<?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-6718735626253187449</id><updated>2012-02-16T03:22:12.994-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Memoirs</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whydidchickencrosstheroad.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6718735626253187449/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whydidchickencrosstheroad.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Hell's Angel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16848083033801067222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>2</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6718735626253187449.post-1126573438646687329</id><published>2009-02-18T08:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T00:35:34.535-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Value for true love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It was a hot May afternoon when i returned home from my class 11 tuition. I used to live in a flat which had a big terrace connected to the drawing room. My mum was watering plants when she suddenly called for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I went out to find a bush of dry hay, with a little pink creature inside it. I picked it up to find a cute baby squirrel. It wouldn't had been older than 2-3 days. The helpless creature could barely even open its eyes. It seemed that someone had thrown the squirrel's nest out from their home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I carefully picked up the squirrel and placed it in one of the pots under a plant's shade. But i observed that the soil surface being hard and uneven, the baby was not comfortable, it couldn't rest. So i took a soft orange coloured clothe(the ones used to clean pc screens, tv, etc.) and placed the baby on it. I put that clothe at a place where a cat wouldn't be able to notice it(we had a high cat visiting frequency).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I kept it as it was for 1 full day, visiting it twice every hour. Then i realised that it needed something to eat or drink to survive. Like a little child I took a little water in bowl and tried to dip squirrel's mouth in it, but it didn't even open its mouth. Second day was about to finish since i had found the baby and still i couldn't figure out a way of feeding the baby squirrel. I had begun to worry when a thought came to my mind. Since all babies generally drink milk, i thought this one too should drink milk. So i took a little milk in a bowl and tried to dip its mouth in it. Obviously it couldn't drink milk the way a cat does, but it licked the milk that was smeared around its mouth. Finally i atleast figured out that baby squirrels do drink milk.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;My next aim was to feed it in proper quantity. So i bought a syringe, filled it up with milk and started feeding the squirrel. The squirrel too drank it with immense pleasure, clutching the syringe with its little forehands.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A week passed by, and the baby was able to walk and run around playfully. It used to play around my palm whenever i picked it up, it would play with my fingers and it would even follow me around the whole house house. I had got really attached with it within this period of time. I used to help the baby climb the walls. Its one leg was limping(prpbably due to the shock it had recieved when it was thrown along with its nest). Every night i used to wrap it nicely in the clothe in put it at a safe place to sleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;One evening, just before my dinner, i went to check it out. To my shock i found the clothe empty. The squirrel was missing. I tried to find the squirrel everywhere, but it was nowhere to be found. I scavenged for almost an hour, but couldn't find it. It had probably left as it could walk, run, climb. I didn't even eat my dinner that night. I felt bereaved.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Later, my mum came to me and said,"Now do u realize how do parents feel when their children leave them and go away."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6718735626253187449-1126573438646687329?l=whydidchickencrosstheroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whydidchickencrosstheroad.blogspot.com/feeds/1126573438646687329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://whydidchickencrosstheroad.blogspot.com/2009/02/value-for-true-love.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6718735626253187449/posts/default/1126573438646687329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6718735626253187449/posts/default/1126573438646687329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whydidchickencrosstheroad.blogspot.com/2009/02/value-for-true-love.html' title='Value for true love'/><author><name>Hell's Angel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16848083033801067222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6718735626253187449.post-4520739732489499954</id><published>2009-02-17T01:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T00:36:07.641-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday Bash</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I was waiting for my mum to come back home, so that i could leave. I was half tired, out of energy and half asleep. I was on the verge of canceling my plan due to it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I had attended many Birthday parties of friends till now, but this was going to be my first one at 12 in the night. I'd always heard their stories about the brutal birthday bumps, the cake loot, midnight strolls on road,etc. but never actually experienced them(except the first one).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;He lives in a flat just opposite to a lake, with 3 other classmates and very good friends of mine (they call themselves 'The crazy 4'). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I reached my friend's(he is my classmate too) place at 10-30.  Other friends from college had started pouring in by then. It was real fun listening to their senseless discussions. We found a big bunch of old hindi comics and everyone started pouncing on those books like little children to take them home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Since 12 am was just a few minutes away, everyone gathered in the drawing room to give the so called birthday bumps. Two of them lifted him up, and then came the first kick. DHISHUM! One by one, everyone thrashed him up, every kick of which was recorded on a camera. As soon as the beating part ended, everyone wished him heartily with a hug, and this too became a bone crunching group hug! Then came the time for cake-cutting, may be i should use the word 'pillaging of cake'. 'Opera' flavoured cake was nicely set on the floor covered with newspaper. 10-12 of us had surrounded the cake like some hungry wolves ready to pounce on some innocent creature. Candles were lighted, blown(not by the birthday boy, but the guy next to him) and the cake vanished. It took just 1 sec. Fortunately i managed to grab some cake in one hand. Those who were left out were given a bite from our plundered cake. The birthday boy was smeared with the left overs of cake icing and lots of amazingly hillarious pics were clicked.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;We cleaned everything up and went to the lake for our famous 'tea-party'. It was nearly 1 by then. The chai-vala bhaiya was about to close his stall, but looking at the number of customers, he changed his mind and serverd us with great tea. Meanwhile, we clicked tonnes of more pics with a new pose everytime. Finally, at around 2, everyone went home. I stayed back at their place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Still my our night was not over. We decided to watch a movie. It took us 30 more minutes to decide which movie to watch. We started watching "The butterfly Effect". We started with 3 people awake, but after 15 minutes one of them had slept. Though the movie required a lot of brainstorming, two of us managed to stay awake till the end. We slept at 4-15 in the morning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I was in deep sleep when i heard the birthday boy waking me up. He was going to take us at a food joint for 'paranthas'. It took us 30 min to get ready and reach the place. Being a party, everyone ate to their full. It was nearly 10, and i had to leave for home. I wished him once again and thanked all of them for the wonderful time. It was really a memorable first time birthday night out for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6718735626253187449-4520739732489499954?l=whydidchickencrosstheroad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whydidchickencrosstheroad.blogspot.com/feeds/4520739732489499954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://whydidchickencrosstheroad.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-was-waiting-for-my-mum-to-come-back.html#comment-form' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6718735626253187449/posts/default/4520739732489499954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6718735626253187449/posts/default/4520739732489499954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whydidchickencrosstheroad.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-was-waiting-for-my-mum-to-come-back.html' title='Birthday Bash'/><author><name>Hell's Angel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16848083033801067222</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry></feed>
