<?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-1578367670213425230</id><updated>2011-12-07T11:26:46.343-08:00</updated><category term='Islam'/><category term='Our Civil Wedding'/><category term='Ghajini'/><category term='Poems'/><category term='Democracy'/><category term='Muslims'/><category term='Moderate'/><category term='Saudi Arabia'/><category term='Review'/><title type='text'>Moon Struck</title><subtitle type='html'>I see the moon, the moon see's me.
The moon see's somebody that I don't see. 

God bless the moon and God bless me, 
and God bless the somebody that I don't see. 

If I get to Heaven before you do,
I'll make a hole and pull you through.
I'll write your name on every star,
and that way the world won't seem so far.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>44</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-8368953221488121651</id><published>2011-09-02T08:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-16T08:36:07.704-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Being Human</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;I've always been crediting myself with the nonsense of being more spiritual than religious, but lately I've been in this oblivion and have come to accept that I'm neither spiritual nor religious 'I am only daringly human!' A human with a need for God. With a need for something out there that makes more sense than my life does, is more responsible than I am, and is holier than I am. I am tired of answering to my own self, my own deep set values and my own chivalrous ego. I am counting on God to make sense of it all. Is it sad that I am waiting for the end to understand why it all began?&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/1578367670213425230-8368953221488121651?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/8368953221488121651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=8368953221488121651' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/8368953221488121651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/8368953221488121651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2011/09/being-human.html' title='Being Human'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-888599642850020703</id><published>2011-09-01T09:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-02T12:49:49.808-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Switching off.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I started off this week valuing integrity and honor , I believed in this quote&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;“You cannot make yourself feel something you do not feel, but you can make yourself do right in spite of your feelings.” ~ Peal S. Buck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt; I still believe this but now I think there has to be more. There has to be give and take it can't just be give, it can't just be take. I cannot always do what's right without filling a void of what's needed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I am ending this week with honesty and awareness. I have come to a conclusion that even though most of the time we must do what is right, sometimes we need to focus on what's necessary. it's time for me to switch off to focus on what must be done. I was speaking to a dear friend this morning and I realized that even though sometimes we tend to complicate simple things there are times when we try hard to oversimplify or ignore complicated things. Sometimes things are not as easy as we wish them to be and we must learn to respect the gravity of the situation rather than ignore it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I must switch off, if not I will continue to try too hard. I must switch off, if not I continue to give too much, I must switch off , if not I will be forced to burn out and I am not ready to burn out. &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/1578367670213425230-888599642850020703?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/888599642850020703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=888599642850020703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/888599642850020703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/888599642850020703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2011/09/switching-off.html' title='Switching off.'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-1252786810501790799</id><published>2011-08-23T09:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-03T09:19:18.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pride is a deadly sin.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;I refuse to revere people who are quick to judge. It is their inflated ego that gives them limited perspective and a false sense of grandiosity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I refuse to revere people who can only see their ordeal and never see the other person's pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I refuse to revere people who can only hear words but can never see tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't be blinded by your pride.&lt;br /&gt;Even Heaven has no place for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-1252786810501790799?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/1252786810501790799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=1252786810501790799' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/1252786810501790799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/1252786810501790799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2011/08/pride-is-deadly-sin.html' title='Pride is a deadly sin.'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-673392429547228537</id><published>2011-08-19T09:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-03T10:07:31.132-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Quran defining itself</title><content type='html'>Naif Al-Mutawa, my favorite Clinical Psychologist and the creator of the comic book series 'THE 99' wrote an essay about this: &lt;a href="http://al-mutawa.com/?Let_the_Qur%27an_define_itself"&gt;http://al-mutawa.com/?Let_the_Qur%27an_define_itself&lt;/a&gt; and here are my thoughts:&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;"&gt;It’s just common sense isn’t it? That after every Salaat if we ask Allah for guidance it is because we know that everything is not just black and white, there is a grey area. If we were to be parrots or even angels for that matter we wouldn’t have to worry about sensibility. The fact that Allah has given us free will and asked us to seek guidance and knowledge is proof enough for me that depth and perception is required and a must in Islam. In terms of language I think the essence maybe lost in translating it so we must try our best to learn Arabic however restricting it’s revelation and reading it without understanding, I believe loses then main premise of Allah’s revelation. It is said “So We have made this (the Quran) easy in your own tongue (O Muhammad, SWT), only that you may give glad tidings to the Muttaqun (the pious) and warn with it the Ludd (the evil doer) people.” Chapter 19, Verse 97. The Quran was revealed in Arabic as it was the Prophets native tongue and the language spoken and written by the people in that area. Arabic is a beautiful language that can be written concisely and no one can seriously translate the authenticity of Allah’s words or even capture the literally miracles presented in the Quran, but the Quran is revealed as ‘A Book for All’ and that’s how it should be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 14px; font-size: small; "&gt;Here is an amazing video regarding the literally miracles in the Quran:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;a href="http://thedeenshow.com/show.php?action=detail&amp;amp;id=1456"&gt;http://thedeenshow.com/show.php?action=detail&amp;amp;id=1456&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="font-size: 11px; text-align: right; "&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10.0pt;font-family:&amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/1578367670213425230-673392429547228537?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/673392429547228537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=673392429547228537' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/673392429547228537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/673392429547228537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2011/08/quran-defining-itself.html' title='The Quran defining itself'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-550633235085792810</id><published>2011-08-05T07:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-01T09:43:02.282-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Qi.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Arial;color:black;background:white"&gt;‘&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 9pt;"&gt;The other day I learned something through my own vision… I was focusing on one small point and after a while every thing else around it was slowly turning blurry, I would’ve experienced this many times as I’m sure many of you have. If you haven't you should &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 9pt;"&gt; try it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 9pt; font-style: italic; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 9pt; "&gt;Try focusing your vision on a small object for a while and you’ll notice that not just the surrounding but even the object you are focusing on loses visibility, the object of your focus becomes hazy as though your mind is losing it’s ability to process. Similarly in life if we focus too long on one thing, we are unable to see all the other important things that come with it, our brain loses its ability to process reality.’ &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 9pt;"&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;wrote that a long time ago.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Arial;color:black;background:white"&gt;Funny sometimes are own lessons are forgotten in search of new ones. I had forgotten how easily one can lose focus on the issue at hand and make something completely else the center of ones world. Almost like trading spaces to create a better one but in the end forgetting what we were really trying to fix. Our mind is really good at playing tricks on us, it is easy for it to create scenarios when one's judgment is clouded, biased, or faith in something too strong. Maybe that is why some people hear voices. Maybe the cloudiness of one's mind and emotions is what causes auditory hallucinations. Apparently hearing voices is ‘one of the most awe-inspiring, terrifying, and ill-understood tricks the human psyche is capable of,’ &lt;sup&gt;Psychology Today&lt;/sup&gt; and not all of them are bad. Some maybe inspirational, motivational and even capable of guidance; but when they take over ones psyche it can become an impending problem. Okay but to ease your tension I do not hear voices in my head. I do however have two very obnoxious inner voices that can battle it out to the brink of insanity, but apparently inner voices are normal. I just wish they would shut-up sometimes. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Arial;color:black;background:white"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Arial;color:black;background:white"&gt;I have been playing scrabble a lot nowadays and I tend to play the word ‘Qi’ quite often. Forgetting it's meaning and not realizing how much I’ve messed up and ignored my own balance in life. I let the voices overtake my judgment and cause inner drift of my yin and yang. After much argument and critically acclaimed performances by my inner soul, I’ve come to realize I was being distracted from the bigger picture. I was off-focus in many ways and was fighting really hard to find balance. Disregarding the fundamental step of taking a break and breathing. Accepting my energy and matter around me for what it really is, accepting me and others for who they really are; without prejudice, without doubt, without fear. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Arial;color:black;background:white"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Arial;color:black;background:white"&gt;To you without prejudice:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:black; background:white"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;Sometimes you do need to be slapped in the face to realize what you already know. I'm not the center of your world and you're not the center of mine.  Sometimes known facts can be easily ignored. You have been and will always be a vital part of my world though; because you’ve helped me recognize a different side of me that I can’t help but love. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:black; background:white"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:black; background:white"&gt;To you without doubt:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:black; background:white"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;I did forget who you are to me and what you mean in my life. Sometimes we forget to measure the most important ingredient in life not realizing how sour we may be making it. Life does throw lemons your way and I must learn to admit that some will be too bitter for lemonade. I need to learn to figure out what is right for us. I need to learn to trust you more and accept you without judgment. I need to focus on 'US' and not just 'You' and not just 'Me' and not just the world around our feet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:black; background:white"&gt;To you without fear:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "&gt;Sometimes when one outlet is clogged I must create a new one and sometimes another new one. There is no spoken rule on outlets just rules on trust. I sometimes forget that I do not have to tell the whole world the whole truth just the ones who matter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:black; background:white"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10.0pt"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-550633235085792810?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/550633235085792810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=550633235085792810' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/550633235085792810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/550633235085792810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2011/08/qi.html' title='Qi.'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-3268803624708496150</id><published>2011-04-05T07:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-05T07:44:49.184-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If I should have a daughter, instead of Mom, she's gonna call me Point B</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;    &lt;w:dontgrowautofit/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable  {mso-style-name:"Table Normal";  mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;  mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;  mso-style-noshow:yes;  mso-style-parent:"";  mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;  mso-para-margin:0in;  mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;  mso-pagination:widow-orphan;  font-size:10.0pt;  font-family:"Times New Roman";  mso-ansi-language:#0400;  mso-fareast-language:#0400;  mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/sarah_kay_if_i_should_have_a_daughter.html"&gt;http://www.ted.com/talks/sarah_kay_if_i_should_have_a_daughter.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;If I should have a daughter, instead of Mom, she's gonna call me Point B, because that way she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I'm going to paint solar systems on the backs of her hands, so she has to learn the entire universe before she can say, "Oh, I know that like the back of my hand." And she's going to learn that this life will hit you hard in the face, wait for you to get back up just so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air. There is hurt here that cannot be fixed by Band-Aids or poetry. So the first time she realizes that Wonder Woman isn't coming, I'll make sure she knows she doesn't have to wear the cape all by herself. Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I've tried. "And, baby," I'll tell her, don't keep your nose up in the air like that. I know that trick; I've done it a million times. You're just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house, so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else find the boy who lit the fire in the first place, to see if you can change him." But I know she will anyway, so instead I'll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boots nearby, because there is no heartbreak that chocolate can't fix. Okay, there's a few heartbreaks that chocolate can't fix. But that's what the rain boots are for. Because rain will wash away everything, if you let it. I want her to look at the world through the underside of a glass-bottom boat, to look through a microscope at the galaxies that exist on the pinpoint of a human mind, because that's the way my mom taught me. That there'll be days like this. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;♫&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; There'll be days like this, my momma said. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;♫&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;;"&gt; When you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises; when you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you want to save are the ones standing on your cape; when your boots will fill with rain, and you'll be up to your knees in disappointment. And those are the very days you have all the more reason to say thank you. Because there's nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's swept away. You will put the wind in windsome, lose some. You will put the star in starting over, and over. And no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute, be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life. And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting, I am pretty damn naive. But I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily, but don't be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it. "Baby," I'll tell her, "remember, your momma is a worrier, and your poppa is a warrior, and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more." Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things. And always apologize when you've done something wrong. But don't you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining. Your voice is small, but don't ever stop singing. And when they finally hand you heartache, when they slip war and hatred under your door and offer you handouts on street-corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-3268803624708496150?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/3268803624708496150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=3268803624708496150' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/3268803624708496150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/3268803624708496150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2011/04/if-i-should-have-daughter-instead-of.html' title='If I should have a daughter, instead of Mom, she&apos;s gonna call me Point B'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-447527220097968842</id><published>2011-02-19T09:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-19T09:22:15.843-08:00</updated><title type='text'>funny sh**</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; "&gt;&lt;img border="0" class="imageborder" name="mainimg" src="http://images5.cpcache.com/product_zoom/328844035v4_400x400_Front_Color-LightPink.jpg" alt="T-Shirt" id="productImageLarge" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; " /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; "&gt;sorry if this offends anybody.&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/1578367670213425230-447527220097968842?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/447527220097968842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=447527220097968842' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/447527220097968842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/447527220097968842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2011/02/funny-sh.html' title='funny sh**'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-2080494585188292127</id><published>2011-01-13T15:33:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-14T05:42:41.562-08:00</updated><title type='text'>We are all in this together</title><content type='html'>Death is a part of life&lt;br /&gt;Life initiates at birth&lt;br /&gt;Birth awakens the soul&lt;br /&gt;The Soul is on a journey&lt;br /&gt;The journey is a path to truth&lt;br /&gt;Truth is the way to God.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-2080494585188292127?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2080494585188292127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=2080494585188292127' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/2080494585188292127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/2080494585188292127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2011/01/we-are-all-in-this-together.html' title='We are all in this together'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-1020432914871637102</id><published>2011-01-09T08:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-09T08:39:12.766-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rumi</title><content type='html'>The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. &lt;br /&gt;Don't go back to sleep. &lt;br /&gt;you must ask for what you really want. &lt;br /&gt;Don't go back to sleep. &lt;br /&gt;People are going back and forth across the doorsill&lt;br /&gt;where the two worlds touch. &lt;br /&gt;The door is round and open. &lt;br /&gt;Don't go back to sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-1020432914871637102?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/1020432914871637102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=1020432914871637102' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/1020432914871637102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/1020432914871637102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2011/01/rumi.html' title='Rumi'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-5437504265010382262</id><published>2010-12-27T12:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-27T14:27:00.936-08:00</updated><title type='text'>20 days.</title><content type='html'>So my email break lasted for 20 days. I do not think I am ready yet to be back completely. I do have a problem, &amp;amp; yes, it does exist! I am way to connected to the internet than I want to be, should be or would like to be. My hubby dearest reactivated my facebook account for 2 mins by mistake and I ended up with multiple notifications of people congratulating me on becoming an Aunt.. Yes my dearest Niece is finally in Town and is adorable :) Thank you all for your comments, sorry I coudln't reply on fb or via email (discipline).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am still demanding distance from the internet as I do not think I can handle the addiction. So please try not to tempt me by NOT giving me any updates now n' then. I enjoy your messages, your subtle desire for me haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, more later my lovelies..&lt;br /&gt;xoxo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-5437504265010382262?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/5437504265010382262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=5437504265010382262' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/5437504265010382262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/5437504265010382262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2010/12/20-days.html' title='20 days.'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-1164741035394238488</id><published>2010-12-07T16:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T14:36:27.100-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Procrastination</title><content type='html'>I am temporarily leaving gmail, msn and facebook. I will try and blog now and then to get some sort of writing in. I need some time off as I have realized how addicted I am to receiving and sending emails &amp; msgs. Lets see, if this works out even for a day. You can comment on here if you need to talk. Much Love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-1164741035394238488?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/1164741035394238488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=1164741035394238488' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/1164741035394238488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/1164741035394238488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2010/12/procrastination.html' title='Procrastination'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-5618070996806130102</id><published>2010-12-06T09:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T18:09:03.246-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Holiness for good.</title><content type='html'>I am a little tired of religious tags being related to charity and giving. I get really upset when people say "oh don’t donate through this website as we are propagating their religion by doing so". Religious propaganda through a noble cause sounds absurd to me. I am not denying the occurrence but, I honestly don’t think that far; do the kids who receive these gifts? Or the poor who is blessed with a single meal in a shelter worry about what religion is providing for him/her? My cause seems much bigger than their tag line. Isn’t that enough? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sure we have charities around that do not have religious tags but then people point out "oh, but that’s from a Western country or a Muslim country" that apparently is clue enough for a child or a person distressed with tragedy to figure out the significant background, how far-fetched! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No they don’t care, all they are worried about is life, and that is all we should care about as well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not because God asked me to help my fellow human being but because I can. &lt;br /&gt;Be good for what it’s worth; a life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-5618070996806130102?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/5618070996806130102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=5618070996806130102' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/5618070996806130102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/5618070996806130102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2010/12/holiness-for-good.html' title='Holiness for good.'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-5852632310712526832</id><published>2010-12-05T11:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-05T11:52:34.092-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Here and Now</title><content type='html'>Forever eclipsed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-5852632310712526832?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/5852632310712526832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=5852632310712526832' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/5852632310712526832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/5852632310712526832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2010/12/here-and-now.html' title='Here and Now'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-6102372978149810686</id><published>2010-12-03T05:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T18:11:05.677-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Haunted by Jennifer’s Ghost.</title><content type='html'>I am haunted by Jennifer’s ghost; a complete oddity, undeniably annoying and yet sacred. Constantly gazed up on, as though I’m being followed by her soul, and her reminder retaliating with every step I take. As if the epic inner battle of my conscience was not enough of a burden, now she has left me fearing my end, revering my life and sincerely questioning ‘can it be today, tomorrow, or the day after?’ can this life of mine suddenly end. Have I messed up too much? Have I apologized for all the times I have messed up? Have I asked God for forgiveness? Have I done enough good with this life of mine? Was her part in my life to recognize this fear? To recognize that spirits may not come back to haunt you but the thought of their demise can and will haunt you forever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-6102372978149810686?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/6102372978149810686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=6102372978149810686' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/6102372978149810686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/6102372978149810686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2010/12/haunted-by-jennifers-ghost.html' title='Haunted by Jennifer’s Ghost.'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-3742642839681203339</id><published>2010-11-30T05:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-02T15:36:25.930-08:00</updated><title type='text'>With you I change.</title><content type='html'>If you were not a part of me, would I still be me? Yes but the flavor would be different, it would make me a different me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So thank you all for being a part of me. I am unique because of you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-3742642839681203339?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/3742642839681203339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=3742642839681203339' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/3742642839681203339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/3742642839681203339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2010/11/in-time-i-change.html' title='With you I change.'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-6676789180880026967</id><published>2010-11-29T05:36:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-29T05:36:15.657-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Light up the world...</title><content type='html'>Just remember, the light within your soul is what brightens the world... So keep it glowing, you have the most important job in the world :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-6676789180880026967?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/6676789180880026967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=6676789180880026967' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/6676789180880026967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/6676789180880026967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2010/11/light-up-world.html' title='Light up the world...'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-4115889524004737146</id><published>2010-11-28T13:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T20:11:12.105-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It is me.</title><content type='html'>It may be a playground for my soul... but the earth digs deep into my veins freezing my bones. We often seize at the thought of our end but forget about the beginning, the beginning where the soul is free from free will and is ready to live for eternity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am the shadow of myself, for it is me who lives within this body. It is me who see's the wonders, it is me who see's the depth. I am loved by myself, for it is me who enters this world. It is me who knows what love is, it is me who feels the pain. It is my soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My soul is my shadow, my soul is my heart, my soul is my love, my soul is my senses, my soul is free of gender and my soul is forever timeless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-4115889524004737146?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/4115889524004737146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=4115889524004737146' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/4115889524004737146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/4115889524004737146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2010/11/it-is-me.html' title='It is me.'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-1504899697552041437</id><published>2010-09-14T20:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-15T07:18:09.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Forgotten me.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 18px;font-size:12;" class="Apple-style-span" &gt;In a richer pasture of life, I have found the truth between green and dye. I am but a servant of God who has been given free will to forge the gap between destiny and child. ~ Falak. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 18px;font-size:12;" class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 18px;font-size:12;" class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;With no sense at all I wander through the night. My eyes seek what I deeply yearn, a glimpse of thee, in a wandering path of existence. To me I am forever challenging my boundaries, trying hard to be a little less human a little more saint. Oh, how it pains my desires to let go of its needs, in hopes of a better tomorrow a more revered soul. I’ve come to believe that the soul is the true existence, our body is a mere avatar but our soul has no memory of what we truly are, it can only provide us with glimpses.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Our true expectations, wants and needs were erased from our memory prior to being sent down to earth. We succumb to what we see, what we believe to be real. The need of our body take over the needs of our soul, for who we are is lost somewhere in transit in our fatal subconscious. I only have a loud voice in my heart that tells me to keep believing; and I do, I merely do. This search for greatness is what keeps me believing that there is something out there worth finding, worth being mortal for. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;~ Me. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/1578367670213425230-1504899697552041437?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/1504899697552041437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=1504899697552041437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/1504899697552041437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/1504899697552041437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2010/09/forgotten-me.html' title='Forgotten me.'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-3656940218314801724</id><published>2010-07-30T22:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-30T23:06:39.931-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Complex Reality</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:1.1in"&gt;I sit here at 12:09 AM, a bit confused, not because I do not understand the content but because I do not know where or how to begin. My mind wanders from one topic to the next jumping constantly from psychology to philosophy. Wondering if any of this is the truth? Are my thoughts a mere fascination of the ‘What if’ scenario? Is the entire cosmic energy making me aware of who, I truly am? A possible ‘Thinker’; I didn’t know that could even be considered relevant. Not knowing what to think of me being a thinker or even coming close to realizing what qualifies me as one I took a little quiz on BBC.com called the ‘Thinker Quiz’ and this is the result of my thinker quiz:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:1.1in"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/science/leonardo/thinker_quiz/results_and_answers.shtml"&gt;http://www.bbc.co.uk/science/leonardo/thinker_quiz/results_and_answers.shtml&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:1.1in"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: auto;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.bbc.co.uk/science/leonardo/images/thinker_quiz/results/existential.jpg" width="89" height="100" alt="Existential thinker" /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: auto;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: auto;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You are an Existential Thinker&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: auto;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: auto;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Existential thinkers:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: auto;"&gt;&lt;ul style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-left: 22px; "&gt;&lt;li style="clear: both; "&gt;Like to spend time thinking about philosophical issues such as "What is the meaning of life?"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="clear: both; "&gt;Try to see beyond the 'here and now', and understand deeper meanings&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="clear: both; "&gt;consider moral and ethical implications of problems as well as practical solutions&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Like existential thinkers, Leonardo questioned man's role in the universe. Many of his paintings explored the relationship between man and God.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Other Existential Thinkers include&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Buddha, Gandhi, Plato, Socrates, Martin Luther King&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Careers which suit Existential Thinkers include&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Philosopher, Religious leader, Head of state, Artist, Writer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:1.1in"&gt;I must say, that’s quite an improvement on where I was a few minutes ago. Now I at least know part of who I am. No, I’m not trying to flatter myself by the comparison with such great personalities, but I quite agree with the results. I do spend most of time thinking about God, the Universe and just trying to understand our purpose of existence. People who know me would probably vouch for that. They’ve heard me talk immensely about spiritualism, about my fascination with the Universe, and God in general. I truly, believe that the everything in the Universe is connected, I sit here wide awake tonight for a purpose, the butterflies the bees, my bird sleeping contently in the living room, are all present for a bigger reason than I can contemplate. My attraction towards certain books, certain ideas, or movies all&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;stem from the Universe trying to get me where I am meant to be in the distant future. I believe that someday I will be able to think freely, without worrying about coming back to the grim reality of the work force. I believe that only I can be my worst enemy by failing to recognize my being. I believe that my purpose in life is much bigger than what meets the eye and I am out to attain it. InshAllah, (God willing) I will succeed at being who I really am. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-3656940218314801724?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/3656940218314801724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=3656940218314801724' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/3656940218314801724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/3656940218314801724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2010/07/complex-reality.html' title='Complex Reality'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-5126656752102903768</id><published>2010-01-21T10:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T10:30:16.682-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ramble</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;No newspapers to read parked in the balcony with one leg crossed on top of the other. The internet has even saved me the trouble of flipping pages, trying to forge a busy morning by relaxing for a few minutes scrambling through the paper. All I have is a laptop that reliably lets me sit in bed till my butt gets numb or my eyes dim into a deep sleep. How mundane mornings have become for me, as I wave my husband good bye, I pray for a few minutes, make breakfast and plop right into bed with a cup of oatmeal/tea, and my beautifully crafted Sony VAIO. I Google random words like PayPal/jobs/weight loss/Azithromycin; follow a few people of Facebook, click on Home several times to see if there are others with nothing else to do but update their status. What a waste of time, but nevertheless it must be done, for I am lacking creativity and zest. As the day scouts by, I search for the regular jobs knowing very well I need to lie on my resume about my education qualifications if not I will not get a simple job that only requires a high school graduate. I pin my hopes nevertheless that truth will get me somewhere and even though I delete my qualifications, I go back and retype it, only to apply for another rejection. As the day dampens by now I have probably clicked on home a few 100 times, x-ed out of the website only to reopen it within 2 minutes. I wait in search of ideas of what to do, ways to be of use to humanity. Is not getting me into any trouble or causing anyone any trouble serving humanity as well? Is that enough to rest a peaceful soul at night?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;January 21st, 2010. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-5126656752102903768?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/5126656752102903768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=5126656752102903768' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/5126656752102903768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/5126656752102903768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2010/01/ramble.html' title='Ramble'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-2524015290814655988</id><published>2009-02-20T07:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T09:44:16.998-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Eyes shut</title><content type='html'>Today my thoughts are pensive, deep lived within my soul I gather what was told and lose what was foretold. I close my eyes and type my mind as it wanders through the desert green. My brain phantom’s a larger me not by size but by existence solely unclean. I have become what I was doomed an unreasonable brave soul and yet I am what I believe and still I live confused. How serene this world could be if we all closed our eyes and wandered. For my thoughts are stronger than the sight I see for my words more peaceful than my soul. I am writing this message solely blinded with my fingertips leading my mind, for I have always wanted to explore these territories which lay buried deep in my psyche. I speak for words unspoken, I lay a courageous fight. For I am what I perceive and yet I stay blind. If my husband saw me doing this he would know exactly what was wrong he knows me for who I am, my beauty kindled and spurned. He wishes I’d write a ballad or two, a love saga unsung. But my mind is so untrue to me as it drifts with its own new tune, like a river that inches with each droplet to make a pattern of seas. I wish I could write on forever and ever unstopping as my thoughts unfold but I live a life so demanding were work conceals the soul, for I have to make a future and that baffles my inner core. For I am what I believe and yet I am so bemused…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Nobody&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-2524015290814655988?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2524015290814655988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=2524015290814655988' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/2524015290814655988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/2524015290814655988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2009/02/eyes-shut.html' title='Eyes shut'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-4557184375998696437</id><published>2009-02-12T08:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T11:22:50.715-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reel Tour of Slumdog Millionaire</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SZRVdOvKKXI/AAAAAAAAAO0/Vi2Var95M2k/s1600-h/slumdog-01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301956621982378354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 169px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SZRVdOvKKXI/AAAAAAAAAO0/Vi2Var95M2k/s320/slumdog-01.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I watched this movie the weekend before the Golden Globe and I must say, if it didn’t win I would have been disappointed. My husband and I, along with our parents were glued to two different television screens (one in the dining and one in the master bedroom) &amp;amp; we just enthralled with joy every time we heard the words “…and the award goes to Slumdog Millionaire”. We jumped off the bed and ran to the kitchen to confirm that the other two had heard the same!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A beautiful story line encrypting the theme that love overcomes all circumstances, a fairy tale without castles or princesses. Just love! A story from friendship, to uncertainty, to devotion; from trust, to distrust to faith! It depicts what a pickle life can be and captures the theme of how the best man always and still wins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved the kids, Azharuddin Mohammed Ismail who played the youngest Salim and Ayush Mahesh Khedekar the youngest Jamal. I think these two were the true deservers of the awards. They were just amazing and so honest with their characters ! I wish all the three kids a better life in the future knowing that two of the kids (Azharuddin and Rubina Ali – youngest Latika) do live in the slums of Mumbai and as the controversy goes, haven’t been paid the compensation they deserve. But to give director Danny Boyle some credit he has been paying for their elementary and secondary schooling as neither child had been educated before and establishing “a substantial lump sum” payment for college tuition that will be distributed to the young boy and girl “when they complete their studies” as quoted by the director himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our happiest moment though while watching the ceremony was when A.R. Rahman (Rumen as they called him on stage) was awarded the best music score! That to me was India’s biggest victory that night. The only true Indian who won something that night, God bless him and his career. If you haven’t heard the soundtrack Mausam &amp;amp; Escape, you should definitely click on this link. &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_WOWIH41W4c"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_WOWIH41W4c&lt;/a&gt; Beautiful compilation by the Best in this generation!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;~ Falak Zaffer&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/1578367670213425230-4557184375998696437?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/4557184375998696437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=4557184375998696437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/4557184375998696437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/4557184375998696437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2009/02/reel-tour-of-slumdog-millionaire.html' title='Reel Tour of Slumdog Millionaire'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SZRVdOvKKXI/AAAAAAAAAO0/Vi2Var95M2k/s72-c/slumdog-01.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-827619434115863465</id><published>2009-01-24T16:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T16:49:27.617-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Certainty in Uncertain Times.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://z.about.com/d/politicalhumor/1/0/t/1/2/bush_economy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 409px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://z.about.com/d/politicalhumor/1/0/t/1/2/bush_economy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's a little scary when you have local banks in the area advertising that they have money to lend and commercials airing on television detailing how possible it is to lose your job by next year. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here is what Hyundai had to say: "Today, in addition to our warranty, we’re introducing Hyundai Assurance, to show you the faith we have in you. Right now, buy or lease any new Hyundai, and if in the next year you lose your income, we’ll let you return it. That’s the Hyundai Assurance. " &lt;a href="http://www.hyundaiusa.com/financing/HyundaiAssurance/HyundaiAssurance.aspx"&gt;http://www.hyundaiusa.com/financing/HyundaiAssurance/HyundaiAssurance.aspx&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We may trust you but we don’t trust the economy??!!&lt;/div&gt;&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/1578367670213425230-827619434115863465?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/827619434115863465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=827619434115863465' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/827619434115863465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/827619434115863465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2009/01/certainty-in-uncertain-times.html' title='Certainty in Uncertain Times.'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-3290358177153886221</id><published>2009-01-22T10:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T10:06:08.668-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just because...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SXi1bd2VLuI/AAAAAAAAAOc/yXBStDdUYV4/s1600-h/courage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294180845447622370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SXi1bd2VLuI/AAAAAAAAAOc/yXBStDdUYV4/s400/courage.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/1578367670213425230-3290358177153886221?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/3290358177153886221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=3290358177153886221' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/3290358177153886221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/3290358177153886221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2009/01/just-because.html' title='Just because...'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SXi1bd2VLuI/AAAAAAAAAOc/yXBStDdUYV4/s72-c/courage.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-1623254037852762586</id><published>2009-01-02T07:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T13:01:12.361-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Where is the love?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SV41SvvgiRI/AAAAAAAAAN0/FD3MUDdb3bg/s1600-h/1408654837_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286721608749189394" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 256px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 276px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SV41SvvgiRI/AAAAAAAAAN0/FD3MUDdb3bg/s320/1408654837_1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SV5AFJ5l-lI/AAAAAAAAAOU/j3LKXYH4Icg/s1600-h/f126_33_3kids_270.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286733469880547922" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 145px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SV5AFJ5l-lI/AAAAAAAAAOU/j3LKXYH4Icg/s200/f126_33_3kids_270.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SV4-Ng1YzMI/AAAAAAAAAN8/jal4mB6J2i4/s1600-h/bw27-fil.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286731414452620482" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 137px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SV4-Ng1YzMI/AAAAAAAAAN8/jal4mB6J2i4/s200/bw27-fil.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SV4-zZko2UI/AAAAAAAAAOE/goHy9kIMWJQ/s1600-h/image4688201.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SV4_k7amMyI/AAAAAAAAAOM/hHj6jjOPTfw/s1600-h/f126_33_3kids_270.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/middle_east/7807564.stm"&gt;http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/middle_east/7807564.stm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/south_asia/7800329.stm"&gt;http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/south_asia/7800329.stm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/nationworld/2008579447_wardead01.html"&gt;http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/nationworld/2008579447_wardead01.html&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/asiapcf/01/02/srilanka.war/index.html"&gt;http://www.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/asiapcf/01/02/srilanka.war/index.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/europe/article4486208.ece"&gt;http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/europe/article4486208.ece&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am petrified to even think what this New Year is going to bring? It has already started off with the never-ending killing between Israel and Palestine, tension building up between India and Pakistan and the poor American soldiers who are still stuck in Iraq for the war only Bush wanted to fight. How did we get here? Why is there so much bitterness in this world? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How I dread to believe this is only the beginning of what’s ahead this year. I am afraid, I am so afraid of how bad this is going to get. I don’t know if the world will ever see that we are all God’s children. We need to STOP, seriously stop! My heart hurts. I wish everyone else’s did too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2008/12/touch-of-solace.html"&gt;http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2008/12/touch-of-solace.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&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/1578367670213425230-1623254037852762586?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='' href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MJpyskHMwRs' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/1623254037852762586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=1623254037852762586' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/1623254037852762586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/1623254037852762586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2009/01/where-is-love.html' title='Where is the love?'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SV41SvvgiRI/AAAAAAAAAN0/FD3MUDdb3bg/s72-c/1408654837_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-8383533166316376306</id><published>2008-12-30T06:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T06:53:08.222-08:00</updated><title type='text'>More than just black n' white ~</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SVo1vhIutxI/AAAAAAAAANs/frS97nYVhWY/s1600-h/6520-1198700720.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285596203137808146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 140px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 525px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SVo1vhIutxI/AAAAAAAAANs/frS97nYVhWY/s400/6520-1198700720.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SVo1g8gHZyI/AAAAAAAAANk/eemricHeXVs/s1600-h/6520-1198700720.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-8383533166316376306?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/8383533166316376306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=8383533166316376306' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/8383533166316376306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/8383533166316376306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2008/12/more-than-just-black-n-white.html' title='More than just black n&apos; white ~'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SVo1vhIutxI/AAAAAAAAANs/frS97nYVhWY/s72-c/6520-1198700720.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-6542332949400532045</id><published>2008-12-25T06:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T06:42:32.863-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Be careful what you wish for this Christmas!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SVozScXQ-DI/AAAAAAAAANM/uJCoeAD7XBM/s1600-h/trees.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285593504617134130" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 333px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SVozScXQ-DI/AAAAAAAAANM/uJCoeAD7XBM/s400/trees.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SVozJ7NYUgI/AAAAAAAAANE/oFlSOs9fpec/s1600-h/trees.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SVox2_nSFGI/AAAAAAAAAM8/XaRnqNzRjT4/s1600-h/trees.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&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/1578367670213425230-6542332949400532045?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/6542332949400532045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=6542332949400532045' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/6542332949400532045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/6542332949400532045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2008/12/be-careful-what-you-wish-for-this.html' title='Be careful what you wish for this Christmas!'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SVozScXQ-DI/AAAAAAAAANM/uJCoeAD7XBM/s72-c/trees.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-9055847568327315047</id><published>2008-12-25T00:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T10:46:38.673-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Review'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ghajini'/><title type='text'>Reel Tour</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SVZ3s9gWAFI/AAAAAAAAAM0/AZFIpnyuXGk/s1600-h/Ghajini.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284542827074027602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 70px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SVZ3s9gWAFI/AAAAAAAAAM0/AZFIpnyuXGk/s400/Ghajini.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;The clock just clicked 12:00 am in Houston, Texas and I just returned after driving 40 miles one way to go watch the movie. The ride back from the theatre from I-10W to 288 South was rather quiet, with thoughts flowing with tensed intensity, as tears fogged up the sparkling Christmas lights through the dashboard. Memento had left me feeling disappointed and confused and with a doggie-bag of headache pills. Ghajini satisfied my need for a more focussed theme of 'Revenge' while keeping the psychological thriller alive. In short I was pleased by the way the story line was set in Ghajini except for the intense amount of violence that I did not foresee (my bad tho as I should've guessed with all the body building promos). However, I would not like to discredit the strong emotions being displayed through all the snorting, snarling and screams that portrayed a great paradigm of true frustration. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Revenge has always been a theme of my liking as it magnifies the endurance of the human body when emotions cord with the mind to achieve a single goal. On the whole I enjoyed the movie, I loved Aamir's acting as usual (probably a lot more convincing this time as an action hero). Asin was great and her character truly touched my heart. I personally did love Aamir's Bohemian look in the orange rolled up t-shirt and the purple shirt in the song 'Behka', reminded me a lot of Mark Kanemura from 'So you think you candance'. All in all, I liked the movie, Aamir did a great job, but he does owe me a happy movie now!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Till later ~ &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Falak Zaffer &lt;/div&gt;&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/1578367670213425230-9055847568327315047?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='' href='http://www.rememberghajini.com/' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/9055847568327315047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=9055847568327315047' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/9055847568327315047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/9055847568327315047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2008/12/review-worth-writing.html' title='Reel Tour'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SVZ3s9gWAFI/AAAAAAAAAM0/AZFIpnyuXGk/s72-c/Ghajini.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-2236329000598551065</id><published>2008-12-07T08:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T08:32:14.499-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Touch of Solace.</title><content type='html'>In times of hate in times of war,&lt;br /&gt;We all seem to be jumbled in a time so lost.&lt;br /&gt;We wake up each morning wondering what’s next,&lt;br /&gt;In hopes of making this day better than the rest.&lt;br /&gt;Is it so hard to move in peace?&lt;br /&gt;To forgive, forget and live not like beast?&lt;br /&gt;I hope we learn to care some day&lt;br /&gt;To make this world a little less gray&lt;br /&gt;I am no one but one sole human being,&lt;br /&gt;Trying to find light amidst the unseen.&lt;br /&gt;But one person at a time is all it takes&lt;br /&gt;Before we know it’ll be the whole human race&lt;br /&gt;Change is permanent among all in store&lt;br /&gt;So why not change the world gone so cold&lt;br /&gt;So please join hands and bring some warmth&lt;br /&gt;And give this world what it has lost.&lt;br /&gt;A child of love, a child of peace              &lt;br /&gt;A child that could nurture the greatest beast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Faith ~ isn’t found it is nurtured within you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Falak Zaffer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-2236329000598551065?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2236329000598551065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=2236329000598551065' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/2236329000598551065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/2236329000598551065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2008/12/touch-of-solace.html' title='A Touch of Solace.'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-7970249817255729417</id><published>2008-01-28T07:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-07-19T14:11:58.901-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><title type='text'>The Mirror Speaks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/R532LahaIsI/AAAAAAAAAEE/pHU89skMT48/s1600-h/Mirror.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5160551423994897090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="446" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/R532LahaIsI/AAAAAAAAAEE/pHU89skMT48/s400/Mirror.JPG" width="304" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Nobody&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-7970249817255729417?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/7970249817255729417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=7970249817255729417' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/7970249817255729417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/7970249817255729417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2008/01/blog-post_28.html' title='The Mirror Speaks'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/R532LahaIsI/AAAAAAAAAEE/pHU89skMT48/s72-c/Mirror.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-5352045380861843031</id><published>2008-01-23T14:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-07-19T14:09:26.100-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Forever in peace</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;A face in the subway&lt;br /&gt;Shies away from the horde&lt;br /&gt;In hopes through despair&lt;br /&gt;She waits for her lover aboard&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her eyes seek patiently&lt;br /&gt;From one stop to the next&lt;br /&gt;While holding on to the railing&lt;br /&gt;With every single breath&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man passes her by&lt;br /&gt;Trying to look into her eyes&lt;br /&gt;She gives a blank glance&lt;br /&gt;As he loses his poise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A shiver runs down her soul&lt;br /&gt;When she finally sees&lt;br /&gt;Her lover with flowers&lt;br /&gt;Behind the doors of steel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They kick off their heels&lt;br /&gt;When they hug in deep embrace&lt;br /&gt;With no worries nor shame&lt;br /&gt;Just a little cry from within&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The had been lost for years&lt;br /&gt;In the midst of war&lt;br /&gt;Palestine, Israel&lt;br /&gt;They had seen it all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had they not wept&lt;br /&gt;For years &amp;amp; years on&lt;br /&gt;For their eyes were soar&lt;br /&gt;But their love evermore strong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A beautiful journey&lt;br /&gt;Was to beget&lt;br /&gt;As the train passed them by&lt;br /&gt;Departing a sigh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a taste of relief&lt;br /&gt;It was to be&lt;br /&gt;When suddenly the planes crashed&lt;br /&gt;In New York City&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They rushed for shelter&lt;br /&gt;Amongst the crowd&lt;br /&gt;But their they stood&lt;br /&gt;In the heat of it all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Running away from wars&lt;br /&gt;Was no great defeat&lt;br /&gt;For the wars followed them&lt;br /&gt;All the way from Mid-east&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their story ended&lt;br /&gt;Far away from home&lt;br /&gt;Under the rumble&lt;br /&gt;Lay two departed souls&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Falak Zaffer&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/1578367670213425230-5352045380861843031?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/5352045380861843031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=5352045380861843031' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/5352045380861843031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/5352045380861843031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2008/01/forever-in-peace.html' title='Forever in peace'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-52842932308808353</id><published>2007-12-19T11:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-07T11:26:46.351-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Islam'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Democracy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Saudi Arabia'/><title type='text'>Looking within...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/11/opinion/11friedman.html?ex=1352437200&amp;amp;en=f03842f270e7843c&amp;amp;ei=5124&amp;amp;partner=permalink&amp;amp;exprod=permalink"&gt;Democracy’s Root: Diversity&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;Please click the link posted above to read the entire article; however to provide you with a brief, the following is an opinion forwarded by columnist Thomas L. Friedman in the NY Times; his opinion was based upon the recent event regarding the visit of the King of Saudi Arabia to the Vatican to meet the Pope. Friedman believes that instead of giving the Pope a gold sword and a gold statue of the camel it would have been better if the King had taken a BRAVE MOVE and gifted the Pope with a DARING visa to visit the city of Mecca &amp;amp; Medina. He says in his article “I give King Abdullah credit, though. His path-breaking meeting with the pope surely gave many Saudi clerics heartburn. But as historic as it was, it left no trace. I wished the pope had publicly expressed a desire to visit Saudi Arabia, and that the king would now declare: “Someone has to chart a new path for our region. If I can meet the pope in the Vatican, I can host Christian, Jewish, Hindu, Shiite and Buddhist religious leaders for a dialogue in our sacred house. Why not? We are secure in our own faith. Let us all meet as equals.” ”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why not?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve been asked this question a few times hence I figured I’d write about it. I encourage all who have something interesting to say about this matter to comment freely. From what I understand, the reason why we, the Muslims, don’t allow people of other religions to visit our “sacred house” (the Kaba’a) is because we don’t want it to become a mere tourist attraction but how can we really defend this honest statement when we ourselves don’t follow it anymore. While at Hajj I noticed many people having slipped into their world of vanity had forgotten their sole intention of being there. A few even stood by the Kaba’a and posed in front of it as though they were standing besides the Taj Mahal pleased to be taking home a great souvenir. Openly snapping pictures from their technologically equipped camera phones and focusing more on the black square rather than their prayers. It was a little frustrating to see this happen especially when I came to realize that I myself had succumbed to this diversion. However it hit me within a split second after taking pictures that what I was doing was wrong and un-Islamic so I shunned my phone away for the rest of my trip. Regardless times have changed and with that our thinking, I guess there is always a price to pay for modernization and somehow we have never been able to find this balance with religion. Our thinking has evolved so far that we have forgotten to respect the teachings of our archaic religion and with that the right to defend this statement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, going back to Friedman and his idea of Democracy… Friedman states that Saudi Arabia has a long way to reach democracy and it won’t be able to attain so until it allows religious freedom in its country. His definition of religious freedom does not only mean allowing people to practice their religion in that country but also welcoming other religions to enter the Holy Mosque at the Kaba’a as though allowing this would create a more Democratic Society?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friedman questions “Why not?”,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But why, is there a need for them to go there when there isn’t really a purpose behind it all? Wouldn't it be inviting MAJOR Trouble from both ends that may not really be worth it. Especially with t&lt;/span&gt;he Arab-world follows its set of rules based on the Shari’a (Islamic Law).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even Democracy comes with a price and how much are we willing to pay to gain it? I agree with Friedman that democracy isn’t about majority rules it’s about the minority rights, but what is Saudi doing so wrong if they are clearly saying, this is an Islamic country. If you don’t want to live there leave… and that goes for all Muslims too, if we recall; Allah has said in Sūrat’l-Nisā’(Section 14, verses 97,98,99,100): “Verily, as for those whom the angels take while they are wronging themselves, they say, 'In what condition were you?' They reply, 'We were weak and oppressed in the Earth.' They say, 'Was not the Earth of Allah spacious enough for you to emigrate therein?” This sura, clearly states that if you are not allowed to practice your religion in a country, the world is vast enough to leave and perform Hijrah (emigration) to find another abode. Didn’t Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) do so and leave for Medina when he (PBUH) wasn’t allowed to perform Islam in Mecca. So why is it a problem that we now cherish our ‘sacred house’ and wish to preserve it the way we want? Its not like they are forcing anyone to stay there and follow Islam, are they?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;People are always trying to find fault with anything that is different from the norm and it’s funny because people time and again have set up these norms for all to follow. And those who don’t become the wrong-doers and this misfortune of the world goes back and forth and so on and on, it’s a continuum that never seems to be happy with the other’s state of being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For years humanity has fought in the name of equality, freedom, and choice, many lives have been lost in this battle to promote minority rights. Us Muslims too have fought for these rights many many years ago, first it was for slaves, then women, then religious freedom then why the attack upon Islam now? Weren’t we the ones who first freed Blacks from slavery some 1400 years ago, weren’t we the ones who gave women equal rights as men and stopped the killing of a female child upon birth some 1400 years ago, weren’t we the ones who fought to practice Islam some 1400 years ago. Then why the blame on Islamic countries now; that they don’t believe in democracy, deprive minorities of their rights, and treat women unjustly. We are attacked over and over again for things that we preached first, fought for and believed in. How did we drift so far away from what we deserve - Respect?!! Why these allegations when we were the ones who first led this world into Democracy? Who is to blame for this transition from right to wrong? If only we could savor what we once believed in... maybe then Islam wouldn't be so far away from the truth; so misunderstood. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Falak Zaffer, December 18th 2007.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-52842932308808353?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/52842932308808353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=52842932308808353' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/52842932308808353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/52842932308808353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2007/12/so-far-from-truth.html' title='Looking within...'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-7455718481782625394</id><published>2007-12-17T11:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-26T10:28:56.069-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When the Best of us…Fail!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000066;"&gt;He sits there at the signal with his raggedy boots&lt;br /&gt;His torn gloves reveal his crumpled finger nails&lt;br /&gt;Hoping to find someone who’d be kind enough today&lt;br /&gt;To lend him a helping hand or a warm piece of bread&lt;br /&gt;Trying to find comfort on his old wheelchair&lt;br /&gt;Placing his head on his hand for support&lt;br /&gt;He doesn’t ask for money but sits with a cup&lt;br /&gt;Not spending much of his energy needlessly begging&lt;br /&gt;He has less of it and needs to savor every bit&lt;br /&gt;Before he clogs on the floor in the freezing rain&lt;br /&gt;I pass by him every day feeling guilty&lt;br /&gt;And with every pass I feel my sin rising&lt;br /&gt;I do nothing but lower the volume of my blasting radio&lt;br /&gt;I feel sorry but bring him no joy&lt;br /&gt;As soon as I make my turn my memory fades&lt;br /&gt;Leaving no trace of his face behind&lt;br /&gt;But still the lack of my generosity&lt;br /&gt;Haunts my need of self surviving lust&lt;br /&gt;The old man sits and questions me every day&lt;br /&gt;Even though it’s only for a minute&lt;br /&gt;His existence propels me to gravity&lt;br /&gt;I realize therein what goodness is worth&lt;br /&gt;Deep down somewhere I never seem to forget&lt;br /&gt;Is his life only worth my one minute a day?&lt;br /&gt;Is God judging me every time I do nothing?&lt;br /&gt;Turning my face away as I drive by in my brand new car&lt;br /&gt;Warm and cuddled in my brand new fleece&lt;br /&gt;With brand new Timbs that warm up my feet&lt;br /&gt;Is guilt the only thing I can afford?&lt;br /&gt;For the man who sits in hope every day&lt;br /&gt;What if it was God testing me in his frayed apparel?&lt;br /&gt;Giving me a chance that I miss to take&lt;br /&gt;One minute of my day could mean so much more&lt;br /&gt;If only I’d give this old man something more than remorse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Nobody, 17th December 2007.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-7455718481782625394?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/7455718481782625394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=7455718481782625394' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/7455718481782625394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/7455718481782625394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2007/12/when-best-of-usfail-he-sits-there-at.html' title='When the Best of us…Fail!'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-8779026068082358152</id><published>2007-11-12T09:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-12T17:43:53.939-08:00</updated><title type='text'>One year after our engagement:</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/RzjcZZuAXgI/AAAAAAAAABE/S5dYKJtI_Zs/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is what I always dreamed it to be but it’s a strange feeling because once a dream becomes reality you begin to wonder if you really are dreaming. We somehow go on living a life unaware of the fact that it’s all real, it’s all happening now and here. We are together building a life from scratch a family of two willing to grow into the future and bonding in times of hardships and strength. My husband now a part of me has grown to be inseparable from my set of believes, my achievements and my failures. Our lives have twined in a fashion that unconsciously we thread into one. Forgetting that we are in fact two different people…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband is my epiphany of truth and with him by my side I am ready to salvage my world from all the troubles that we may face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A note to you Shonz:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am blessed to have you by my side for you are someone who is so much like me and yet different, someone who completes my shortcomings and I hope that I complete yours. You truly are my reflection and through you’re eyes I see my present. A scary thought for others but somehow I do believe that our world does revolve around each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a tender kiss I give myself to you forever&lt;br /&gt;and through all the vows we’ve made&lt;br /&gt;our life will never be undelivered&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You for me and I for you I stated&lt;br /&gt;and this is how it’s been and will continue&lt;br /&gt;for our love will never be outdated&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thank God for you everyday&lt;br /&gt;and sometimes it’s hard to hold my tears&lt;br /&gt;It’s a little scary to love someone so much&lt;br /&gt;but I just pray that God gives us many such years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With you every step of the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’re Companion &amp;amp; Wife.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-8779026068082358152?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/8779026068082358152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=8779026068082358152' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/8779026068082358152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/8779026068082358152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2007/11/one-year-after-our-engagement-life-is.html' title='One year after our engagement:'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-959951267107462885</id><published>2007-11-10T09:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-12T17:44:49.443-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Constant World</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/RzjcrpuAXhI/AAAAAAAAABM/S94hZUMRAO8/s1600-h/Sunset.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132094417879981586" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="150" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/RzjcrpuAXhI/AAAAAAAAABM/S94hZUMRAO8/s200/Sunset.jpg" width="648" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I lived a life along the docks&lt;br /&gt;Where the breeze was fluid and the ocean warm&lt;br /&gt;A peaceful life with no hard spots&lt;br /&gt;Among the rocks were my calmest thoughts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the grim moon light&lt;br /&gt;Came a fierce storm&lt;br /&gt;That took away life and pleasures with&lt;br /&gt;It was all gone in seconds to spare&lt;br /&gt;My beautiful paradise lost n’ bare&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What went wrong I thought and wondered?&lt;br /&gt;Did the oceans loose its calm?&lt;br /&gt;To the savage underworld…&lt;br /&gt;It couldn’t be I blamed in vain&lt;br /&gt;For life was no longer to be without pain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I later found out the storm was mocked&lt;br /&gt;It was the dams that broke loose and caused a rot&lt;br /&gt;Water gushed from every barrier&lt;br /&gt;Created by man in hopes of&lt;br /&gt;Taming nature’s carrier&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lost all hopes in this land&lt;br /&gt;For mankind was doomed no matter where&lt;br /&gt;I thought in patience for where I’d go&lt;br /&gt;I realized therein that this was home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I built a life from scratch again&lt;br /&gt;It was tiring but worth the same&lt;br /&gt;To rebuild my paradise remained my goal&lt;br /&gt;And I never lost hope within my soul&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stood back after a year to gaze amidst&lt;br /&gt;It was beautiful again with no more rifts&lt;br /&gt;I hoped and prayed that life would remain&lt;br /&gt;And people would let nature live untamed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Nobody&lt;br /&gt;November 10, 2007.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-959951267107462885?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/959951267107462885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=959951267107462885' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/959951267107462885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/959951267107462885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2007/11/constant-world.html' title='Constant World'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/RzjcrpuAXhI/AAAAAAAAABM/S94hZUMRAO8/s72-c/Sunset.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-8018233966983022687</id><published>2007-10-11T12:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-06T21:26:44.167-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pursuit of Lost Passion</title><content type='html'>How many of us really know what passion truly means anymore? How many of us are strong enough to let it out and let it lead us through the garden of life. Its’ color its vibrance is so hard for us to embellish but once broken free it’s as beautiful as paradise itself, filled with bountiful flowers and ever green land. Like a river that never ends curving through every corner with such elegance as if it were hugging a beautiful woman’s body. Passion when let out can conquer all hearts, weak and strong. It can pacify everyone’s needs; it can indulge in every ones spirit and find a comfortable abode in a man’s mind. Passion is the undeniable truth that not everyone is strong enough to release but once out it’s all up to us then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Delivering ones true potential, true identity and desire is so hard to understand these days, it’s like we are all stuck in this huge maze of ambition that what we truly want is lost in there somewhere. Our options have grown vast with such intensity that people no longer know how to look within for what they want. Instead we all seem to look outwards to make a choice, to make that one decision of life. I guess what they say is true, the grass is always greener on the other side because today in the 21st century unlike the yesteryears what life is all about is “there are so many choices out there, which one should I pick”. It’s like we have all forgotten what we hold in our hearts and just live on trying to figure out where we fit in….we as a human race have forgotten to find the peace within. Sad but true… we have lost against the race of need versus want. And that has become the undeniable truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#9999ff;"&gt;"Undying spirits of the pretentious world fail to recognize the true hero within. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#9999ff;"&gt;For hearts cherish for what’s truly worth their needs sadly leave all its pure passion behind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#9999ff;"&gt;How serenely the worldly act of forging one another is at is most powerful peak &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#9999ff;"&gt;for what’s worth nothing… &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#9999ff;"&gt;but sadly we live on whisking away the future in hopes to become what is called the high society cream." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#9999ff;"&gt;~ Yours heavenly, Nobody.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-8018233966983022687?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/8018233966983022687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=8018233966983022687' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/8018233966983022687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/8018233966983022687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2007/10/pursuit-of-lost-passion.html' title='Pursuit of Lost Passion'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-4473475167595574480</id><published>2007-09-16T05:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-09T05:53:37.903-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Moderate'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Islam'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Muslims'/><title type='text'>Liberate Islam??!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;For years now I amongst all people have said, “I am a moderate Muslim and my muslim family practices Moderation”. I have however, on occasions questioned the lifestyle of the more Conservative Muslims? The ones with the beards and hijab… and who dress as if they still belong to the 7th century? Are they living a lie? Does today’s society mean nothing to them? They would argue otherwise and then the question of who am I would never really be answered. So I’ve decided to reframe my question and divert it to the so called moderate society of Islam itself. Who are these so called moderate Muslims? And does Islam preach, understand and accept moderation? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;I claim to be one of them so I figured who better to question than myself. Okay question number one: Where do you draw the line on religion? Or better yet, is religion a way of life, a set of rules we are governed by, or is it just a cult we want to be a part off? Moderate Muslims claim to believe in the Oneness of God (Allah) and all moderate Sunni Muslims believe in the Last most beloved Prophet Muhammad (PBUH). We read the Quran, on and off don’t completely understand it, pray five times a day or at least we try sometimes we are just too lazy. Fast during Ramadan but don’t really devout all our free time in prayer or dhikr of Allah. Perform our Holy Pilgrimage to Mecca, and get back to our normal daily routine as if we had just had an outing or a vacation and live life by what we choose Islam to be. We create our own rules, we believe in only what we choose too, we say we believe only in the Quran and the Quran asks us to believe in the teachings of Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) but yet we have no way of following his teachings because we don’t really believe in Hadiths. Those are for the conservatives you see, because Hadiths are written by men and men hate women so they want to rule over them and so on and on and on! Thus basically we create our own way of life and yet call ourselves Muslims. Am I just mad at what we’ve made Islam to be? Possibly. What is it that I have begun to dislike about the way I follow my religion? Islam has become too commercialized for us moderate Muslims and I think that is what bothers me the most. Us not understanding Islam and just following it for the sake of following it, believing what we understand, changing rules as we like so we can fit in to today’s society. Honestly we are just too afraid to say it but in our minds Islam is outdated. If Islam is complete submission to Allah (The Most Merciful), and if we really believed in Heaven and Hell would we not then fear Hell. Would we go around living the way we do. Would we not rush to our daily prayers like the so called conservative do? Would we not also ask for Allah’s mercy during Ramadan and not just fast to prove we are Muslims? Would we not perform Hajj as if it were our last chance to life and forgiveness? Maybe for a lack of a better word, I have become a little more conservative, if there is such a thing. But is that really so bad? And why are we so afraid of being judged? Why is it that the minute I say the word hijab I will get the “Oh my God she's lost it look?” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;(from family first)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt; Why is it that people are so quick to judge? And if how we perceive others is so important and if judging someone is equally important shouldn't that give us more of a reason to believe in Judgment day? Shouldn't we be the most worried about Allah’s angel judging our actions/intentions every day? Sad but we even take our work more seriously than life. We are afraid to miss work but we aren't afraid to miss our prayers. We are afraid of losing our jobs but aren't afraid of losing life. We take God’s mercy for granted and become too lazy to submit to him in prayer but are always there to answer our bosses call. We truly have made religion a set of rules that we should live by and have forgotten Allah in the process. We have made a mockery of every aspect of Islam including Hajj. We pay to spend comfortable nights at Hajj as if we are there for sight seeing. Think about it… VIP tents at Mina who are we kidding??? Hajj has become as commercialized as religion itself and it hurts me. I agree there are people who pretend to be very religious but yet live life for their own benefits. They are people who give religion a bad name but shouldn't that be a reason to prove that it can be otherwise. Should one wrong be corrected by another wrong? Maybe I am only attacking moderation and there is a whole other side to this conservative Muslim society, but shouldn’t that give us more of a reason to change it? Shouldn't we follow Islam the way it is supposed to be followed and not just sit back and say “oh you don’t know what all those bearded and hijabi women do behind their disguise so I am better off than them”. Shouldn't we stop criticizing and using that as an excuse to do what we want to do? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Perhaps I am one voice in a million and will be shunned forever in the out roars. But the truth has to be told. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;Moderation and Conservatism is a bunch of baloney!!, because that itself has its own set of divisions. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span  &gt;There is no scale in Islam… there are only Muslims and I, as a Muslim have let down Prophet Muhammad (PBUH). I, as a Muslim have lost the most precious thing about Islam, simplicity. I, as a Muslim am losing this battle of religion against society. I, as a Muslim am entrapped in this materialistic world and have forgotten Allah, when Allah alone knows best. As-Salaam Alaikum (Peace be upon you) and may we all learn to live in peace. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;My God isn't better than your God and your God isn't better than mine.., because there is only one God and he is divine... I am but a slave sent down to earth to live in harmony without creating divisions let alone in society but in our own home. Let there be none, for who are we to judge?, who are we to create boundaries and separations when we were all created from the same earth. In the end isn't there we will meet as one again? Live in Peace please, live for God and not for what we've made of Him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Falak Zaffer, September 16, 2007.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/1578367670213425230-4473475167595574480?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/4473475167595574480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=4473475167595574480' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/4473475167595574480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/4473475167595574480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2007/09/liberate-islam.html' title='Liberate Islam??!!'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-1466929669196536401</id><published>2007-04-24T20:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T20:13:20.198-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An Apology</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I’ve seen her through the years, giving her life up for the betterment of her loved ones and in return all she got was a bed in an old age home. I’m not sure how to react in such a situation or how to even comprehend what must go on in the old lady's mind but it hurts to know that even I have become a spectator in this game of HER life. People I know stop and feel bad at her fate but not one to stretch their hand out and take her in to their care. Yes, it’s easy to say that I miss her, I love her, I feel bad for her… I wish I could do something, but is all of that good enough or can we really do something? I wonder when was the last time somebody paid her a visit in the broken down nursing home or even stopped to say hello… Everyone seems to be restricted by either one of the three factors Time, fate and money ever wonder how these very different forms, factors and features got blended into one. How is it that these three things end up prescribing the new meaning of life? Through the eyes of a daughter I have failed to live up to her expectations &amp;amp; all that I am worth doing is apologizing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dedicated to my great aunt - I am sorry.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-1466929669196536401?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/1466929669196536401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=1466929669196536401' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/1466929669196536401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/1466929669196536401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2007/04/through-eyes-of-daughter.html' title='An Apology'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-2839017132318173566</id><published>2007-03-02T04:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T17:47:47.154-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Our Civil Wedding'/><title type='text'>about my husband:</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/RxNXsHXNc2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/d19407u0Vb4/s1600-h/DSC04856.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121533616652645218" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 228px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 151px" height="195" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/RxNXsHXNc2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/d19407u0Vb4/s320/DSC04856.JPG" width="287" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Just like music our lives will mesh into one. I for you and you for me. My notes to balance your keys. Together we will walk a path sometimes green sometimes not so green. I am ready, I am ready to make you my husband, my life partner, my soul searcher.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;___________________________&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;15 days after our engagement:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I'm All that to him.And I know it. With a promise in his eyes he came into my life and I felt it the minute I saw his picture. Not realizing that my destiny lay in his palm and my hand fit right into his, I saw him with a bit of love and bit of insecurity. Yes, a bit of love. I did not know this man nor had I ever met him before but the minute I laid my eyes on his picture I felt like I had known him forever. I had a strong pull towards him and I just had to ask my parents to introduce us (a bold move any girl would be afraid to make in an arranged marriage situation). I knew that minute that this man was different and his genuine smile could encompass everything around him and become one with him. He was powerful in a subtle way and his humility showed on his face. That warmth in his eyes made me feel a bit of love without even meeting him and that made me a little jittery about the whole thing. I can never really begin to understand what compelled me to say `Yes' without any hesitance but I could feel that Allah wasn't really giving me a chance or a choice to think He just made me feel assured that this man would keep me happy and everything else would fall right in place. It all felt like destiny. Imran was to be my destiny.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Today, I know his walk, I've read his eyes and I've felt his heart. His love for me is wonderous and truly I'm all that to him and more.&lt;/span&gt;&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/1578367670213425230-2839017132318173566?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/2839017132318173566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=2839017132318173566' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/2839017132318173566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/2839017132318173566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2006/11/about-my-husband.html' title='about my husband:'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/RxNXsHXNc2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/d19407u0Vb4/s72-c/DSC04856.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-6435253024367500661</id><published>2005-03-07T21:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-10-14T21:44:40.708-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mirrors of life: An uncertainty that binds us to our familiarities.</title><content type='html'>It is weird how we tend to let go of things and yet hold on to that very minute part not realizing how, that tiny part is its essence on its own. We fail to recognize that it too like all the others has once again become a part of our being, a part of us that makes us a whole.Relationships are of such a wonderful nature. We tend to move on, we tend to believe that its all done but how many of us really forget and let it out of our minds forever? It is impossible to do so, because with every break up or heartbreak, or with every moment of happiness, pleasure, anger and sorrow we learn and when we learn we treasure.Love, relationships, feelings, needs that entire jungle of emotions can make life seem so demanding mindlessly confusing. However, if we take a step back and look at it for a moment without any prejudice, it could possibly just be another facet of the diamond. A diamond that sparkles more in the sun, which brings out beautiful colors with a spec of light. That spec of light in life is hope. Hope is something we all dwell in, we all keep on craving more off, we all live for. If it weren’t for hope, would there truly be love? I wouldn’t want to leave you with a question but if you think about it, the answer is pretty simple. Hope is the only sanity left in human kind probably the only distinctive feature a man yet preserves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight,&lt;br /&gt;Yours truly,&lt;br /&gt;Nobody.&lt;br /&gt;March 7th, 2005.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-6435253024367500661?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/6435253024367500661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=6435253024367500661' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/6435253024367500661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/6435253024367500661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2007/10/mirrors-of-life-uncertainty-that-binds.html' title='Mirrors of life: An uncertainty that binds us to our familiarities.'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-4040288915622376864</id><published>2004-02-14T21:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T19:32:46.724-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Say Cheese Mr. Valentine...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://wwp.saint-valentines.co.uk/images/valentines-hearts.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://wwp.saint-valentines.co.uk/images/valentines-hearts.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ever wonder why relationships are such a major crisis and yet a major necessity in ones personal growth and well being? Is it even an issue or have we forced ourselves subliminally into believing that loneliness is a bad thing? Life it self requires an individual to grow in a social conduct forcing one to follow the rules of moral dignity, righteousness and communal upbringing. We being social animals, have made life unimaginable to live without a set of relationships, may it be with our parents, siblings, friends or even our lover. To make things more complicated, special days and occasions have been put in place to celebrate each of these relationships, as if coping up with them wasn’t hard enough. Now what if you don’t fit into these criteria’s or fall short of one or more of these relationships? Does that prove that you are incomplete as a person and are doomed for the rest of your life? If not why is a negative connotation put into the words ‘the lonely lady next door who lives with her cat’? Is it really that important to have someone by your side for the rest of your life or is it just a matter of our social view that has been drilled into our heads over the years? Do emotions, feelings really exist or was it just the harshness of the 'survival of the fittest' that brought us together. Was Freud right when he said that human beings by nature are amoral and asocial beings who do not live happily in a society and do so only to make communal life possible and to fulfill one’s own ‘pleasure principle’. Ah! So many questions but who is to know or lay out the truth of what is to be truly human? However, taking a step back into the hot topic of the day ‘relationships’. All I heard from single women today was ‘Valentines day sucks’ with a moping face as if their life just got worse due to St. Valentine. Yah its a pretty good occasion to be with the one you love and to tell them just how much you care, but why is it necessary to feel left out if you don’t have that special someone. Sometimes I really wonder if people are genuinely sad for being alone on a day like this or do they just loathe their very existence, or is it just that they all of a sudden feel the need to have someone else pay attention to their self-revolving world. A part of me does wish to be with someone as well, a part of me does feel lost and wishes for someone to pay extra attention towards me, but then I wonder; do I really need someone or am I just looking to sustain my never ending want for emotional pleasure. Well if that is right, then Freud was a genius to figure out human beings but if people are social beings and do wish for companionship then God surely needs to send a martyr down to save our ever so lonely souls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nobody, February 14th 2004.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-4040288915622376864?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/4040288915622376864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=4040288915622376864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/4040288915622376864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/4040288915622376864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-had-written-this-3-yrs-ago-for.html' title='Say Cheese Mr. Valentine...'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-8701773951966621534</id><published>2003-12-20T22:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-10-14T22:11:42.943-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Solid: Ice Cube</title><content type='html'>Ice cold, tears frozen, haunted, invisible...&lt;br /&gt;Mystified by the unchanging shape, the inability to flow.&lt;br /&gt;Trapped!&lt;br /&gt;Breathing, in out, exhale inhale...&lt;br /&gt;Senseless, feeling unconscious, dying slowly with every breath.&lt;br /&gt;No Luck!&lt;br /&gt;Touching, scraping, feeling nothing...&lt;br /&gt;Surrounded by numbness; compassion, love, and bliss fading.&lt;br /&gt;No Pain!&lt;br /&gt;Living life, praying, believing, not trusting just there...&lt;br /&gt;Thinking, hoping, loosing faith one second at a time.&lt;br /&gt;Gone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Nobody.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-8701773951966621534?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/8701773951966621534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=8701773951966621534' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/8701773951966621534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/8701773951966621534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2003/12/solid-ice-cube.html' title='Solid: Ice Cube'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-6766682335239211004</id><published>2002-10-21T22:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-14T22:13:05.101-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Section from Always Smiling</title><content type='html'>Ear plugs&lt;br /&gt;I’m screaming……&lt;br /&gt;Do you hear me?&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if anyone does&lt;br /&gt;But hey I’m still screaming&lt;br /&gt;And the world is deaf!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Nobody.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-6766682335239211004?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/6766682335239211004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=6766682335239211004' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/6766682335239211004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/6766682335239211004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2002/10/section-from-always-smiling.html' title='Section from Always Smiling'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1578367670213425230.post-7708581132778536178</id><published>2001-05-15T05:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T10:03:18.438-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Silence speaks the Devil</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The silence that dwells around me,&lt;br /&gt;Seeps into a parody of fear.&lt;br /&gt;It speaks of the devil,&lt;br /&gt;But drives the angel near.&lt;br /&gt;Who is there to strangle,&lt;br /&gt;To surrender the power of life.&lt;br /&gt;To give in to the hands of evil,&lt;br /&gt;That which is blooming with rife.&lt;br /&gt;No one is willing to save,&lt;br /&gt;The fighting soul at war.&lt;br /&gt;They just gaze in question,&lt;br /&gt;At the treacherous moment set forth.&lt;br /&gt;Forgetting to give a helping hand,&lt;br /&gt;They wait, pray and hope.&lt;br /&gt;Now, I know,They don't crave to die with me,&lt;br /&gt;They just wish to stand and mope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Falak Zaffer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Copyright ©2007 Falak Zaffer &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1578367670213425230-7708581132778536178?l=littledimes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/feeds/7708581132778536178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1578367670213425230&amp;postID=7708581132778536178' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/7708581132778536178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1578367670213425230/posts/default/7708581132778536178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littledimes.blogspot.com/2001/05/silence-speaks-devil.html' title='Silence speaks the Devil'/><author><name>Falak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02206596590742648165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_U7OYXW4mpPE/SBDk4xIKlWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/HB2Lam7tQSA/S220/roses.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
