tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61746630999376631552024-03-13T20:40:03.667-07:00Short and SweetGauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.comBlogger84125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-55508284702738704722012-04-22T12:17:00.000-07:002012-04-22T12:17:45.849-07:00A Sparrow<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A sparrow soaked in rain,<br />
Shakes off a tiny fountain,<br />
Time to fold the umbrella, and,<br />
Drizzle-walk NYC again.<br />
<br />
-GG</div>Gauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-38949586955655190302011-11-02T20:07:00.000-07:002011-11-04T17:02:30.350-07:00Sing alongSing along, even if you can't sing.<br />Tomorrow's tune will be different<br />from the gloomy notes that today played.<br />Tomorrow will be a different song,<br />And if you decide, <br />It could be a joyful note on the string.Gauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-27007624599585236722010-05-14T03:55:00.000-07:002012-05-20T21:20:22.344-07:00Sand dunes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/S-0tzAcvYrI/AAAAAAAAA0o/zCak4OrU1Gw/s1600/sanddunes.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471079476642144946" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/S-0tzAcvYrI/AAAAAAAAA0o/zCak4OrU1Gw/s400/sanddunes.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 301px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<br />
Alone under the sun<br />
bathing in sand I stand.<br />
Stung, yet alive<br />
I grow, I thrive<br />
and inch towards the end. <br />
<br />
GG</div>Gauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-3144382098711359802010-03-23T09:45:00.000-07:002010-03-23T09:57:36.086-07:00A Day to Remember<em>Today is death anniversary of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sukhdev" target="_blank">Sukhdev Thapar</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shivaram_Rajguru" target="_blank">Shivaram Rajguru </a>and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bhagat_Singh" target="_blank">Bhagat Singh</a> and 100th birth anniversary of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ram_Manohar_Lohia" target="_blank">Ram Manohar Lohia</a>. I would have not remembered, but for Vinod Dua's 9.30 news slot on NDTV India. </em><br /><br />On March 23, 1931<br />Three youths died <br />shouting slogans till their last breath<br />to keep the revolution alive.<br />More than six decades of sleep later,<br />they perhaps still scream in their graves:<br />Wake up.Gauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-63991154101691883902009-12-01T01:40:00.000-08:002009-12-01T01:49:56.117-08:00A government hospitalThe filth, the clamour<br />The smell of blood, whiff of death<br />Poverty, helplessness<br />Apathy, gloom, juggernaut —<br />A government hospital.Gauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-23360563211718549812009-10-20T22:33:00.000-07:002009-10-20T22:37:48.924-07:00Please vote for me<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/St6eHY27RRI/AAAAAAAAAkY/9z3QxVl1pF8/s1600-h/side+strip1.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 110px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/St6eHY27RRI/AAAAAAAAAkY/9z3QxVl1pF8/s200/side+strip1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394923253405533458" /></a><br /><br />Hi...<br /><br />Short and Sweet has been accepted in the Original Poetry Contest category on Indiblogger. It will take you a few minutes to vote, or create an account if you are yet not on Indiblogger...<br /><br />Also, may I go a step ahead and say that I would be grateful if you ask your friends on the blogroll to check out Short and Sweet and vote for me...<br /><br />Here's the <a href="http://www.indiblogger.in/nominations.php?id=5">voting link</a>..<br /><br />Wish me luck!<br /><br />--GauriGauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-63241493893019210722009-09-23T23:04:00.000-07:002009-09-23T23:08:33.215-07:00Swing on a starThe radio played:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"... Or would you like to swing on a star,<br />Carry moonbeams home in a jar<br />and be better off than you are..."</span><br /><br />From Doris Lessing's short story 'A road to the big city'<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Mesjay, this one's for you. I have been filling up a little diary these days and so the blog's neglected a bit. :)</span>Gauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-23072570642916133852009-07-03T01:19:00.000-07:002009-07-03T01:38:32.293-07:00Where they go<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/Sk3DYyMmJqI/AAAAAAAAAhw/ITRxGvDohww/s1600-h/flower+in+a+brick.bmp"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/Sk3DYyMmJqI/AAAAAAAAAhw/ITRxGvDohww/s200/flower+in+a+brick.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354150362572269218" /></a><br />The footpaths on S N Banerjee and CIT<br />were littered with near-naked rickshawpullers <br />swooned in sweet fatigue after midnight<br />till a few days ago.<br />It's begun to rain now <br />and I wonder where they go...Gauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-59734259351967028542009-06-24T22:58:00.000-07:002009-06-24T22:59:26.799-07:00I love low-cost planesIn three hours flat,<br />Can reach the home I most love, <br />I love low-cost planesGauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-19880496472350790742009-04-22T23:59:00.000-07:002009-04-23T00:02:47.826-07:00Kuch zakhmon ka hara rehna<span style="font-style:italic;">Us ne muskura kar kurede mere zakhm aur kaha<br />'Khalish' accha hota hai kuch zakhmon ka hara rehna...<br /></span><br /><br />- Vitthal Gharpure, KhalishGauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-20150603394631674142009-04-15T14:04:00.000-07:002009-04-16T03:56:19.051-07:00Why do we?Summer sleep, rainy talks<br />Falling leaves, cold blankets<br />Seasons change. So do we.<br /><br />Lazy walks, school socks<br />Scribble pads, chewed pens<br />Seasons change. So do we.<br /><br />Red roses, touchy cards<br />Long letters, shy tears<br />Seasons change. So do we.<br /><br />Why do we?<br /><br />-GGGauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-62892841611332062322009-03-08T23:13:00.000-07:002009-03-08T23:21:56.426-07:00SummerIt's hot and sultry<br />but not just right enough<br />The sun was far more demanding<br />In the town I grew up in.<br /><br />It hit you on your skin<br />and pierced right through<br />Till you burnt a funny red<br />And then sweat cooled you up. <br /><br />The hot vapours pricked you by<br />As you zoomed past on bikes.<br />Back home, under the lazy fan;<br />Water after a minute or two<br />Life would slowly seem bearable again...<br /><br />Ahmedabad has a thousand memorable things<br />But the most I miss<br />Are those ruthless summer months.Gauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-59728060088930647662009-02-05T00:28:00.000-08:002009-02-05T00:37:13.631-08:00Mee asheech Mee tasheech<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/SYqkNDdUs8I/AAAAAAAAAfI/iTp6recWvUI/s1600-h/chaitali+side+strip.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 1000px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/SYqkNDdUs8I/AAAAAAAAAfI/iTp6recWvUI/s320/chaitali+side+strip.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299228455728362434" /></a><br />Mee khari<br />Mee khoti<br /><br />Mee kali<br />Mee gori<br /><br />Mee aahe<br />Mee nahi<br /><br />Mee sona<br />Mee dagad<br /><br />Mee agni<br />Mee jal<br /><br />Mee bangdi<br />Mee dora<br /><br />Mee eechhha<br />Mee bal<br /><br />Mee lahan<br />Mee mothi<br /><br />Mee asheech<br />Mee tasheech<br /><br />Mee satya<br />Mee asatya<br /><br />Mee Gandhi<br />Mee Bhagat<br /><br />Mee phool<br />Mee madhmashi<br /><br />Mee nadi<br />Mee samudra<br /><br />Mee aapli<br />Mee parkee<br /><br />Mee pandhree<br />Mee laal<br /><br />Mee ho<br />Mee nahi<br /><br />Mee asheech<br />Mee tasheech<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Chaitali Phadke</span> is a vivacious Mumbaikar, a charming, chirpy girl whose poetry you have to read to believe her sensitive way of seeing things. This poem is her take on herself.Gauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-6286312626827901942008-12-22T22:38:00.000-08:002009-08-27T02:29:30.261-07:00A much used maroon sweaterIt's a chilly winter morning<br />The types I cannot imagine waking up at six<br />And getting into a school uniform.<br />And yet I did exactly so<br />Ten to twelve years ago<br />With sleepy eyes, a heavy head, cajoling mum<br />A hot cup of tea waiting for me<br />Bag packed by aaji and lunch made my mummy<br />Off to school after a wait for the public bus.<br />O what fun it was, hoards of students waiting at the bus stand<br />At six thirty those frosty mornings, Baba standing beside me<br />making small jokes, pointing a puppy here or there, <br />We dreamt big on those cold mornings, we still do.<br /><br />And then the bus would suddenly come, and I would rush<br />Leave him behind and shove my way in the crowd<br />Once inside, wave him a smile again.<br />He would always wait a few minutes after I left<br />Lest I would jump back again for want of change,<br />Or a forgotten book, <br />Or with a frown say, 'no mood', I want to go back home<br />He would wait till he was sure I was safely on my way.<br /><br />I would have by then lost my sleep<br />And get worried about the rounds of school<br />for getting late again.<br />We walked our way from the bus stand to school <br />and walked the way back, Reni and me. <br />And got scolded for taking a five rupee rick out of lazyness. <br /><br />The PT sir would dye his hair once a month<br />to a startling, dazzling jet black<br />And everyday he coloured thus, I broke into giggles right on his face<br />After that running about the school campus,<br />I would finally slag up to the class.<br /><br />Friends would smile that fond smile that said, 'Late again!'<br />I would scamper for a text book <br />And Reni or Rupal or Sanjana would slide their text towards me<br />We would push and shove the book on our sides and thus would start a game;<br />And giggle and talk in whispers and pens till teacher said 'ssshhhhh'<br />Then after the lunch break, we would get rid of the maroon sweaters<br />Knot these on the shoulder or the waist<br />Or simply dump them on the bench and gossip about at length...<br /><br />Gone are those early mornings of rush that I try to get hold of even now<br />Those were different winters, this is a different cold...Gauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-72578815060205969252008-12-06T00:42:00.000-08:002009-03-08T23:27:27.452-07:00Tired words<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/STo7z1_KbdI/AAAAAAAAAa8/qeIuuZ6aCE8/s1600-h/housewife.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 100px; height: 88px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/STo7z1_KbdI/AAAAAAAAAa8/qeIuuZ6aCE8/s200/housewife.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276595675269328338" /></a><br />Tired words, used and re-used;<br />It's a task to churn up something new<br />If 'new' at all exists... :)Gauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-56494211613839972782008-11-26T21:36:00.000-08:002008-11-26T23:57:23.740-08:00Death<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/SS5SphU86NI/AAAAAAAAAak/sI4oBPxT7YI/s1600-h/side+strip1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 110px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/SS5SphU86NI/AAAAAAAAAak/sI4oBPxT7YI/s200/side+strip1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273243086971791570" border="0" /></a>Death, you can't touch me<br />Till you kill me. Or my loved ones.<br />But then, you have a sinister smell and sound<br />That crosses the sea<br />From that vibrant city nestling the Arabian<br />to this soulful place lining the Hooghly<br />You have put us all on our toes,<br />Nerves tense, tension aimless<br />Sorrow, brooding, unanswerable questions.<br />Why do you need to kill<br />to teach a lesson?<br />Death, why don't you be good once in a while.<br />Spare. Be gentle. Let us live as we die.<br />Give us time to say Goodbye...Gauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-55758577797568840582008-11-20T23:55:00.000-08:002008-11-21T00:37:16.637-08:00Me?Poet, you mean creature<br />You pick up life's odds<br />and mask those under a coating of heavy words,<br />Words that are glossy, Words that are hollow<br />Words made big with intellectual humbug...<br /><br />Poet, you mean creature<br />You make no difference to my miseries, my sorrows.<br />You lap up my misfortunes<br />And make money out of my death and grime.<br />Poet, you mean creature,<br />Leave my privacy to me...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/SSZzFZDEwjI/AAAAAAAAAaU/UpQExelLxvY/s1600-h/man.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 238px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/SSZzFZDEwjI/AAAAAAAAAaU/UpQExelLxvY/s400/man.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271026950344065586" /></a>Gauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-44673574726182692242008-10-17T14:38:00.000-07:002008-10-18T22:03:21.479-07:00NibblingIt slowly eats away,<br />bits of my intestine, heart and veins<br />but most of it, my brain...<br /><br />Anger, which part of me<br />did you nibble today? <br /><br />--GauriGauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-62289308864442503602008-09-26T12:37:00.000-07:002008-09-26T13:33:57.557-07:00Just go away<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/SN1HK7QHGNI/AAAAAAAAATo/tcqUBQq_lLo/s1600-h/Siddi+Saiyyad+ni+jali.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/SN1HK7QHGNI/AAAAAAAAATo/tcqUBQq_lLo/s200/Siddi+Saiyyad+ni+jali.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250430993613396178" /></a><br />It's uncomfortable<br />fiddling with the past. And yet it's<br />nothing I can control.<br /><br />If only memories<br />could die as completely as human bodies;<br />Rot or burn away.<br /><br />-GGGauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-7879276794814276522008-09-03T21:19:00.000-07:002008-09-03T21:30:32.323-07:00<span style="font-style:italic;">Birthdays are happy days<br />You grow up, or think you have.<br />Reason enough to enjoy...</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/SL9kVff8DjI/AAAAAAAAATI/x5Mnyb-WDoI/s1600-h/Pastel+flowers.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/SL9kVff8DjI/AAAAAAAAATI/x5Mnyb-WDoI/s400/Pastel+flowers.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242018811678035506" /></a>Gauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-12762851987886752342008-08-28T06:33:00.000-07:002008-08-28T09:01:54.942-07:00Mr. Crow and Ms. Dove<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/SLbJt9RdYwI/AAAAAAAAASQ/DK7Ow1POnsU/s1600-h/Crow+and+Dove.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/SLbJt9RdYwI/AAAAAAAAASQ/DK7Ow1POnsU/s200/Crow+and+Dove.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239597007871238914" /></a><br />It happened a long time ago<br />When a crow met a dove.<br />She used to coo, he crowed,<br />Soon they fell in love...<br /><br />Mr. Crow took her out to lunch<br />And ordered the best of egg-crunch<br />Lady Dove gasped in disbelief<br />On seeing the death of prospective chicks...<br /><br />She would have nearly fainted<br />Had not Mr. Crow fluttered in frenzy,<br />Made her sip some cool raspberry;<br />And call for a plate of millet cupcakes.<br /><br />With a gulp of the cool drink<br />Lady Dove accepted their odd takes<br />And while she nibbled on the cupcakes<br />Mr. Crow ordered baked shrimp...<br /><br />It happened a long time ago<br />That a crow met a dove<br />She cooed, He used to crow;<br />They never got out of love.<br /><br />-GGGauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-60949824143508567402008-08-28T06:00:00.000-07:002008-08-28T06:15:33.697-07:00From nowhereFrom nowhere came a smell<br />That I had smelt a long time back. <br />From nowhere came a memory<br />That I didn't suspect still existed...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/SLakqCJNogI/AAAAAAAAASI/yIKVXRW74ic/s1600-h/flower+for+blog.jpg"><img style="float:center; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kwXHd-w3Eus/SLakqCJNogI/AAAAAAAAASI/yIKVXRW74ic/s200/flower+for+blog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239556258529124866" /></a>Gauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-49340337528598521512008-08-09T06:44:00.000-07:002008-08-09T13:09:26.952-07:00Why do I still need you?How unfair to give one blow after the other<br />to people who so believe in you.<br />You are skewed in your mercies and virtues<br />You are an unfair, unrepentant God.<br />Why do I still need you?Gauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-40781141477800751962008-07-29T08:18:00.000-07:002008-08-04T01:28:06.404-07:00A windy eveningDust, debris, papers, leaves<br />As if uncertain where to land, <br />came rain in bits and pieces.<br />A moment of destiny of forced togetherness<br />stranded strangers under a lonely tree;<br />A cup of tea that got cold a bit too soon;<br />A cup of wait, rather.<br />I still remember that <a href="http://gaurigharpure.blogspot.com/2008/07/windy-evening_29.html" target="_blank">windy evening</a>...<br /><br />-GG<br /><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />digg_url = 'DIGG_PERMALINK_URL';<br /></script><br /><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script>Gauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6174663099937663155.post-69549803519971102982008-07-24T10:49:00.000-07:002008-08-04T01:28:27.823-07:00WordsThe words that we<br />catch and throw,<br />wait for and deliver-<br />Do these words make you smile<br />Or do they make you frown?<br />Do you believe they are meant for you<br />Or assume they are for someone else?<br />These words that we catch and throw,<br />Do you know where they go?<br /><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />digg_url = 'DIGG_PERMALINK_URL';<br /></script><br /><script src="http://digg.com/tools/diggthis.js" type="text/javascript"></script>Gauri Gharpurehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09887888023298949657noreply@blogger.com4