divya Shetty
divya_infinity@yahoo.com

Fantasy Ride

I want to be a superhero. I want to fly high, across the world. I want to fly into all the toy stores and get whatever I like. I want to be a superhero.

When I will be a superhero, people will flock around to see me. I will be popular and I will have my own trendy outfit. All the kids in my class will look up to me. I am a superhero. Everyone knows me. I have magical powers to make all my dreams come true. I am a cool superhero.

I have grown up a little. I want to grow more. I want to grow older a little, to watch TV when I want to. To go to the mall by myself and buy myself all the ice-cream I want. I want to grow up a little, so I can finally have a room of my own, a computer of my own and eventually a world of my own.

I have grown up a little more… I want to end up in a great college, a great college with great friends and a great degree. I want to have loads of cool friends around me. I want to have loads of fun. I want to be able to do all those things college kids in the movies do. Flirt a little, play a few pranks and have big laughs.

I have grown up a little more. I want to end up with that person I fancy. I want him to hold me; I want him to whisper sweet nothings to me. I want him to fancy me as much as I fancy him. I want us to hold hands at sunset on a long, lonely beach. I want him.

Oh man, time has passed. I have grown up even more. I want to land the best job with a great pay-packet. I could use that money to get fancy things for my Mum, Dad and friends. I would spend money I have earned doing things I have always wanted to do. Go to the pub, go shopping, travel the world.

Time has passed yet again. I want to get ahead of all my contemporaries. I want to be the most successful one. I want to have a fat bank balance, a plush apartment, a fancy car and of course everything fancy. I want to be known as the best of the best. Wherever I go, people should talk about me. They should know me. I should be respected.

Now I am an old lady, watching the sunset in the distance. Trying to point to that long lonely beach, I may have walked in my fantasy. So what, if my fingers are crooked and my vision blurry! I still fantasize. I want to go back again and fantasize about those beautiful things all over again, even if they didn't come true. The moment of fantasizing gives me enough joy to bring a smile on my wrinkled face.



- Shakti Salgaokar
shaktijs@gmail.com