Saturday, September 5, 2015

Songs

Starring: Amitabh Bachchan, Shashi Kapoor, Jaya Bachchan, Rekha & Sanjeev Kumar
Lyrics By: Javed, Rajendra Krishan, Nida Fazli, Hassan Kamal, Dr. Harivansh Rai Bachchan
Music By: Shiv-Hari
Produced & Directed By: Yash Chopra

Amit (Amitabh Bachchan) a poet decides to bury his past life along with his love for Chandni (Rekha) when he meets Shobha (Jaya Bachchan). Shobhas life has come to a standstill after her fiancnd Amits brother Shekhar (Shashi Kapoor) dies in a plane crash.

Amit had only come to mourn the death of his brother with Shobha but ends up sacrificing his own love and life in an attempt to give shobha a new lease of life. When fate brings Amit and Chandni face to face again, both are married to different people but neither can ignore their feelings for each other.

Silsila is a story, thwarted by societys demands, which reappear as adultery but can it survive in the face of society?

songs

Starring: Amitabh Bachchan, Shashi Kapoor, Jaya Bachchan, Rekha & Sanjeev Kumar
Lyrics By: Javed, Rajendra Krishan, Nida Fazli, Hassan Kamal, Dr. Harivansh Rai Bachchan
Music By: Shiv-Hari
Produced & Directed By: Yash Chopra

Amit (Amitabh Bachchan) a poet decides to bury his past life along with his love for Chandni (Rekha) when he meets Shobha (Jaya Bachchan). Shobhas life has come to a standstill after her fiancnd Amits brother Shekhar (Shashi Kapoor) dies in a plane crash.

Amit had only come to mourn the death of his brother with Shobha but ends up sacrificing his own love and life in an attempt to give shobha a new lease of life. When fate brings Amit and Chandni face to face again, both are married to different people but neither can ignore their feelings for each other.

Silsila is a story, thwarted by societys demands, which reappear as adultery but can it survive in the face of society?

Time trumps money

Time trumps money

|#shyamis
With back to school on many parents’ minds, a PTA note written by a mom of three from Texas has gone viral. In the note to school families, she bucks the traditional fundraisers for cash. She asks parents to check off how much money they’ll give for the year instead of time, including:
I don’t want to bake, so here is the $15 I would have spent on those cupcakes.
I don’t want to walk, swim or run in anything that has the word “thon” in it so here is $50.
I don’t want to attend any fancy balls, so here is the $75 I would have spent on a new outfit.
I am making this (blank amount) donation to express my appreciation for having nothing to buy, sell or do except fill out this form.
One columnist said the note “sums up what every parent everywhere is thinking.” I agree selling wrapping paper or magazines for school is annoying, but what about the opportunities we have to socialize and build community? My kids would clamor to bake cupcakes and wouldn’t care how Pinterest-perfect they look. Our school’s Dolphin Dash/ jog-a-thon is a wonderful event we look forward to every year. Even if some of my kids have skipped years running, they enjoy the bounce houses and watching the races. I enjoy our school’s annual adult dinner and auction
All three of those examples are opportunities to interact with others — much better than writing a check and staying home. If anything, it’s the people who organize such things who may want to write such a letter of protest, for they are the true heroes. For those of us who show up, have fun and build memories? What’s so bad about that?
I call “bah, humbug!” on that PTA letter and see it as one of the problems with society today. Many want to check the box and be done. As kids get older, they especially fall victim to this by well-meaning parents.
They may look like adults on the outside, but older kids need our presence very much. Parents often go back to work when children begin middle school or they increase their hours at work because more expenses loom and childcare is no longer an issue. Older kids may be able to keep the house from burning down, but they often experience something that isn’t as obvious — a void that can come with the loss of a parent’s time.
A generation ago we talked about lonely kids turning to gangs for acceptance. Now kids turn to an online world where they are mere consumers, not our cherished sons and daughters. Teenagers may say they want the latest fashion trend or device, but I bet they’d prefer something as simple as a parent in the room cooking dinner or reading a book while they do homework. It doesn’t have to be intense time together; our presence will do.
When I started junior high my mom suddenly stopped getting up with me in the morning and I missed that, though I didn’t have the language to express myself then. Also, for many parents with teenage children it’s a common time to divorce, as mine did. It’s as though parents think their kids are grown and don’t need them anymore.
It’s no wonder on people’s death beds the most common response to what they would do differently revolves around the people they wish they could spend more time with and not how many things or how much money they wished they’d had.
Julie Samrick is an El Dorado Hills mother of four children and a Village Life staff writer.
Julie Samrick | September 5, 2015 at 5:29 pm | Tags: A5 | Categories: Commentary | URL:http://wp.me/p1uUsg-dwR
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CDT day 120

CDT day 120

 |#shyamis

In the morning I walk back to safeway to resupply, marveling at the warm empty streets of Salida, the closed-up shops with their windows reflecting the early light. There are no breakfast places nearby so I buy gluten-free toaster waffles in addition to all the usual- salami, mayo, chips, bars- and eat my leftover spaghetti on the waffles back at the hostel. It's awesome. Then I sit in one of the overstuffed chairs in the comfy hostel living room and work on my blog while a couple on a bike tour pack and repack their panniers. The couple is young, cute hipsters with tattoos. They're biking from West Virginia to Oregon- although they don't know where they want to live or what they want to do when they get there.
Just before noon the small Cambodian restaurant tucked into a side street finally opens, yay! (it was closed yesterday), and I order a big bowl of chicken coconut soup. It's begun to rain a little and I eat my soup at a table facing the window, watching the rain. The rain lets up right when I'm ready to hike out.
"Hey hikertrash!" I'm walking towards the highway where I'll hitch back to Monarch Pass when I hear the familiar call. I turn to see a man with wild blond hair beckoning me over to his vehicle. His name is D-Bone, and he's a long-distance hiker who lives here in town. He offers me a ride back to the pass. I can't believe my luck! It would've been a hard hitch otherwise. I put my pack in the back seat, next to a sleeping toddler in a carseat.
"Cute kid," I say.
"He's conked," says D-Bone. D-Bone is originally from Alabama, but he's lived in Colorado for eleven years. As we drive to the pass D-Bone talks to me about Salida- "All these yuppies with ten thousand dollar mountain bikes, but I'm only mad because I want one too" Ski towns- "Flat-brims smoking dubs, call em skittles because everything they wear is neon" Accidental thru-hiking- "The second time I hiked the AT I only had five hundred dollars, ate out of hiker boxes and drank a lot of olive oil, my sister didn't recognize me when I was done." He hands me a handful of photos from the center console- tiny climbers clinging to a nearly smooth wall of rock. "That's me climbing El Cap. Took us a day and a half." By the time we reach Monarch Pass I feel as though I've made a friend.
"I don't want to stop talking," says D-Bone, as we say goodbye. Me either, I think. "It's my day off," he says, as he gets back into the car. The kid is awake now, gazing out the window. "I think I'll go fishing." I wave as the car pulls away.
It's 2:30, and I only plan on hiking 11 miles today, which will get me to the last water before a long dry stretch. The trail for the next two days is gentle, relatively- it meanders along the ridge at around eleven thousand feet, no massive climbs. Today it's cloudy and cool and the tread is still wonderful, on account of the Colorado Trail, and I listen to podcasts as I walk and look out at all the layers of mountains in the distance, watch a storm do its thing on the horizon. I think about life after the trail, things I want to write about that aren't hiking, people I wish I could be talking to/hanging out with right now, and where in the world I would go/what adventures I would try and have if money were no object.
There's a small undeveloped campground and a dirt road at the stream where I'd planned to camp, so I have the luxury of a pit toilet and a perfectly flat spot in which to pitch my tarp. I heat up water for instant lentils and eat dinner in my sleeping bag while looking at my maps, thinking of how little I have left of this trail. I can't even begin to process this summer, much less imagine that the trail is actually going to end. Oh well. One day at a time.
Photos on instagram
carrot quinn | September 5, 2015 at 6:43 AM | Categories: Uncategorized | URL:http://wp.me/pmqLt-1l3
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Coconut soup, a new friend and some gentle trail

Coconut soup, a new friend and some gentle trail |#shyamis
September 1
Mileage: 11
2,313 miles hiked
In the morning I walk back to safeway to resupply, marveling at the warm empty streets of Salida, the closed-up shops with their windows reflecting the early light. There are no breakfast places nearby so I buy gluten-free toaster waffles in addition to all the usual- salami, mayo, chips, bars- and eat my leftover spaghetti on the waffles back at the hostel. It's awesome. Then I sit in one of the overstuffed chairs in the comfy hostel living room and work on my blog while a couple on a bike tour pack and repack their panniers. The couple is young, cute hipsters with tattoos. They're biking from West Virginia to Oregon- although they don't know where they want to live or what they want to do when they get there.
Just before noon the small Cambodian restaurant tucked into a side street finally opens, yay! (it was closed yesterday), and I order a big bowl of chicken coconut soup. It's begun to rain a little and I eat my soup at a table facing the window, watching the rain. The rain lets up right when I'm ready to hike out.
"Hey hikertrash!" I'm walking towards the highway where I'll hitch back to Monarch Pass when I hear the familiar call. I turn to see a man with wild blond hair beckoning me over to his vehicle. His name is D-Bone, and he's a long-distance hiker who lives here in town. He offers me a ride back to the pass. I can't believe my luck! It would've been a hard hitch otherwise. I put my pack in the back seat, next to a sleeping toddler in a carseat.
"Cute kid," I say.
"He's conked," says D-Bone. D-Bone is originally from Alabama, but he's lived in Colorado for eleven years. As we drive to the pass D-Bone talks to me about Salida- "All these yuppies with ten thousand dollar mountain bikes, but I'm only mad because I want one too" Ski towns- "Flat-brims smoking dubs, call em skittles because everything they wear is neon" Accidental thru-hiking- "The second time I hiked the AT I only had five hundred dollars, ate out of hiker boxes and drank a lot of olive oil, my sister didn't recognize me when I was done." He hands me a handful of photos from the center console- tiny climbers clinging to a nearly smooth wall of rock. "That's me climbing El Cap. Took us a day and a half." By the time we reach Monarch Pass I feel as though I've made a friend.
"I don't want to stop talking," says D-Bone, as we say goodbye. Me either, I think. "It's my day off," he says, as he gets back into the car. The kid is awake now, gazing out the window. "I think I'll go fishing." I wave as the car pulls away.
It's 2:30, and I only plan on hiking 11 miles today, which will get me to the last water before a long dry stretch. The trail for the next two days is gentle, relatively- it meanders along the ridge at around eleven thousand feet, no massive climbs. Today it's cloudy and cool and the tread is still wonderful, on account of the Colorado Trail, and I listen to podcasts as I walk and look out at all the layers of mountains in the distance, watch a storm do its thing on the horizon. I think about life after the trail, things I want to write about that aren't hiking, people I wish I could be talking to/hanging out with right now, and where in the world I would go/what adventures I would try and have if money were no object.
There's a small undeveloped campground and a dirt road at the stream where I'd planned to camp, so I have the luxury of a pit toilet and a perfectly flat spot in which to pitch my tarp. I heat up water for instant lentils and eat dinner in my sleeping bag while looking at my maps, thinking of how little I have left of this trail. I can't even begin to process this summer, much less imagine that the trail is actually going to end. Oh well. One day at a time.
Photos on instagram
carrot quinn | September 5, 2015 at 6:43 AM | Categories: Uncategorized | URL:http://wp.me/pmqLt-1l5