Here is text from an e-mail that I received and thought you should read it…

Monica married Hitesh this day. At the end of the wedding party, Monica's mother gave her a newly opened bank saving passbook. With Rs.1000 deposit amount.

Mother: 'Monica, take this passbook. Keep it as a record of your marriage life. When there's something happy and memorable happened in your new life, put some money in. Write down what it's about next to the line. The more memorable the event is, the more money you can put in. I've done the first one for you today. Do the others with Hitesh.When you look back after years, you can know how much happiness you've had.' Monica shared this with Hitesh when getting home. They both thought it was a great idea and were anxious to know when the second deposit can be made.

This was what they did after certain time:
- 7 Feb: Rs.100, first birthday celebration for Hitesh after marriage
- 1 Mar: Rs.300, salary raise for Monica
- 20 Mar: Rs.200, vacation trip to Bali
- 15 Apr: Rs.2000, Monica got pregnant
- 1 Jun: Rs.1000, Hitesh got promoted
... And so on...

However, after years, they started fighting and arguing for trivial things. They didn't talk much. They regretted that they had married the most nasty people in the world.... no more love...Kind of typical nowadays, huh? One day Monica talked to her Mother: 'Mom, we can't stand it anymore. We agree to divorce. I can't imagine how I decided to marry this guy!!!' Mother: 'Sure, girl, that's no big deal. Just do whatever you want if you really can't stand it. But before that, do one thing first. Remember the saving passbook I gave you on your wedding day? Take out all money and spend it first. You shouldn't keep any record of such a poor marriage.'

Monica thought it was true. So she went to the bank, waiting at the queue and planning to cancel the account. While she was waiting, she took a look at the passbook record. She looked, and looked, and looked. Then the memory of all the previous joy and happiness just came up her mind. Her eyes were then filled with tears. She left and went home.

When she was home, she handed the passbook to Hitesh, asked him to spend the money before getting divorce. The next day, Hitesh gave the passbook back to Monica. She found a new deposit of Rs.5000. And a line next to the record: 'This is the day I notice how much I've loved you thru out all these years. How much happiness you've brought me.'

They hugged and cried, putting the passbook back to the safe. Do you know how much money they had saved when they retired? I did not ask. I believe the money did not matter any more after they had gone thru all the good years in their life.

Saddi dilli!!

My day at work started by reading a friend’s blog. And I was so surprised to see how much I can relate to it. She wrote it in a very nice way. So I blame this feeling of nostalgia on her!! I was writing a comment on her blog, and I figured that I have written such a long one that may be I should include it here in my blog. To read Payal’s blog click here.

I totally agree with what I read. Couldn’t have agreed more. Just after we leave the place where we grew up, we start looking at it in a different light. When i was in Delhi, I used to crib about the crowd and rush. And how everything is so noisy and busy. But now after moving to US, when I got a chance to stay in smaller cities, I realized… I freaking need to move back to a big city. The rush, noise, business is a part of my life. It flows in my body like blood (exaggeration). Back then; places like chandni chawk or our local bazar were way too low as per standards of my friends and me… I used to make sure I am not spotted there by anyone I know. I used to hate going to the local market to get household stuff… things that I thought my mom loved to do… shopping for spices, brooms and mops, getting her duppattas dyed, buying vegetables… Gosh! Ask me how much I used to hate it.

I was talking to my sister last night and she is in the same phase. Exactly same. She hates it all as well. I didn’t know what to tell her. How to make her feel better about the whole situation? And what timing… I read this blog today. I am going to make her read it too.

See how attached we get to the things we detest at one point of time. Just because it’s there. And now since I have been away for long. When I visit, I just love everything about it.. It's so different and distinctive! The crowd is not a bunch of random people anymore; it’s more like a set of individuals with unique traits and interesting characteristics... the gullies, the shops, the architecture! It’s all so charming and enticing now… Now I know the worth of the title I was carrying around back in college ‘ms. dilli’ (of course it was just for fun, but now I love it) Why? I don’t know; and would never know.

All I know is that here when I talk about Delhi, I speak with pride and make it a point that world knows that there’s nothing like… SADDI DILLI ;)

I love coffee; so much so that I can’t live through a single day peacefully without it. My coffee drinking habit has been addressed in various ways… including mental disorder, addiction, rehab required, coffee-holism, drug of choice and what not. But I look at it in a different way. For me, it’s a cup of bliss! And yes it is (at least for me). I think, with other perks and allowances, my future employer should provide me with a coffee machine on my desk as well.

I know coffee is not poison, it won’t kill me. Even if I have 3 cups a day, every day… until I die! But the discomfort is about the habit! My day doesn’t start without a cup of black coffee. I need a cup to wake me up, and the next one to gimme a kick to start working, and the third one to keep me going after lunch. I try to skip the fourth one mostly. But if I get home and I am too tired and don’t think will make it to 10 o’clock, I have to have one more. Well yeah, I know it’s a lot. At least that’s what people say. But there is nothing much I can do about it.

Now the real problem comes when I don’t get my required supply of daily caffeine. Obviously I feel sick that entire day. And grumpy. And irritable. And don’t forget the constant headache. That's the time when no one on this earth should mess with me. Either he will have a hard time tolerating me, or it will be a torture for myself. And imagine If I am visiting someone, and the person doesn’t drink coffee. I am dead then! Right then. And I head straight out to look for coffee. Well not really… but it’s hard. So hard. So very hard to survive.

Anyways, it’s time for my coffee… I will conclude this later :)